* * *
As I have said, my dad was a real estate man and a homebuilder. When I was a little boy in the early sixties, he took me out on Saturday mornings to visit his job sites. The first stop was always the Gridiron Coffee Shop on Highway 51, just a short distance from our house. It was also just a little ways down from Graceland. They renamed 51 “Elvis Presley Boulevard” years later.
The Gridiron was the old man’s favorite hangout. He knew the cook and all the waitresses on a first name basis. The smell of greasy bacon, sausage, and eggs was spectacular. Whitehaven was fairly sparse in those days. A lot of it was still made up of rural homesteads and farmland pastures. The little strip where the Gridiron sat also housed a Rexall drugstore that still had a soda bar.
This particular Saturday morning was clear, blue, and warm. After Dad finished drinking his coffee and flirting with the waitresses a little, and after I had finished my eggs, he paid the bill. He made a couple of wise cracks to the waitress, which she immediately threw right back at him. We left the Gridiron and got into Dad’s old Chevy pickup truck and pulled out onto Highway 51 headed south toward Mississippi. Just about as quick as you can imagine anything happening in Old Dixie, a man came running out from the Rexall next to the Gridiron and up onto the highway screaming like a banshee, “Elvis is in there! Elvis is in the Rexall!”
I noticed a sharp looking motorcycle parked by the front door. When that man went to screaming, cars all over the highway just stopped in their tracks. It was like one of those 1950s alien movies when a spaceship shoots everyone with a laser beam that makes all the machines quit working and all the power go out. People just stopped in their tracks and got out of their cars, wherever they were, and proceeded to make haste to the Rexall.
About that time, I noticed a fella with blue-black hair running up from around the back of the building as fast as he could with his legs and elbows flinging into the wind like a crazy man. He ran onto the highway going north toward Graceland. I knew it was Elvis. I’m not sure I ever saw anyone move his legs and elbows as fast as he did that day. As he hightailed it, the crowd of about thirty people saw him make his run and took off after him like a hound dog after a rabbit. Elvis ran all the way back to the gates of Graceland that morning with those folks chasing him. It was just like in the movies.
* * *
As I looked at powder-blue Elvis, all those years later, pumping gas, I tipped my head, just like they do in the Western movies. Elvis tipped his head right back at me. It was like he was saying, “Thanks, kid, for not busting my cover with all these people around.” I had a flashback to Young Elvis, before he was all big and puffy, running for his life from behind the Rexall on a Saturday morning. It was a truly peculiar comparison of personas.
Elvis Presley died two weeks later from a drug overdose. That was a sad day—especially for us Memphians and this kid who grew up in Whitehaven.
FOURTEEN
All the Losers Win
Working at Ardent was a fantastic experience. We finished the album right before Christmas of 1977. It was released a few weeks later in January of 1978. Only two songs from our initial demos, “Emmanuel” and “Addey,” made the record. “Addey” was the song that really turned the heads at Lamb and Lion. Dana wrote that one about a girl we met who was working the streets. It was always interesting to me the song that excited the Christian industry most was about a hooker.
Stephen Lawhead, who by then signed on to be DeGarmo and Key’s manager, worked with Rick Miller, an aspiring booking agent friend of ours in Memphis, to book us as the opening act for Larry Norman on a three-city concert tour. The first night of the mini tour was in our hometown. Larry was a hero to Dana and me and to be on stage with him was a big moment for us. All our friends and families came out that night to give us a warm send off. It kind of doubled as an album release party.
We purchased an old, beat-up, Chevy box van for the tour. Dana’s dad and my dad both had to co-sign the loan for us to get it. When we loaded that old van down with our equipment it looked like a toad frog about to jump. The rear end was almost on the ground and it appeared like the front tires would take a leap any minute. That’s not all. We had to ride on top of the amps and stuff in the back of the truck. Going to the bathroom was a joke. You had to be careful.
After playing to the hometown crowd and saying goodbye to our wives, we headed out for Atlanta at around midnight. Transportation challenges notwithstanding, we were in heaven. The next night we played to a packed audience in a little club called The Bistro. I met a young singer-songwriter named Mark Heard that night. A few years later he released his album Victims of the Age that, to me, was one of the best records of that era.
The third night of the tour was in Lakeland, Florida. That night was an eye-opener for us in ways that had nothing to do with music or ministry. It seemed the concert promoter and Larry Norman got into a row about getting paid. Larry actually went to the box office and absconded with what little cash he could. He paid us our two hundred dollars before he took a dime. I didn’t know this kind of illicit activity went on in Christian music. It felt just like the business I witnessed in the rock ‘n’ roll clubs. That was sad. Fortunately, that kind of nonsense didn’t happen very often.
* * *
It was rare, over the course of our entire career, to encounter unscrupulous people. But it did happen from time to time. One of the most memorable examples was a bizarre night at a mega church in the late 1980s when the band was at its peak. The business arrangement for the show was extremely simple. The church would sell general admission tickets for five dollars at the door, meaning there would be no reserved seating or pre-sale tickets. The church held up to ten thousand people. It was a huge place. The agreement stated we would split the gross proceeds fifty-fifty. It was very basic, down and dirty, and to the point.
