Garth’s early career was built on performances in the honky-tonks across the country, many of them in the Southwest: Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Kansas, Colorado. The people who came out to hear him had much in common with those Gilleyrats who had captured the nation’s attention in 1980. They were from a broad spectrum of the population—blue-collar workers, professionals, young and old. It was like Gilley’s owner Sherwood Cryer had once said, a honky-tonk is a place to go to shake off the world. Sure, getting rowdy down at the bar was just a quick fix, but it damn sure was better than sitting home alone on a Saturday night, nursing a beer and a grudge against your swing shift supervisor.
Garth liked the crowds and trusted the people to tell him whether his music worked. He even started using what he called the “Shorty’s bar” test for his albums. Garth first learned about the little Southwest Kansas bar when a Capitol employee went home for a visit and played the clientele a copy of The Chase. The crowd loved it, especially the tongue-in-cheek pick-up line tune “Mr. Right” and the cowboy classic “Night Rider’s Lament.” When one recently divorced young farmer heard the line “learning to live again is killing me,” he said, “Damn straight.”
Not one of the crowd had problems with the socially conscious themes found in “Face To Face” or “We Shall Be Free.” Garth thought the industry underestimated country listeners, whether they were tuned to a radio station in Detroit or sitting in a small-town honky-tonk. They were not a bunch of rubes. Even after multiples of millions in sales, he always asked the employee to send Shorty’s a copy of each album and report back.
In 1993, around Nashville there were fifteen gold albums, twenty-six platinum, five double platinum, four triple platinum, and, of course, Billy Ray Cyrus’s whopping debut, Some Gave All, which had sold 7 million and was well on the way to nine. Nashvillians in the business of selling records were ecstatic. But it was a time of cautious optimism for the country concert industry.
Because of renewed interest in the genre, more than two hundred country acts were heading out on the road in the summer of ’93. In May Billboard reported that the booking industry feared many major markets would be saturated. Garth’s tour, which would begin at Cheyenne Frontier Days in Wyoming and end in Aberdeen, Scotland, would not even begin until August, after most road shows had been out for months.
But less than a month after the Billboard article appeared it was clear that saturation was not a problem. Mike Combs, events manager for the Tacoma Dome in Washington, told Variety that country shows were leading the concert charge, and pointed to Garth’s two shows that sold 44,426 tickets within minutes of going on sale. The Idaho Falls Post Register reported that people were standing in ticket lines more than two months ahead of the August 21 concert. As one Pocatello resident said, “It’s just a once-in-a-lifetime thing. If you get a chance, you ought to do it.”
In fact, Garth sold capacity in all markets, from Las Vegas to Minneapolis. Everybody, it seemed, had a ticket story. The Bismarck Tribune reported one of the funniest: A local woman called a police dispatcher to report that her brother-in-law had just left town with a pocketbook she needed. At first the woman was too embarrassed to say why she needed her purse so desperately. But after speaking to a couple of dispatchers, she confessed, “It wasn’t so much the pocketbook. It was the eight tickets to a Garth Brooks concert.” The dispatcher didn’t hesitate: “Oh my God,” he said. “That is an emergency.” A state trooper (obviously a fan) flagged down the brother-in-law’s car and made arrangements for the woman’s daughter to collect the tickets.
Garth brought in crowds of all ages, not just the college kids who’d considered “Friends In Low Places” a rallying cry. After the Canadian leg of the ’93 tour, the The Ottawa Citizen published a letter from a woman who said, “I just felt like one of the teenage girls, 20 years younger, singing and screaming.”
Ticket scalping escalated to the point that Garth took his case to the Tennessee Senate. “It’s the people who pay for it,” he told the lawmakers. “It’s not me.” But the state senate declined to take action, so Garth fought back the only way he knew how, by adding more shows when the market called for it.
“I get letters from people who tell me that they camped out and waited in line for days, and right before the box office opened a van pulls up and twelve guys get out and get all the great tickets,” he told Tune-In’s Sandy Adzgery. “I feel I have to do something about this situation.”
