Perspective

When discussing the names of legendary country performers of the mid-20th century, chances are the name Leroy Van Dyke doesn’t immediately come to mind. Van Dyke didn’t have a lot of hits, but two of his songs that DID make the charts have become synonymous with country music. Those hits spurred a career that is now in its eighth decade. Leroy Van Dyke was born in Missouri, the son of farming parents. In fact, his entire extended family was involved in the agriculture industry. During his youth, the music business never entered Van Dyke’s mind as a potential career. He attended the University of Missouri, majoring in agriculture and agriculture journalism, later working for the Chicago Tribune. But during his college days, Van Dyke picked up the guitar for the first time and taught himself to play. He quickly discovered his tenor voice could really belt out a tune, and he started writing songs. One of those, based on his family’s life in agriculture, became a hit upon its release as Van Dyke’s first ever recording. In fact, it became so popular that during his tenure in the military, serving as a soldier in Korea, he was invited to open Marilyn Monroe’s USO show. “The Auctioneer” “The Auctioneer,” released on country radio as a single in 1956, tells the story of a boy from Arkansas whose life goal is to become a cattle auctioneer. Something about the fast-talking auctioneers appealed to the youngster, and he escaped to the cattle yards whenever he could to listen and mimic the auctioneers’ calls. Much to his mother’s chagrin, the boy dropped out of school to pursue his dream, practicing auction cries both day and night. When the boy’s father hears the boy practicing, he’s less than impressed. “Son,” he said, “we just can’t stand to have an ordinary man selling things at auction using our good name.” So, he sends the boy off to auction school, where he excels. Ultimately, he reaches the top of his profession “and the people would come from miles around just to hear him make that rhythmic sound that filled their hearts with such a happy cheer.” Soon, the boy’s name spreads nationwide, and he’s known as the best auctioneer in the land. “The Auctioneer” isn’t autobiographical, although Van Dyke did spend some time in the profession. Rather, he dedicated the song to a cousin who was a well-known auctioneer in the Missouri area. Van Dyke does display some of his own “calling” abilities throughout the song as it is interspersed with fictional auction cries. The lyrics are a bit hard to follow, but one interlude, in effect, is as follows. I challenge you to say this three times fast (or if you’re up to Van Dyke’s standards, try memorizing and singing it untold thousands of times). Twenty-five dollar bid’ja now, thirty dollar, thirty wudja make it thirty bidda onna thirty dollar thirty dollar wouldja gimme, wouldja give me thirty dollar bill? I gotta thirty dolla bidja, now, five, wouldja beedle onna thirty-five biddle on a thirty-five, thirty-five? Who’s gonna bitta the thirty-five dollar bill? “The Auctioneer” rose to No. 9 on the U.S. Country charts and remained Van Dyke’s only recording for nearly five years. After his military service ended, Van Dyke returned to agriculture journalism and worked for newspapers in the Midwest. But he didn’t forget his fledgling music career. He appeared on the television show “Ozark Jubilee” on a regular basis and performed on Chicago’s WGN radio. In 1961, Van Dyke headed for Nashville, where he signed with Mercury Records. “Walk on By” One of Van Dyke’s first releases with Mercury Records was the title song of his first-ever album, “Walk on By.” The song, with lyrics lending itself to one of country music’s early “cheating” songs, shot to No. 1 on the charts and stayed there for an astounding 19 weeks. After that, it remained at various levels on the charts for nearly an entire year. “Walk on By” surpassed “The Auctioneer” as Leroy Van Dyke’s signature song, selling 1.5 million copies and even hitting No. 5 on the pop charts. The song had lasting appeal and was played on country radio for decades to come. In fact, in 1994, Billboard Magazine ranked “Walk on By” as the biggest song in country music history based on chart performance and sales. Think about it. A relative unknown outside of country music beat out the multitude of recordings from the likes of Hank Williams, Patsy Cline and Ray Price for the most popular country song of all time. The song also garnered a Grammy for Van Dyke and led to his invitation to perform on the Grand Ole Opry a year later. Eight decades in the business The rest of Leroy Van Dyke’s performing career has been long — but largely forgettable Other than a follow up hit to “Walk on By,” Van Dyke never again appeared in the Top 10, languishing in the depths of the charts with most of his releases. Many of his singles were covers of those of other artists. However, he did have a final minor hit in 1977 with “Texas Tea.” Despite his limited success, Van Dyke made a career of the few hits he recorded. He never again opened for the likes of Marilyn Monroe. However, he appeared at countless fairs, festivals, auctions, rodeos and conventions. He also became a minor draw in Branson, Missouri, where country music fans flock to hear artists whose songs no longer appear on the charts. Today, at the age of 95, he still performs on occasion. There’s no word if he ever flexes his vocal cords to call an auction. Nearly 70 years after its release, “The Auctioneer” still receives occasional airplay. While some may consider it a novelty song, it has outlasted many other hits of its age. Whether “The Auctioneer” or “Walk on By” holds sway as Van Dyke’s signature song is up to the listener. “Walk on By” has been covered by numerous other artists over the decades, but with “The Auctioneer,” Van Dyke virtually remains in a class of his own. Until next time, auctioneering isn’t as popular as it once was in the U.S., so if you aspire to cry out, “I just sold that pig for a 50-dollar bill!” I suggest you don’t quit your day job. To read more of Kris Rutherford’s Rhythm of the Road content, click here.

