BILL MACK - 1932-2020

When I first got my drivers license way back when, one of my first jobs was delivering the Bluefield Daily Telegraph newspaper to subscribers around my hometown.  Ever morning for more than a year I would get up at 4 a.m., pickup the 390 papers that I would stuff into newspaper tubes or folded and toss onto a front porch (some made it some didn’t.). 

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During the darkness of those lonely mornings, I would tune in to the tune in to the 50,000 watt – clear channel radio station from such places as Fort Worth, New Orleans, Nashville, and Cincinnati.  The Voice of Charlie Douglas from way down yonder in New Orleans, became a constant companion.  Over the years as I travel through the night, others like Big John Trimble from WRVA in Richmond, and Dale Sommers who was known to the his all night audience as “The Truckin’ Bozo,” from WWL in Cincinnati, rode along and kept me company.   I spent many a night, and early morning driving around this country listening to what was referred to way back then as All Night Trucking Radio. 

Today, we lost another one of those treasured voices. Bill Mack, the Midnight Cowboy from the tiny town of Shamrock, Texas died today at the age of 88. For more than 30-years, Bill Mack broadcast his all-night radio show over Forth Worth’s Clear Channel Station, WBAP-820. 

When the sun went down and the small local stations ended their broadcast day, the clear channel station and old friends like Charlie, Big John, Bozo and of course Bill would show up and keep me company. With his humor and that unmistakable Texas Twang, Bill Mack was that friendly voice in the night that make the dark highway a little brighter and a little less lonely. Thank you old friend for riding along and keeping me company.

Rest in Peace, Bill Mack – The Midnight Cowboy (1932-2020)

THE GREENBRIER GHOST

Sometimes you don’t have to go far to find a good story. This was the case a few years back when I was piddling around in Greenbrier County, West Virginia. I happened upon a roadside historical marker that details the life and death of Zona Hester Shue who is known as the Greenbrier Ghost.

Zona lived with her mother in the Greenbrier County Community of Sam Black Church. In 1896 despite her mother’s objection, Zona married Erasmus Shue, who was basically a drifter that came to the area and found work as a blacksmith. For almost a year the couple seemed to live a peaceful life, but on January 23, 1897 a neighbor found Zona dead in here home.

The coroner examined the body and ruled that she had died of Natural Causes. The next day Zona was buried in a near by church cemetery.

About four weeks after Zona was buried, she appeared to her mother Mary Jane in a dream and claimed that she had been murdered by Erasmus. Zona told her that Erasmus had broken her neck in a fit of rage and to prove it Zona turned her head around until it was facing backward. Mary Jane was so sure of the story that Zona’s Ghost has told her that she contacted the local prosecutor and eventually convinced him to re-examine the case

Mary Jane’s persistence paid off and on February 22, 1897, Zona’s body was exhumed and thoroughly examined. After three day the coroner concluded that Zona’s neck had indeed been broken. The examination also revealed she had been choked and here windpipe Crushed.

As a result, Erasmus was promptly arrested and charged with Zona’s murder. In July 1897 Erasmus went on trial, and the star witness was, Zona who testified through her mother, Mary Jane. As a result, Erasmus was found guilty of the murder of his wife Zona. He was sentenced to life and died three years later in the West Virginia State Prison in Moundville. He is buried in the White Gate Prison Cemetery and remains the only person known to have been convicted on the testimony of a ghost.

LUCKENBACH & TURKEY

There are a few things that are on bucket lists for most country music fans. The Ryman Auditorium, home of the Grand Ole Opry is probably the most often listed place. After all it is called “The Mother Church of Country Music.”

However, in 2018 when I was on my month-long Texas Adventure, I made a point to visit two sites that were on my Country Music Bucket List. Midway through my Texas Adventure, I found myself in the Texas Hill Country where I spent a few days visiting Fredericksburg, and Johnson City, including the Lyndon B. Johnson National Historic and the Texas White House.

One afternoon after finishing my Visit to the LBJ Ranch, I decided to go looking for Waylon, Willie, and the Boys. Yep I made my way down to Luckenbach, Texas. When not hosting music performances, Luckenbach resembles a ghost town, with only a Post Office/General Store, Saloon, and a few small refreshments stands that open during performances. But in it hay day, thousands of country music fans would flock here to see local and national stars. In fact, Luckenback was the home of the Willie Nelson 4th of July Picnic for several years. Just like the Eagles song, “Taking it Easy” made “Standing on the Corner in Winslow, Arizona” a popular thing to do, (yes I have stood on the corner, but that’s a story for another time), Luckenback, became a go to place for country music fans because of the Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson song, “Back to the Basics of Love.” The rest as they say is history. 