He tried to combat scalpers in several ways. If the long lines presented a problem for some sales outlets, armbands were available to ensure that people could return and get their same place. He also came up with a plan to keep seating fair. Tickets for seats in the first two rows were not sold. Then, about a half an hour before the show started, the crew went to the back rows and handed out upgrades. One audience member from the show in Ottawa wrote to the Ottawa Citizen, “Just when you can’t get any higher in the Civic Center, someone from the band comes up and gives you front-row seats!”
And what did the ticket buyers get in return?
The Lewiston Morning Tribune’s Nicole Peradotto reviewed the Pullman, Washington, show: “Thunder rumbles. Lights flash and descend from the ceiling like tentacles. Is it Madonna in that mirrored elevator rising out of the middle of the stage? Michael Jackson, perhaps? Hang on to your plastic seat. It’s Garth Brooks. Brooks’s stage show has enough bright lights to land a fleet of 747’s. The sound effects range from nasal buzzes to blasting explosions. The biggest explosion is Brooks himself. At Saturday’s sold-out concert in Beasley Coliseum, the former javelin thrower from Oklahoma State University sprinted the width of the stage at least a hundred times, stamped the ground almost as often and swung over the crowd on a rope a la David Lee Roth. Is this a country concert? Well, yes. Which country is anybody’s guess. What everyone in Beasley Coliseum knows for sure was that wherever Brooks was going, they would follow.”
Garth took Sandy and one-year-old Taylor with him through most of the dates and drew good-natured ribs from promoters who reported a different sort of requirement. While some touring artists sent demands for elaborate menus and drinks, Garth’s first need came in the shape of a question: got any suggestions for baby outings in the city?
The couple often took Taylor out together while in the scheduled cities. Zoos were favorite haunts for Garth, Sandy, and Taylor, and their appreciation remained constant over the years. In 1998, when the fledgling Nashville Children’s Zoo needed friends it found two in Garth and Sandy, who donated a million dollars. One of the most important considerations for Sandy was that zoo visits involved learning experiences. It was left to Sandy to name the children’s zoo, and she chose to honor Mae Boren Axton, the co-writer of “Heartbreak Hotel,” and a beloved figure in Music City. Most who knew her called her “Mama Mae” and her death in 1997 was a blow to the industry. Since Mama Mae had been a teacher and champion of education, she seemed a perfect fit.
Because Taylor was in bed by eight thirty every night, she didn’t attend the concerts themselves, but sound checks had made her aware of her father’s connection to music. “Taylor can recognize her daddy when she sees him on television or hears him on the radio,” Sandy explained. “When Garth is on television, Taylor will stop whatever she is doing and get three feet in front of the TV and she is glued.”
On October 1 at his Charlotte, North Carolina, concert, Garth brought the crowd to its feet when he announced that the Brooks family was expecting another child in May 1994. Knowing that Taylor would be but a toddler when the new baby arrived, Garth and Sandy began preparing her for a new sister or brother. One worry Sandy had was that her “rocking schedule” with Taylor would by necessity change with an infant in the house. Over the next months the couple began weaning Taylor away from expecting to be rocked to sleep every night, and to be comfortable sleeping in her own room when at home. Sleeping was problematic on the road, since Taylor didn’t like the small cribs provided at hotels, preferring to sleep in an adjoinin
g queen-sized bed next to her parents. It was a habit Sandy knew she’d have to break soon. Unlike many star families, which come complete with a hoard of nannies and others operating as surrogate parents, the Brooks method was hands-on.
Even though Garth often had his family on the road with him, he was still traveling with the band. The 45-by-8½-foot bus was remodeled to include a room for the family in back; Taylor’s bed had a spring suspension that hung from the ceiling. The band’s sleeping area was in the middle portion of the bus, and a common area was in front.