I love Reba McEntire. As far as I’m concerned, she bests Patsy Cline as the greatest female country artist of all time. “When Whoever in New England’s Through with You” and “The Greatest Man I Never Knew” are just a couple of my favorites. I even like her television shows. I haven’t read her books, but I have little doubt I’d like them, too. But there’s one Reba song that sometimes rubs me the wrong way — “Fancy.” Now before you offer up those chastising emails, please hear me out. I realize that “Fancy” is Reba’s signature song. It’s the one she sings at the inevitable curtain calls when she plays in concert, and she admits it’s her favorite song she’s ever recorded. “Fancy” is a rags-to-riches story, she’s shared, and she loves the story it represents. That’s where we part ways, if only for a moment. Every time I hear “Fancy,” I have to ask myself: Does this song glorify prostitution? I’m not alone in that thought. The song is noted on most lists of the “most controversial country songs ever recorded,” and for good reason. Of course, “Fancy” also sits high on the list of the most popular country recordings. To be clear, Reba did not write “Fancy,” nor was she the first to record it. Both of those credits go to Bobby Gentry of “Billy Joe McCallister” fame. Gentry released the song in 1970, and it made it to No. 26 on the charts. Gentry has said she looks at “Fancy” as a feminist statement. “‘Fancy’ is my strongest statement for women’s lib, if you really listen to it,” Gentry says. “I agree wholeheartedly with that movement and all the serious issues that they stand for — equality, equal pay, day care centers and abortion rights.” If that’s what Gentry claims about “Fancy,” we can only assume it to be true. She did, after all, write the song. But it’s the first time I’ve heard an argument that feminism equates with prostitution. That’s quite a leap of logic. The “Fancy” story If you’re not familiar with the story of “Fancy,” it is truly a rags-to-riches tale, as Reba says. However, I believe the song shouldn’t be confused with the extended music video that accompanied its release. The music video tells us how to interpret “Fancy” — and that’s one of my pet peeves about country music and videos in general. Music is an auditory experience. Let’s leave a little bit to the imagination. Then again, if ever a song and its accompanying video were hard to separate, “Fancy” fits the bill. Fancy, the name of the song’s main character, lives with her mother and baby sister in a “run down shack on the outskirts of New Orleans.” This brief description of poverty sets the stage for the song’s storyline: Fancy’s mother has a plan to help her daughter escape a life without a foreseeable positive future. The song’s lyrics refer to the family as “poor white trash.” I don’t like the phrase, but it may be fitting (at least that’s what the video leads us to believe). In brief, the plan is for Fancy to escape poverty by embarking on a life as a prostitute. We can’t be sure the mother actually sells Fancy into prostitution — but if we follow the video’s images, there’s a strong reason to believe it to be the case. Fancy is picked up by what appears to be a wealthy man in an expensive black car. That darkness implies that some sort of “sale” — or at least an “arrangement” — was involved, and that the man in the car is up to no good. Again, such a conclusion requires that we see the video and lyrics as one. As noted, I don’t like to look at music that way. As the song tells us, especially in the extended version that doesn’t often receive radio play, Fancy DOES become a prostitute (although the word is never mentioned). It’s noted that a benevolent man took her off the streets, a place prostitutes often live. And Fancy “charmed” a “king, a congressman, and an occasional aristocrat.” I don’t think we need to interpret much to know the type of “charming” to which the lyrics refer. In the end, Fancy’s escape from poverty somehow leads her to a luxurious lifestyle (not to mention the acquisition of a sizeable sum of money). If we go back to the video, Fancy managed to parlay her stint as a prostitute into stardom as both a singer and actress. The “Fancy” message Here’s my beef. I worked for an anti-sex trafficking organization for a few years, and I’m familiar with TAT, or Truckers Against Trafficking. I learned a few things along the way. For one thing, few prostitutes willingly enter the trade. it’s not something girls aspire to do when they grow up. Most states have laws noting that a minor cannot be charged as a prostitute. Why? Because there is always an adult — let’s call a spade a spade and just say it, a pimp —behind teen prostitution. And in most cases, even when reaching the age of majority, a sex-trafficked woman is often controlled by the same pimp. The lyrics to “Fancy” reinforce this, stating, “for me