Read Online Raisin' Cain: The Wild and Raucous Story of Johnny Winter (Kindle Edition) by Mary Lou Sullivan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Lou Sullivan
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dominant personality and a natural leader and was always the bandleader,” said Edgar. “Johnny also had ambition. He dreamed of being famous from an early age. He always wanted to watch American Bandstand and I would want to watch Frontier Theater and cowboy movies.”
Johnny had plans for his band and—even at fifteen—knew that stage presence and a flashy appearance would translate into more gigs. He held onto a portion of the band’s income so they could dress like professional musicians.
“He’d just tell us how much we made,” said Drugan. “I don’t think anybody ever asked how much the whole job paid. At the end of the night, Johnny would always figure out how much money he had in the kitty. He’d say, ‘You get two dollars.’ I’d say, ‘How much is left?’ and he’d say, ‘Don’t worry about that—that’s for our shirts,”’ Drugan said with a laugh. “In those days you wore uniforms, the same colored shirts. We went to a place called ‘The Crack in the Wall,’ a store in Beaumont that was about ten or twelve feet wide. They had the best lively colored shirts in town. We got fire-engine red shirts and gold shirts; Johnny liked flashy stuff—the flashiest shirts he could find—with black dress pants. We were real class.”
Inspired by photographs of Muddy Waters, B. B. King, and John Lee Hooker, Johnny and Drugan went down to Gordon’s Jewelry in Beaumont to buy flashy jewelry to complete the look. Johnny made an initial fifteen-dollar down payment on a diamond ring he still wears nearly half a century later.
“I had to pay it off while I was wearing it.” Johnny says. “It took me a long time; about a hundred years to pay it off,” he adds with a laugh.
With the wardrobe and the bling, Johnny and the Jammers moved up from school functions to clubs and roadhouses. The band’s first gigs for adult audiences were at a roadhouse in Beaumont known by two names—Lucille’s and Tom’s Fish Camp. The band played a ninety-minute set, followed by a twenty-minute break, and an hour-long closing set. Johnny knew how he wanted each song to sound and paid close attention to every note.
“If he didn’t like the notes you played, he’d turn around and give you a dirty look,” said Drugan. “He was pretty strict with his brother too. If he did something he didn’t like, Johnny would give him a whack with his guitar. Edgar would say, ‘I’m gonna tell Momma on you.’ We did Ray Charles’s ‘What’d I Say,’ which was very popular at the time. Edgar played a Wurlitzer keyboard and kept tuning it because Johnny would go crazy if something wasn’t tuned right.
“We played Lucille’s every Friday night. After a while we played every Friday and Saturday. We were underage, but it was a backwoods thing and people didn’t care. We weren’t allowed to drink but we played until about eleven o’clock.”
Although patrons may have been skeptical when they noticed the age of the musicians, their skepticism dissolved once the Jammers began to play. Texans were used to hearing country music; the music Johnny played didn’t fit into that mold. “They were amazed,” said Drugan. “There were a lot of country and western bands, but as far as blues and rock ‘n’ roll, it was just getting started.”
Johnny remembers Tom’s Fish Camp as a rowdy roadhouse that served beer and all you can eat portions of fried catfish and frog legs. He was fifteen and Edgar was only twelve, so it took a little convincing to get their parents to allow them to play the club.
“Our drummer’s daddy was a patron of Tom’s Fish Camp,” says Johnny. “That helped them let us play there. My parents didn’t like it, but they finally let us play. Dave’s daddy was supposed to be lookin’ after us but he wasn’t really. He was just drinkin’.”
“Tom’s Fish Camp was owned by an old couple, Tom and Tiny,” said Edgar. “Tiny was a 250-pound lady. They had sawdust on the floor and people came in
Johnny had plans for his band and—even at fifteen—knew that stage presence and a flashy appearance would translate into more gigs. He held onto a portion of the band’s income so they could dress like professional musicians.
“He’d just tell us how much we made,” said Drugan. “I don’t think anybody ever asked how much the whole job paid. At the end of the night, Johnny would always figure out how much money he had in the kitty. He’d say, ‘You get two dollars.’ I’d say, ‘How much is left?’ and he’d say, ‘Don’t worry about that—that’s for our shirts,”’ Drugan said with a laugh. “In those days you wore uniforms, the same colored shirts. We went to a place called ‘The Crack in the Wall,’ a store in Beaumont that was about ten or twelve feet wide. They had the best lively colored shirts in town. We got fire-engine red shirts and gold shirts; Johnny liked flashy stuff—the flashiest shirts he could find—with black dress pants. We were real class.”
Inspired by photographs of Muddy Waters, B. B. King, and John Lee Hooker, Johnny and Drugan went down to Gordon’s Jewelry in Beaumont to buy flashy jewelry to complete the look. Johnny made an initial fifteen-dollar down payment on a diamond ring he still wears nearly half a century later.
“I had to pay it off while I was wearing it.” Johnny says. “It took me a long time; about a hundred years to pay it off,” he adds with a laugh.
With the wardrobe and the bling, Johnny and the Jammers moved up from school functions to clubs and roadhouses. The band’s first gigs for adult audiences were at a roadhouse in Beaumont known by two names—Lucille’s and Tom’s Fish Camp. The band played a ninety-minute set, followed by a twenty-minute break, and an hour-long closing set. Johnny knew how he wanted each song to sound and paid close attention to every note.
“If he didn’t like the notes you played, he’d turn around and give you a dirty look,” said Drugan. “He was pretty strict with his brother too. If he did something he didn’t like, Johnny would give him a whack with his guitar. Edgar would say, ‘I’m gonna tell Momma on you.’ We did Ray Charles’s ‘What’d I Say,’ which was very popular at the time. Edgar played a Wurlitzer keyboard and kept tuning it because Johnny would go crazy if something wasn’t tuned right.
“We played Lucille’s every Friday night. After a while we played every Friday and Saturday. We were underage, but it was a backwoods thing and people didn’t care. We weren’t allowed to drink but we played until about eleven o’clock.”
Although patrons may have been skeptical when they noticed the age of the musicians, their skepticism dissolved once the Jammers began to play. Texans were used to hearing country music; the music Johnny played didn’t fit into that mold. “They were amazed,” said Drugan. “There were a lot of country and western bands, but as far as blues and rock ‘n’ roll, it was just getting started.”
Johnny remembers Tom’s Fish Camp as a rowdy roadhouse that served beer and all you can eat portions of fried catfish and frog legs. He was fifteen and Edgar was only twelve, so it took a little convincing to get their parents to allow them to play the club.
“Our drummer’s daddy was a patron of Tom’s Fish Camp,” says Johnny. “That helped them let us play there. My parents didn’t like it, but they finally let us play. Dave’s daddy was supposed to be lookin’ after us but he wasn’t really. He was just drinkin’.”
“Tom’s Fish Camp was owned by an old couple, Tom and Tiny,” said Edgar. “Tiny was a 250-pound lady. They had sawdust on the floor and people came in
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