“We now have thirteen people on the bus,” he said. “But I can’t find it in my heart to separate the artist from the band, so we’ll all stay together.” Then he laughed and added, “As long as we don’t kill each other.” Also, Garth told USA Today that he saw some very practical aspects to staying on one bus. If you don’t keep bandmates as busmates, “You never see each other except onstage. And being closer can save a show. Say somebody might be having a bad night [onstage]. Maybe there’s an inside joke or something you can scream at them and keep them laughing.”
Stephanie Davis opened the 1993 shows for Garth. It was not the first time she played a big concert with him, though. Stephanie was a Montana girl who’d come to Nashville to be a singer, and she saw her writing as being more directed at her own potential projects. She found co-writing somewhat difficult until she started collaborating with Garth. The two had a lot in common. They both had small-town outlooks and values, were both youngest children, and both loved songs that had a depth of meaning. But, she confessed, even after they had some hit songs she often put him off with one excuse or another. Garth knew that in Stephanie’s dreams, she would return to Montana someday and own a ranch. That was how he convinced her to continue co-writing: “Come on, Stephanie, we’ve got a ranch to write.”
Stephanie also confided to Garth that her parents thought her music aspirations were just a little crazy. They had no interest in music, didn’t even own a tape player. Nor could they grasp that songwriters could earn a living, or what her connection to this country singer meant. The two friends laughed about the family disconnect at various times, until Garth realized that he was playing some concerts in Montana in 1992. He had Stephanie send tickets to her parents and told them that he would be performing one of her songs. Then, without telling Mom and Dad, Stephanie flew in for the show. When it came time to sing “Wolves” Garth brought her onto the stage, saying, “This is our Montana songwriter.”
It had been over a year since Stephanie had seen her parents. It was a tearful backstage reunion and they never again questioned her vocation. For his part, Garth loved singing with Stephanie and believed she would be a terrific opening act. For the gig to benefit her best she needed to have a record people could buy, so Garth told her to let him know if she had anything in the works. But when Stephanie signed a deal with Asylum Records and had a self-titled release scheduled for August 1993, she didn’t tell Garth. After all, another of his co-writers, Victoria Shaw (“The River”) also had an album in the works, and Stephanie was afraid that she’d seem pushy. One day the phone rang.
“Are you ready to open the ’93 shows?” Garth asked. “We head out on the road in August, just about the time your album comes out.”
“I know that people are coming to see Garth,” Stephanie said at the time. “While I’m singing most folks are still finding their seats. But knowing that takes the pressure off me. There weren’t great expectations, so we just went out there and said, ‘Wow! This is fun!’ ” So, then, what was Stephanie’s primary concern in the early weeks? She’d spent some hermitlike years in sweatpants. She needed to go shopping.
Stephanie got more than passing approval from Garth’s fans. When she started opening the show she received standing ovations and encores. Stephanie stayed with the tour until early 1994 when Garth brought Martina McBride and Alison Krauss on the road, then, for the European leg, Susan Ashton.
By this time Garth had convinced his brother Kelly to join the team as manager and accountant for the tours. Kelly had a good banking position in Oklahoma City when Garth started asking him to consider coming to work with him. Kelly put his little brother off several times, until finally Garth phoned and said, “Kelly, I really need you.” The tours had simply gotten too big, and Garth knew he needed someone who knew what he was doing, and was completely trustworthy. Kelly gave notice and headed to Nashville. Garth’s childhood friend Mickey Weber was also on board running the day-to-day road operations.
One of the most important things about this tour was that it opened up the European market to country music. Due in large part to Garth’s record sales, the country industry showed a 76 percent increase in revenue between 1990 and 1992, which encouraged both the Country Music Association and Country Music Television to look to Europe as a much bigger market than had previously been thought possible. Selling country music to the European audiences had always been a gamble. Entertainers were often disappointed because the audiences were not as responsive as those in the United States. But industry leaders wanted the exposure and they looked to the man they considered their one safe bet. In 1993 they put it a way they knew Garth would respond to: his touring Europe would be good for country music.