there was no way out.” Of course, listeners learn that, for Fancy at least, there WAS a way out, and it led to an enchanted lifestyle. This is where we get down to the question at hand: Does “Fancy” glorify prostitution? Even more sinister, if it does, does it also glorify sex-trafficking? Now, I’m not going to suggest that Reba’s signature song has inspired some wayward girls to enter prostitution as a profession. If nothing else, it may have inspired them to escape the sex trade. But the question remains. Should a song that, in conjunction with its video, alludes to prostitution as a means of escape from poverty be held in such high regard? Despite my misgivings, my answer is “yes.” I believe “Fancy” takes a headlong look into the issues of life in the United States, particularly in the South. That, after all, is what country music is all about. Until next time, support TAT. You can make a difference.

“If it sounds country, that’s what it is. It’s a country song.” Truer words than Kris Kristofferson’s introduction to his recording of “Me and Bobby McGee” may never have been spoken. But to truly SOUND country, a song must take full advantage of the songwriter’s experiences. After all experiences are what country music is all about. Kristofferson, who died Sept. 28, 2024, at age 88, had as many experiences as anyone in the business. Kris Kristofferson’s resume is impressive — and not just for his musical experience. In addition to numerous accomplishments in music and show business, Kristofferson could boast of being the following: An English major with award-winning essays; A college athlete; A Rhodes Scholar; An attendee of Oxford University; A U.S. Army Ranger, captain, and helicopter pilot; and A part-time dredger. Even with all that, when he got out of the Army and looked toward a career as a songwriter, the best job he could find was sweeping floors in a Nashville studio. He made ends meet by flying helicopters off oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico while trying to get some of his songs into the hands of a performing star. His early efforts at songwriting were memorable, but none met with commercial success. Artists like Billy Walker, Faron Young and Roger Miller all recorded songs penned by Kristofferson. But even Miller, who recorded “Sunday Morning Coming Down,” didn’t exactly have a hit with the song. Fortunately, a few years later, Kristofferson hooked Johnny Cash up the same song. Cash’s first performance of “Sunday Morning” on live television became a legendary moment in country music history. Ironically, perhaps Kris Kristofferson’s most popular and most-often-covered song, “Me and Bobby McGee,” became a mega-hit … but Janis Joplin, the rocker who brought it to No. 1 status, was far from a country musician. Others had great success with the song as well, including Roger Miller, Jerry Lee Lewis, Kenny Rogers, and even the Statler Brothers. Moreover, the song officially marked Kristofferson’s acceptance as a songwriter, and more of his music began to be recorded by country’s biggest stars. Stepping behind the microphone himself, Kristofferson also gained success as a performer with the hit song “The Silver-Tongued Devil and I” and “Loving Her was Easier than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again.” In 1971, he had an impressive showing at the Grammy Awards as many of his songs took home top honors while others were nominated in various categories. Hits like “Help Me Make it through the Night” and “For the Good Times” followed. Again, both songs were covered by numerous artists, reaching hit status for several of them. By the mid ’70s, as if being a Grammy award-winning songwriter wasn’t enough of a feather in the Kristofferson’s hat, he began to make inroads in Hollywood. In the coming years, he starred in numerous movies alongside the likes of Gene Hackman and Burt Reynolds. Perhaps his most notable role was opposite Barbara Streisand in “A Star Is Born.” In 1978, Kristofferson starred in “Convoy,” a film-based take on C.W. McCall’s hit song of a few years earlier. He played the lead role in the movie — Martin “Rubber Duck” Penwold. While the film was not as successful as “White Line Fever” or “Smokey and the Bandit,” two other trucking-based movies of the day, it did pull in $45 million at the box office. Kristofferson’s acting career didn’t slow down in the ’80s, and he starred in several more films alongside co-stars like Steven Segal, Johnny Cash and Jane Fonda. While it seemed Kristofferson succeeded in every form of entertainment at which he tried his hand, perhaps his most notable accomplishment came in 1985 when he teamed up with his long-time friends and mentors Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash to form the country group The Highwaymen. The four superstars won song of the year with “Highwayman,” and