Surprising LDS Echoes and Overtones:
Old Time Music in Hi Tech Austin
by Ron Simpson
We’re having an early dinner at Guero’s in Austin and Kim is talking about Don Walser, one of the reigning kings of Texas swing.
“The great thing about Walser,” he continues, “is he’s this authentic, old-school Texas cowboy singer/songwriter/yodeler, and one of the very few who’s been lucky enough-while he’s still alive-to have found a young, contemporary audience that totally appreciates him for what he is.”
And then all of a sudden our son Kim holds out his hands for quiet, and sure enough, we can barely hear the radio on the PA system over the noise in the place. The radio is tuned to NPR, “All Things Considered.” Kim mouths the words, “Richard Dutcher” and sure enough, reporter Howard Berkes, presenting a piece on the surprising rise in popularity of Mormon cinema, is in the middle of interviewing Richard Dutcher, talking about the critical acclaim yet weaker-than-expected box office of “Brigham City.” Provo movies on the radio in Austin? Unbelievable.
Soon the out-of-synch moment is gone, and we’re back into our black beans and salsa verde and talking again about Don Walser. His song, “I’m a Rollin’ Stone from Texas,” has a featured spot in the heartwarming film, Secondhand Lions, and this is only one of several recent national triumphs in the career of the deserving and aging Austin cowboy.
Workin’ on the railroad, sleepin’ on the ground,
Eatin’ Saltine crackers, ten cents a pound.
Traditional cowboy singers like Don Walser are custodians of a Spartan old-west ethic and value system long gone yet much revered in present-day Austin, where a decidedly corporate, big- bucks image has taken over. But on Friday night Austin goes into collective denial and heads back into its beloved past, lining up for dinner at Hill’s Caf or Threadgill’s-or better yet, for Texas barbecue and western swing dancing at The Broken Spoke.
I’m a Texas top hand, and I’m the number-one man
When it comes to the matters of an old cowhand.
I can ride ’em, I can break ’em and on Friday I’ll be makin’
My way into town to dance to some old cowboy band.
“Don was always a regular at the best Austin spots like Threadgill’s or Jovita’s,” continues Kim Simpson. So every weekend he’d be at one of those top places. They totally loved him at The Broken Spoke.”
“And you won’t believe this,” Kim continues, “But Don Walser has ties to the Mormon Church. You know, he’s not in very good health right now. His daughter and granddaughter are sort of his main care-givers, and I go to church with them in South Austin-Parkwood Ward.” A surprise indeed, and we get up to leave Guero’s, hoping Don Walser will recover and find a second wind.
I’m a Texas top hand and I’ll bet my bottom dollar, Ma’am,
I’ll wind up in the money at this year’s rodeo.
Well, winding up in the money isn’t exactly like it used to be. Showtime in Austin is high tech stuff. Like Dell Computers. We are reminded by our grandson Quinn that the Winter Festival is on at his pre-school Saturday morning. We attend, and meet Carol, the director of the University of Texas pre-school. She holds a BYU master’s degree. We compliment her for the new Playscape equipment in the yard. “Yes,” she smiles. “Michael and Susan Dell [Dell Computers] had a child here for awhile, and they gave us a million dollars which funded our Playscape, among other things. It’s made a huge difference.”
There’s nothin’ quite like the smell of fresh ploughed ground
On the family farm with your kids all around.
The good lord gave this country boy a place to run and play
And work this ol’ John Deere every day.
So as the high-tech stakes grow ever higher, maybe it’s no wonder that the high-touch, high-smell, family-values life of the old-west Texas plains is so revered today in the music of singers like Don Walser. Seems like Austin today is all about style, attitude. While we’re chasin’ our millions, let’s be loose, be cool. “Keep Austin Weird,” says the local bumper sticker, co-sponsored by the record store where Don Walser is featured.
Another Great Story
There’s another great story in the Austin tapestry of today that weaves in threads of music, Mormons, BYU, Dell Computers and Austin, which rhymes with Boston, as you’ll see. It’s the story of Kevin Rollins, who grew up in Utah.
I ain’t got a cent in these old worn out jeans
Gotta stop eatin’ steak and go back to beans
Kevin and his brother Craig were part of a band from Orem called The Gents. Unbelievably, The Gents won the national battle of the bands in 1968 when Kevin was just 14 years old. In those days one of my companies was The Sound Column Agency. We loved The Gents and admired the way Kevin Rollins got a very usable sound with just a cheap, student-line guitar. (Very much a Texas thing to do.)