He had been warned that European audiences might not show much outward enthusiasm at his concerts. But Garth was unprepared for what happened during some advance promotion in London. During one set of interviews, several journalists showed up wearing tiny cowboy hats and string ties. One talk show host warbled country music, accenting the “hillbilly” aspect, and made every attempt to portray country singers and their fans as ignorant hicks. Garth later told the Chicago Sun-Times’ Dave Hoekstra, “It was the worst I ever felt as a human being, to have to sit there and take that. I kept thinking, ‘I should pop this person or walk out.’ Either way the ratings would have gone through the roof. So I just took it.” Then he went back to his hotel room and threw up. Despite the embarrassment, when Garth edited down his world tour footage for his 1995 television special, Tryin’ to Rope the World, he left in those incidents.
“It was hard to keep from getting mad on the air,” he further explained in private. “I kept having to remind myself that I was in Europe representing country music, that this wasn’t some shootout between me and this guy. There’s times you have to swallow your personal ego for something more important.”
Garth would have preferred that the critics be up front about it. He could easily deal with criticism, as long as it was out in the open and honest.
As things turned out a few hip critics and the British audiences were entirely different animals. Advance tickets for concerts in Birmingham and London, England, sold out immediately, and at the April concerts fans sang along on every song.
Never in country music’s history has an artist so completely won over the world. The international leg of the tour traveled to eleven countries and played to over a half million fans in Ireland, England, Switzerland, Germany, Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, New Zealand, Australia, Spain, and Denmark. Australia’s Courier-Mail said: “Brooks—Talent Outstrips the Hype.” In Barcelona, the crowds paid him their highest compliment, screaming “Torrero,” or matador.
But the real love affair was between Garth and the people of Ireland. After his experience with some British journalists, he was nervous. When he walked onto the Point stage in Dublin that night in March 1994, he was wary, with no idea what to expect. He felt numb as he sang his opening number. He guessed it was the way a prizefighter must feel during the first round. Just trying to feel his way.
When the band struck up “If Tomorrow Never Comes” it was as if he’d made it to round two and had his feet under him. Thousands of cigarette lighters lit up the sky as the audience began to sing along, finally taking over the song.
“It’s like they don’t need me now,” he thought. “They want me to start the song and then get out of the way.” So that’s what he did, partly because he was too emotional to hit the notes.<
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The audience kept right on singing. When the voices soared even stronger on “We Shall Be Free” Garth’s eyes filled with tears. It was a song he believed in and had stood behind when others did not. And it had been on The Chase, an album that had gotten off to a shaky start partly because of it.
“That experience may be one of the biggest things that ever happened throughout my career,” he later confided. “It’s hard to explain how much ‘We Shall Be Free’ means to me. It spoke to things that mean so much to us all—tolerance, brotherhood. And I’d be lying if I said that the initial rejection of that message didn’t hurt. That’s why I made the video and got so many other people involved, why I insisted that it be played at the Super Bowl. I hoped that the power of seeing all these prominent faces, of hearing their thoughts on where we all ought to be heading, might help make some kind of a difference. Not all songs have messages—or should. But I believed this one did. And hearing people from another country singing it made me believe that it had worked.”
By the time Garth was called back for the inevitable encore, he wondered if he had anything left in him or if he was too wrung out. Worse yet, what if the audience was too drained to respond? But when he started singing they jumped and screamed—and got Garth fired back up. When he ran to the side of the stage to reach down and take flowers from an audience member, one of the crew yelled, “Start reading the album’s liner notes! I bet they know the words!”
The overwhelming international reception couldn’t have come at a better time. After riding a crest for the first few years of his career, the sobering realities of fame had set in. But that night, onstage at the Point, none of those things mattered. And in the future, when he dreamed of audiences, he said that he still saw those Irish faces.
The Garth Factor Page 17