We showed up at the church and everything was perfect. The building was stunning and there was a large stage for us to have room to set everything up. The church was set up for concerts and had baffling around the room to help with the sound. Sometimes, church buildings can be challenging because most weren’t designed to be concert venues—especially back then. That building was ideal for our big show. We had a tour bus and a semi-tractor trailer full of equipment. Including the opening act and the crew there were probably around eighteen people on tour with us. It was a significant operation with a lot of overhead.
The folks we worked with during the day couldn’t have been nicer. The church partnered with a local radio station to get the word out. As concert time drew closer there were extremely long lines of fans surrounding the entire building. The concert was a fantastic experience. To top it off, we sold it out. The place was stuffed to the rafters. Ten thousand people showed up. We were elated.
After the concert, and completing the ministry and counseling that were a big part of what D&K was about, the band was out on our tour bus visiting with some fans. The crew was about done packing up the semi when our road manager on this tour, Dooley, came on the bus and asked if he could speak to me outside. He didn’t want the others to hear what we needed to discuss.
“We got a real problem,” Dooley said. “When I went to settle the business with the church business guys, they added all these expenses on their side of the ledger they say they have to recover before we split any proceeds. After their expenses there’s only a couple thousand bucks left to split between us.”
“What?” I asked. “Didn’t we have ten thousand people buy tickets?”
“Yes”
“Don’t we have a simple deal to split the money? They pay their expenses. We pay ours. Right?”
“Yes. That’s the deal alright,” he confirmed.
“Well, that ain’t gonna work,” I said. “Let’s go talk to these guys.”
Dooley led me into an office down a hallway, behind the stage. There were still a bunch of folks everywhere tidying up, moving equipment, and helping put the place back together. I walked into the office
with Dooley and saw four business-looking guys sitting there at a desk and a small conference table. Mind you, this was when I still looked like a wrestler with a blonde mane going halfway down my back, and I was still dressed in my rock ‘n’ roll clothes. Me standing next to the businessmen must have been a peculiar comparison. I wish I had a picture.
“Gentlemen,” I said, “Dooley tells me we have a disagreement as to how our deal works. It’s our understanding, and it clearly states in the contract, that we are to split the gross proceeds 50/50.”
One of the businessmen looked at me squarely and said, “Sonny,” (you heard that right. He called me “Sonny.”) “Sonny, this is the way we do it here. The church has expenses that must be paid before we split up any money.”
Then Dooley handed me the settlement sheet they composed, which was basically a ledger showing expenses. There was a large sum of rent paid to the church. There was a grotesque amount for catering paid to the church. There was a security bill paid to the church. There was an usher bill paid to the church. There were crew, set up fees, and vehicle rental fees. You guessed it—all payable to the church.
So, after I gagged a little, I told the businessman, “We have overhead too. We have a bus, a tractor-trailer, and eighteen people on the road. The deal was simple. We are supposed to split the gross amount of cash. We couldn’t have come if that wasn’t the deal.”
“That’s not the way we do it here,” he grunted.” We have to get our expenses paid first.”
I then looked at Dooley and said, “Go get Doug please.”
Doug was our production manager, and a really good one. He was going to love what I was about to say. After a minute Dooley and Doug came back into the room.
I looked at Doug and said, “Doug, we have a disagreement with these men here from the church. They don’t want to pay us our money. Go tell the guys to load up that big grand piano and that church organ into the back of our truck. We are taking them to Memphis with us!”
The businessman gasped. “You can’t do that!” he said. “I’ll call the police!”
“You should,” I said. “I don’t blame you a bit. I’ll call the newspapers!”
It’s funny how that turned out. We got paid. Quick.
I’ve often said you can get ripped off by a heathen or a Christian. The main difference is the Christian will admit to it when you catch him, say he’s sorry, and ask for forgiveness. He won’t pay you the money a lot of the time, mind you. But, he’ll feel bad about it. The heathen businessman usually just won’t admit to it. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that!”
* * *
After that short tour with Larry Norman, Stephen Lawhead, who enlisted to be our manager by then, and a friend of his named Harold Smith drove from Chicago to Memphis in the spring of 1978. The reason for the trip was twofold. Dana and I were going to have a day of strategic planning with Stephen. We were excited because we never had a strategy before. Also, Stephen and his wife Alice bought a new car and decided to give Susan and me their old one. He and Harold towed that car all the way from Chicago to Memphis. It was such a blessing to us at the perfect time.
Harold and Stephen stayed with us for those few days and slept together on a funky pullout sofa in our tiny living room. It’s kind of funny, now that I think about it. Stephen became a world-class, best-selling author and Harold became the editor-in-chief and CEO of Christianity Today and its host of publications. It was the world’s leading Christian magazine group. But back in 1978 we were all crammed into that six hundred square foot house dreaming up an unlikely strategy to make this Jesus rock-n-roll ministry work. We were all just young people on a great adventure.