After a mission and graduation from BYU, Rollins paid some dues, working for a time as a business consultant in Boston, where his reputation grew and an assignment eventually made him a consultant to Dell Computers. Dell was impressed, and brought him aboard.
Today, as Clyde Weeks writes in the weekly Orem-Geneva Times, “Rollins is president and chief operating officer of Dell Computers. He is a polished management professional, who doubles as a fun-loving fiddle player, and sings wisecracking lyrics about rival companies at [Dell Computer] gatherings in Round Rock, Texas.” (Round Rock is a North Austin Suburb.)
I’ll pick up a ten spot in Houston I know
Ridin’ a bronc in the big rodeo
Kevin Rollins has been good for Texas. He is credited with steering Dell through the recent hi-tech pullback and landing it back on its feet. And so Kevin Rollins, with his Boston business savvy and his easy Texas style and natural affinity for Austin’s music tradition, has ridden the hi-tech bull for prize money. He and his wife Debra were credited in 1999 with giving the multi-million-dollar centerpiece gift to create The Kevin and Debra Rollins Theater in the Long Center, a several-venue arts complex in the Austin suburb where they live. Mighty fine ridin’, Cowboy.
The sky is crying
It’s raining and uncharacteristically cold during our few days in Austin. I thump on some upright basses for sale, find some unfindable prize vinyl in the used record shops, and think about another Austin legend, the late blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughn, who died young in a tragic helicopter wreck. We walk along the river toward the statue of Stevie Ray in his raincoat and flat leather hat and remark what a fitting day it is to see it: just a bunch of crows and gackles, one rainy-day jogger, and us. We remember Stevie Ray singing, “The sky is crying…”
Write one for your mom…
What Will It Take?
Heading for the airport to fly home, I’m still amazed that I’ve heard NPR talking about Mormon movies in Austin of all places, and I’m wondering what will it take to create a generation-a catalog-of great Mormon movies.
Just a couple of months before I flew to Hollywood to attend the Billboard Film Music Conference. With Clint Eastwood as the keynote speaker, and a who’s who list of film-composer presenters, the heartwarming surprise favorite of that jaded audience turned out to be Austin’s Robert Rodriquez, creator of the Spy Kids movies. A filmmaker with that old-west cowboy ethic, Rodriquez is a young director known for creating his own music as he builds a film.
Wearing his Austin uniform, including a wrinkled denim shirt, well-worn boots and a years-old cowboy hat, Rodriquez presented examples of his film and film music work and then closed by urging the aspiring film composers in the room to write what they know. “Go home and start tonight,” he said. “Write a theme for you, for your father, one for your mother, themes for each of your kids, for your dog.
“My mom,” he continued, and then unexpectedly, Rodriguez choked up. “My mom,” he started again, softly, “shops at supermarkets. She raised ten kids. She loves Gershwin. MGM golden age musicals. Sure, I could call Danny [Elfman] or ten other guys and say write something for this character,” he went on. “But I’m the one who knows this person. I’m the one who can nail it.”
Who will be the Robert Rodriguez of Mormon film?
I’m a rolling stone from Texas
Rolling stone from the plains
I’m a rolling stone from Texas, boys
I long to be back there again
The late fiddler Kenner Kartchner worked the Arizona frontier. Late in life, after bluegrass and western fiddling again had started to become hip, he placed in the top ten several different years in the Weiser, Idaho fiddling contest. He came from Mormon pioneer lines and would be an extended-family cousin of mine. He told how itinerant Texas cowhands would drift across the borders into New Mexico or as far west as Arizona, bringing with them the latest Texas tunes and the latest dance styles, shared around campfires or at impromptu country dances. “That’s how I would keep up to date,” he’d say, acknowledging the Texas trademark in a lot of the music he played.
That was just after the turn of the last century. Can’t see as its much different today.
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“All Things Considered,” NPR, January 15, 2004, Melissa Block, Michele Norris co-hosts
Don Walser lyrics excerpted from “Dare to Dream: The Best of Don Walser”
Kim Simpson, a PhD candidate in American Studies at the University of Texas, Austin, is a specialist in contemporary music history, including the Austin music scene
Kenner Kartchner material from Frontier Fiddler: The Life of a Northern Arizona Pioneer, by Larry Shumway (1990: University of Arizona Press) and interviews with the author
Clyde Weeks’ quote on Kevin Rollins from historical cover story, “Orem band The Gents Win National Battle of the Bands, Part I” Orem-Geneva Times, 10-2-03 cover story.
2004 Meridian Magazine. All Rights Reserved.