On the day of my visit there were a few other tourists searching for the Boys, but we didn’t find them, so we decided to forgo our search and enjoy some BBQ and a Lone Star Beer. After a visit to the Gift Shop/Post Office/Store, it was time to move on down the road and continue my Texas Adventure.

Later, as my adventure was winding down, I was able to scratch another place off my country music bucket list. One thing that I found out while visiting Texas is “It don’t matter who’s in Austin, Bob Wills is still the King.” So, I decided to make the 100-mile trip from Amarillo down to the small (and I mean really small) town of Turkey, Texas, which proudly claims the King of Western Swing as their own.

Bob Wills lived here as a boy and young man. He even worked as a barber here before heading off on a path that would take him all the way to the Country Music Hall of Fame. As I walked around this small town, I must say that I was impressed with the people who are bound and determined to keep the memory of Bob and his Texas Playboys alive. Even though Bob died in 1975, his music and his memory is still very much alive here in Turkey.

Each year in April the entire town hosts the Annual Bob Wills Festival. I must say the highlight of my visit was realizing that the young people of Turkey not only know who Bob Wills is but also embrace his music. No Rap or Hip Hop here.

This was never more evident than when I was walking around town and heard the unmistakable sound of those twin fiddles. I first thought it had to be coming from a radio, but I rounded the corner and found three young people sitting in a front yard playing “Faded Love”. Come to find out they were practicing for the Upcoming Bob Wills Festival.

Two Girls, ages 7 and 14 and a 10-year-old boy were alone practicing in their front yard. I stood and listened to the unmistakable sound that was Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. Before moving on, I told them that since I won’t be here for the festival would they take a request. The 10-year old very confidently told me, “If it’s Bob Wills, we can play it.” 

So, they finished up with my favorite Bob Wills song, “San Antonio Rose.” WOW! Is all I can say. What a way to end my visit to the small town Turkey, Texas, and to say that those three young people were amazing would be an understatement. And to say that I enjoyed my visit to Luckenbach and Turkey would also be an amazing understatement.

VISITING THE ALAMO AT NIGHT

 In March of 2018, I spent a little over a month traveling around the State of Texas. From Beaumont to El Paso and almost everything in between, I experienced Miles and Miles of Texas. I attended the First and Second rounds of the NCAA Basketball Tournament in Dallas and then a couple of weeks later spent some time in San Antonio in the days leading up to the NCAA Final Four.

I spent some time at some of the free Final Four Events scattered around town and I enjoyed the River Walk before heading out of town a few days before the big event.

Of course, I made it to the Alamo. It was crowded and like most places now days there is always people protesting something. But I fought the crowds, tuned out the protesters and took the tour.

Now fast forward to October 2018 when I embarked on another adventure, this time I left the driving to Amtrak. I traveled from Roanoke to Washington, and then overnight in a roomette on the Capitol Limited from Washington to Chicago. In the Windy City, I boarded the Texas Eagle for my three-day, two-night adventure would take me all the way to Phoenix Arizona.

I absolutely loved traveling long distance by train, but that’s another story. But one thing that I really enjoyed was the community seating in the dining car. Me being a single traveler I was always seated with three other folks and almost always enjoy my companions. In fact, I made several new friends that I still stay in touch with today. 

Anyway, we were scheduled to arrive in San Antonio about 9 p.m. on the second night. Here the Texas Eagle and the Sunset Limited (from New Orleans) are joined to form one train that goes all the way to Los Angeles. It takes a while for the two trains to be linked up and we were not scheduled to depart San Antonio until about 2 a.m.

The one thing that you must understand about Amtrak it that it is at the mercy of the different railroad lines and freight trains get priority. Because of this Amtrak is almost always late arriving at the stations. But on this evening, we arrived in San Antonio over an hour early so we had a little over 6-hours to kill. 

As I said, I had made friends with some of my dining companions, so our little group decided to go exploring. The Amtrak Station is in easy walking distance of downtown San Antonio and the River Walk. So off we went. We took one of the water taxi’s around the River Walk and spent some time enjoying the San Antonio Night Life at a few of the many bars that line the River Walk.