they recorded several others over the ensuing years. But it was the live performances that brought the group some of its greatest fame. Arguably, never in the history of country music had a more star-studded lineup of musicians been on stage at the same time than in a performance of “The Highwaymen.” Kristofferson, Nelson, Jennings and Cash made three-hour performances out of singing their own songs and each other’s. Many of those, including “Help Me Make it through the Night,” “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain,” “Luckenbach, Texas,” and “There Ain’t No Good in an Evil Hearted Woman” were megahits long before the foursome teamed up. As the ’90s passed, Kristofferson’s commercial success slowly began to wane. He remained popular on-stage as one of The Highwaymen, but his songwriting slowed. He continued to take on acting parts but none of the films met with much success. But while he may have lost a step as an entertainer, it was time for Kristofferson to reap the rewards of a career well-spent. Already inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame, he received his induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2004. He followed this with other awards, including the Johnny Cash Visionary Award, the Johnny Mercer Award and even more Grammy nominations. He continued to produce music throughout the period, and although it met with critical success, it did not perform well commercially. Finally, in January 2021, Kristofferson announced his retirement. Long after Kristofferson’s death, his legacy will live on. His achievements before he ever even became involved in entertainment are legendary — and those beginning in the late ’60s, when he first entered the music business, are stellar. There has never been an entertainer like Kris Kristofferson, and country music will be hard-pressed to ever find another of his caliber. But don’t worry, music fans: Rest assured that artists will be covering Kristofferson’s music for decades to come … and no doubt, some of those old songs will reach the top of the charts once again. Until next time, keep that Country Gold playing on the satellite radio. The greats are dying off too fast to forget them. Photo courtesy of Kris Kristofferson’s official Facebook page

It’s generally accepted that Bob Wills, along with his Texas Playboys, remains the “King of Western Swing.” But in the 1940s and early 1950s, a competition was afoot. While Wills held firm control of Western Swing bragging rights in Texas, on the West Coast, another musician — “Spade” Cooley — busily fought Bob Wills for the top spot. Cooley was indeed a fine musician, band leader and part-time silver screen star. He even had some accomplishments to back up his claim to being Hollywood’s “King of Western Swing.” But in spite of any acclaims Cooley received as an entertainer, his legacy is that of a vile human being. Donnell Clyde Cooley was born in 1910 in Grand, Oklahoma, a community that today is a ghost town a few miles east of the Texas Panhandle. Because he was one-quarter Cherokee, Cooley attended what was then known as an “Indian School” in Oregon. It was there he perfected the art of playing the fiddle — something his father had introduced him to back on the pre-depression Oklahoma farm. In fact, Cooley had his eyes set on becoming not just a fiddler but a violin virtuoso. However, he was held back from this goal by lack of access to a formal music education and violin-specific lessons. But he “made do” as what musicians might consider a second-rate violinist — a fiddler with flexibility to play varied forms of music. When he was 17, Cooley returned to Oklahoma and married his first wife. The entire family moved to the West Coast during the Dust Bowl years, however, and Cooley’s set out to forge his path. Unlike the rest of his family, he would not be a migrant farm laborer. His future was in music. Soon after arriving in California, Cooley earned the nickname “Spade” after a particularly successful run at the poker table. To hear Cooley tell the story, he drew three consecutive full houses of spades — but that claim is highly questionable. The odds of drawing a full house of spades just once are only 1 in 13,000. One can only imagine the odds of doing it three consecutive times! Regardless, the nickname stuck. It may have been an early indicator of Cooley’s shady character. While his family worked in the fields, Cooley took a job playing the fiddle in the Venice Pier Ballroom, a venue that drew thousands of dancers on weekend nights throughout the year. As lead fiddler in Jimmy Wakely’s Big Band, Cooley gained a lot of exposure. Then, when Wakely quit the band for a career as an actor, Cooley took over as bandleader. The following 18 months brought the Venice Pier Ballroom some of its biggest fame as Cooley took Bob Wills head-on in the fight for “King of Western Swing.” As part of his battle to be king, Cooley hired Tex Williams, a deep baritone, as his lead vocalist. Williams’ counterpart in Bob Wills’ Texas Playboys was the famed Tommy Duncan. As far as Cooley was concerned, the fight for supremacy was on. In 1944, Cooley recorded his first successful record, “Shame on You,” which perhaps offered a hint of what was to come as he embarked upon a womanizing, heavy-drinking lifestyle. The song sat at No. 1 for a full two months and was one of six consecutive Top 10 tunes he recorded. Perhaps Cooley’s most notable tune was “Detour (there’s a muddy road ahead),” a song that today still receives occasional airplay on online country music platforms. During this period, he married his second wife, Ella Mae Evans, a singer in his band. Despite Cooley’s immense success as a bandleader, his eye was on the silver screen. One afternoon, he was hanging around Gene Autry’s set, and Autry almost mistook Cooley for Roy Rogers. Autrey introduced the two, and Rogers hired Cooley to be his stand-in and stunt double. Cooley went on to appear in 38 western films. But Rogers recognized Cooley for his fiddle-playing even more than his acting. Cooley soon became lead fiddler in Roy Rogers band, “Riders of the Purple Sage.” The gig enabled Cooley to appear in even more western films during the 1940s. By 1948, Spade Cooley, a good-looking, well-spoken performer, attracted the attention of television producers. Soon he had his own variety show, aptly named “The Spade Cooley Show.” The show was a huge success on the West Coast and soon went national. It lasted until 1956 when executives cancelled it because of changing viewer patterns. Nonetheless, the television show, along with his other accomplishments in California’s entertainment scene, gained Cooley his own star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame. The concrete was poured in early 1960. If the Walk of Fame’s governing body had known what was to come, perhaps it wouldn’t have been so hasty to immortalize Spade Cooley’s name. By all visible accounts, Cooley’s second marriage was no different than any in Hollywood — high profile and followed by the media. The undertones of what went on in the Cooley household didn’t make the media; however, it was well-known that the marriage was not as smooth as it seemed. Cooley accused his wife of having an affair with Roy Rogers, something she later admitted to, either because it was fact or to merely suit the views of her increasingly drunken husband. In turn, she accused Cooley of being the womanizer he was already well known to be. She claimed he impregnated 10 women (none of them her) in a single year. The claims against his character didn’t set well with Cooley, but no one imagined how violent a man he had become. On April 3, 1961, Cooley and his wife had an argument at their home outside Los Angeles. Apparently wildly drunk and overcome with jealousy (Ella Mae had filed for divorce just days earlier), Cooley became increasingly violent. The ensuing fight is well-documented elsewhere, and there is no need to go into the details here. Quite simply, Spade Cooley beat his wife to death in front of their 14-year-old daughter. Cooley was soon arrested. He claimed innocence by reason of insanity. In a high-profile trial during which Cooley’s daughter testified against him, the state forced him to drop his insanity plea. He was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. However, the judge ruled that Cooley was not a candidate to be imprisoned at one of California’s famed prison farms like Folsom or San Quentin, instead sentencing him to a state hospital. There, Cooley had an easy sentence. As a celebrity, he was welcomed by both the staff and inmates, and he regularly entertained and taught music classes. He served nine years of his sentence before being paroled effective February of 1970. It’s believed that actor-turned-California-governor Ronald Reagan was instrumental in granting Cooley his freedom. On November 23, 1969, shortly before his scheduled release, Cooley was granted permission to play a benefit concert in California’s Alameda County. He wowed the crowd — until the first intermission, when he went backstage to sign autographs and get ready for his second appearance. During that fateful intermission, he dropped dead of a massive heart attack. Many thought it was fitting for a man who had served so little time for such a heinous crime. In the years since, when one talks about the “King of Western Swing,” Spade Cooley hardly receives a mention. It is Bob Wills who ultimately claimed the title. Until next time, watch out for those detours, and let this story be a cautionary tale. Even a muddy road through crop fields might be better than what that deceptively glamorous route offers. Photo courtesy of the Oklahoma Historical Society