A STORY WORTH TELLING
“Dunn’s Law: Careful planning is no substitute for dumb luck.”
— Arthur Bloch
So there I was, back on the road listening to the ball game and smiling at the luck of meeting one of the last living members of the Original Texas Playboys band who had played with music legend Bob Wills.
Making things even better, I had also scored a record to remember the day.
Records.
I have lots of them –– the vinyl kind making a comeback after being kicked to the side of the audio road a few years ago.
Many audiophiles claim vinyl records produce a richer, broader sound than other media.
Others laud the large, often artistic covers of long-playing albums. To me, it’s the story. What song made us want the record? What’s the memory that’s made us cling to the album for decades? Was it the time in our life? Someone we remember?
Friend Leroy Newman exemplified it well after hearing “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night at a recent concert. “That was the No. 1 song when I graduated from high school in May of 1971,” he said.
Digging into my record collection last week, I stopped at a Bob Wills album when the cover reminded me of a fall drive through northwest Arkansas one Saturday afternoon during the early 1980s.
American musician, songwriter and bandleader James Robert “Bob” Wills (1905 –1975) is considered by music authorities as the founder of Western swing. He formed the Texas Playboys in 1934, hiring many memorable musicians, not the least of whom was steel guitar player Leon McAuliffe.
Wills buffs will recall the musician’s “ah-ha” calls and “Take it away, Leon,” leading McAuliffe into a steel-guitar solo.
After years of success, Wills’ health forced him to disband the Playboys in the mid-1960s. He continued to perform solo, dreaming they would someday play together again. And they did in 1973 before Wills died two years later.
The Country Music Hall of Fame inducted Wills in 1968, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1999 and the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame in 2000.
The small town of Turkey lays claim to the title of “The Home of Bob Wills” with a museum and a Bob Wills Day the last weekend in April.
On my afternoon drive through Arkansas some 40 years ago, I was listening to a football game on the radio. The Southwest Conference was still a thing, and Arkansas was defeating Southern Methodist University. An ad caught my attention: “Only at KOMA studios can you get this recording of the Original Texas Playboys with the history of ‘Faded Love’ by Leon McAuliffe.”
“Sure would be nice if we were close to that radio station,” I thought. Who would have guessed? Minutes later, I rounded a curve between Bentonville and Rogers, and lo and behold, there it sat: KOMA studios.
Small radio stations have never been known for having a large staff.
The only person visible entering the front door was the deejay, and he was awaiting the next network commercial break during the game.
Before he could leave the control board to see why I had wandered in, someone else from another part of the building saw me. After telling this guy I was interested in the advertised Bob Wills albums, he raised a finger to point and responded, “Follow me.”
In a back office, boxes of the records sat beside a desk where another man appeared busy navigating through a stack of paperwork.
“This is the ‘Faded Love’ album,” the first man said, handing me a copy for inspection.
“And we still have a few of the ‘San Antonio Rose’ albums left.”
Without hesitation, I obligated myself to one of each.
As I was fumbling for my wallet, the first man asked, “And your name?” “Leon Aldridge,” I replied.
“Leon Aldridge,” he repeated, turning toward the man at the desk, “meet Leon McAuliffe of the Original Texas Playboys.”
Completely forgetting the albums, my wallet and the balancing act as they all fell to the desk, I extended my right arm. We shook hands, exchanged hellos, conversed about country music and even talked about who we wanted to win the football game on the radio.
The country music legend autographed the records as we talked.
I thanked everyone, including a nod to the busy deejay on the way out, completing the completely unplanned and unexpected happening that had just occurred.
I also recalled an old saying, something about, “No amount of planning can ever replace dumb luck.”
— Contact Aldridge at [email protected]. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge. com