A couple of my traveling companions were from Canada and mentioned how disappointed they were to be in San Antonio and not see the Alamo. I told them it was only a short walk from the Alamo, so off we went. Arriving at the Alamo this time was so different from what I had experience back in March. Gone were the Crowds of tourist and protesters. The square was deserted and almost totally quiet. We stood in silence, Remembering The Alamo. Off to the side stood a lone Texas Ranger, guarding the honor of this sacred site.

After spending some time silently walking around the square none of us spoke as we returned to the River Walk and enjoyed a little more Texas hospitality. Then it was time to head back to the station. On the short walk back to the train my Canadian Friends said something that I believe we all were thinking. They said there were really surprised at how emotional and moving our night-time visit to the Alamo had been.

A little while later as I lay in bed waiting to depart, I could not help but think just how different my two visits to the Alamo had been. In March, the Alamo was a tourist attraction, clogged with people and protester. But on this October Night we had the opportunity to stand quietly, to reflect and remember just what happened here way back in 1836.

If you ever get to San Antonio I do encourage to visit during the day, fight the crowds, brave the protesters, and take the tour. But then return at night, it’s then that you will truly understand and appreciate why the Alamo is so special. and why it is the Sacred Shrine of Texas.

THE PRICE OF INDEPENDENCE

Over the years I have made several visits to our Nations Most Hallowed Ground – Arlington National Cemetery. There is no other place like it. I am always humbled as I watch the lone sentinel walk the 21-steps across the mat. The reverence, honor and dedication to duty is amazing. I am further humbled as I watch the precision in which the Changing of the Guard is performed. But I am most humbled when I walk silently and alone among the simple marble headstones. It then that I truly realize the real cost of freedom. 

A few years back, as I was walking quietly among the neat white stones, I notice there were a large number of aging veterans in the cemetery. Some were in wheelchairs, other on walkers and other were being assisted by family, friends, and caregivers. Most were veteran of World War II, many in uniform but all were wearing hats or name tags indicating their service. Those youthful faces who were at place like Omaha Beach, Iwo Jima, Midway and Pearl Harbor, were now wrinkled and worn.

As I walked among them, I noticed an elderly gentleman sitting alone in his wheelchair. I watched him for a few minutes before walking over, shook his hand and simply said, “Sir, I want to thank you for your service and for the freedom I enjoy.” He very quietly said, “Thank You, but I got a friend buried over there who did more than I ever could. I wish we could thank him.” I sat down on the bench next to him and for the next few minute we talked about his friend who was killed in action in France during World War II.
 As he talked, I watched as his eyes overflowed with tears. As I listened the love that he had for his friend and the other that he served with was obvious, and my own eyes began to overflow too.

I had been listening to this American Hero for the better part of 30-minutes, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands shaking and his voice cracking. We continue to talk, and I ask him if he could have had one thing from back home during those awful day of combat what would it have been. He looked at me and without hesitation said, “Dry Socks.” To say that I was not prepared for his answer would be an understatement. He went to explain that they marched day in and day out. Crossing rivers, streams and through swamps and at night they slept in the rain in foxholes and trenches. He explained that trench foot was a real problem. He when on to explain that some of his buddies had to have the foot amputated as a result.

Then he told me something ever more amazing. When the war ended and he made it back home, whenever he went to the store to by socks, he always bough two packs. One for himself and one pack that he donated to the veteran’s hospital or his local homeless shelter. A practice that he continues to this very day. 

A few minutes late one of the chaperones came up and end our visit as it was time for his group to move on. I shook his hand, I told him what an honor it was to meet him and once again thanked him for his service. As I was turning to leave, he handed me a quarter and ask me if I would place it on his friend’s stone. I took the coin and walked up the hill. I removed my hat as I knelt and placed coin on the stone. I look back and tears were once again streaming down his cheek as his chaperone slowly push him away. I have been back to Arlington two times since and each time I have made it a point to stop by and visit the grave of this veteran’s friend.

Today, as we celebrate our Independence I am reminded that no one and I mean no one can truly know the price of Freedom it you haven’t clutched the perfectly folded flag that has covered the coffin of a son, daughter, husband or wife. America is the LAND OF THE FREE BECAUSE OF THE BRAVE.