We also met with Rick Miller that week. He was a local friend of ours who signed on and became our first booking agent. Rick said he thought there was a lot of excitement about our album and he thought he could cobble together a West Coast tour. We had never played the West Coast before and were eager to go do it. We would have left that night if we could have! Stephen and Rick also told us the “Jesus People” (the commune our friends in Resurrection Band came from) were sponsoring an all-day music event in Chicago, like a mini-festival. It was called “Love Fest” and they invited us to perform there.
Stephen then said something that might not seem like a big deal now, but was pretty radical back then. “You know guys,” he began, “When I see all the big mainstream bands play, they all have t-shirts with their names on them for sale.”
We went into a deep dive discussion about ego, pride, commercialism, and whether it was appropriate in God’s eyes to promote our image with something so crass as a t-shirt with our names plastered across the front of it. Dana wasn’t so sure.
The next day I went out and ordered five hundred t-shirts. I was sure. Susan did the design for the shirt, complete with a lightning bolt between the “D” and the “K.” What could be better?
We also needed a touring band. David Spain decided he didn’t want to start touring again after his years with Target, so we were on the hunt for a full-time drummer. I can’t recall how I became aware of Terry Moxley, but I’ll definitely never forget him. He had quite a resumé. He spent several years drumming for Charlie Rich. Charlie had some big hit records during those years and was playing in arenas.
When I first called Terry, it was after his Charlie Rich days, and he was playing at a club called The Airport Lounge off Airways Boulevard in Memphis. I knew the place. Terry said he was very interested in playing with a Christian group and was ready to move beyond the club scene. I went out to see him play. I was very impressed with his drumming chops. I hired him on the spot. Kenny Porter, who played bass on our album, decided to join up and go on tour as well.
That Chicago trip was huge for us. It was an all-day music festival with several artists and speakers. I had never been to a Christian music festival before. There was no pot smoke hovering around in the air and no stoned people stumbling around. People’s eyes weren’t glazed over like I saw at some of the mainstream festivals. It was a great day and an eye-opener as well.
When we played that afternoon the atmosphere was electric. The festival was inside a cavernous building that looked like an airplane hangar. When we took to the stage, the crowd roared and it felt like a real rock show. We played, preached, and shared Jesus to a wildly enthusiastic crowd. But not everyone was enthused.
There was a group of very offended pastors who wanted to talk to us as soon as we walked off the stage. They all seemed to be baring their teeth at us. They were mostly upset about Kenny, our bass player. They thought he gyrated his hips inappropriately as he played his guitar. Sound familiar? That was the very same thing that got Elvis in trouble when he appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show in the 1950s. The television network decided it would only show Elvis from the waist-up in one of the most famous, and now humorous, rock-n-roll scandals of all time.
Anyway, Dana and I told Kenny and threatened we would make him play inside a refrigerator box with armholes to hold his bass and a window cut in the front of the box only showing him from the waist-up if he didn’t stop gyrating his hips like Elvis. Actually, Kenny got his feelings hurt badly that day. He was just into the music. We heard that kind of stuff a lot in our early days, as bizarre as it sounds.
We also sold out of t-shirts. We sold every last one. Dana came around really quickly on that issue.
After the Chicago journey and traveling in an old beat-up wreck of a van, it became clear we desperately needed a permanent travel solution. We had a West Coast tour coming up and needed something sturdy with sufficient room to ride inside and also haul our band equipment. I found a used Ford “Hi-Cube Van.” That kind of truck worked for us because the driver’s compartment was open to the cargo box on the back. You couldn’t pass through standing up, but you could half crawl all bent over from the front to the rear. That truck had a fourteen-foot long cargo box behind the driver’s compartment.
After we bought it, we built a wall top to bottom about five feet from
the front end of the cargo area, just behind the cab. That gave us a little room for passengers with all of our gear stacked in the back behind the wall. Dana and I did the work in my driveway. Mr. Bill came over from next door to supervise, and Mike, the parrot, yelled at us every time we went to hammering.
Across the truck, at the bottom of the wall, we built a rough couch facing the back of the driver’s and passenger seats so you could sit on it and look out the windshield. It was kind of like The Beverly Hillbillies, except we had a roof over us. Above the couch we made two bunk beds with just enough headroom to sit on the couch below. The couch also doubled as a bunk, so you could sleep three people high. We made the sofa bottom and the bunks tilt toward the rear a little bit, so if the driver hit the brakes too hard in the middle of the night, the sleeping band members might not fly out of their bunks. I emphasize the word “might.” It worked most of the time. We put a roof vent in the ceiling because the truck didn’t have air conditioning. No joke! There was no air conditioning.
Susan made cushions for the couch and mattresses for the bunks and covered the cushions with colorful striped material. We were looking uptown and fashionable at least. She could sew and make anything. She learned how to make her own clothes while growing up with a single-mom in the sixties. They couldn’t afford store-bought dresses so Susan just made her own. She got so good at it she made wedding dresses, purses, bags, and many other things to make extra money when we needed it early in our marriage.
We knew the truck was a Godsend. In fact, we named it “Happy Truck” because it made us so happy. That was then . . .
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