I went to see The Outlaws in September of 1978 at the Lenox Music Inn, which is actually in Stockbridge, Ma. I drove down from North Adams with a high school buddy named Pete Fields. I have no idea what happened to Pete. I haven’t seen him since I got out of the Army in 1983 and made a “nostalgia run” to North Adams, MA from Clinton, TN.
Green Grass and High Tides
The Lenox Music Inn is, or at least was at that time, an outdoor venue. I haven’t been there in over 40 years. I remember it as being essentially a huge field with a stage set in a corner. We drove down there in the old International Harvester Scout II I’d learned to drive on. This particular Scout was a two-wheel-drive model. This has a bearing on this story, so keep reading. I recall it being a trip of a couple of hours or so.
There Goes Another Love Song
Pete and I got there and found ourselves in line to park. We followed the instructions of the parking attendants and parked where directed. This was also in a field. Then we made our way to where the stage was set up and waited for the concert to begin.
During the concert, it started to pour … and I do mean, pour. The stage had a canopy over it, but it did not seem to be helping that much. Hughie Thomasson came to the microphone and said, “Well, shit! So, we can go home or throw some tarps over the amps and keep on playing.
The crowd roared, “Play!!”
Hughie Thomasson said something, like … “Well, all right!!”
They threw some tarps over the amps … and The Outlaws played on. Everyone got soaked. People were huddled under whatever they could find. Some folk had the foresight to bring rain gear. Many, including Pete and I, had not. But, we were having a blast anyway and enjoying the concert. The music was great. We thought it was really cool at the time.
After the concert, we got ready to leave. The entire parking lot was a mud hole! Everyone, and I mean, everyone was stuck in the mud. Some enterprising young man with a four-wheel-drive Jeep was dragging people out to the paved road for $50 a pop. Pete and I did not have $50 between us. So, I locked up the Scout, and we hitch-hiked back to North Adams.
It was probably kind of small of me, but as Pete and I left, I noticed the kid with the Jeep had blown his engine up towing so many people out of the mud. There was smoke boiling out from under the hood. I must admit I grinned a bit at that. Served the SOB right for taking advantage of everyone! $50 buck was a lot of money for a tow back then, especially a few hundred feet. Anyway, I am sure he made enough to get the Jeep’s engine rebuilt.
(Ghost) Riders in the Sky
I don’t remember what time we got back to North Adams. Parents were upset. My dad was angry because we’d left the Scout in Lenox (well … Stockbridge), and we had to go down and get it the next day. When we got there, someone had broken out a window and stolen the $20 Krako 8-Track player Id mounted under the dash. Other than that, all was well. It had dried enough that we were able to get the Scout out of the field and onto the paved road, and I followed my dad home.
Once An Outlaw
The Outlaws are an American southern rock band best known for their 1975 hit “There Goes Another Love Song” and the extended guitar jam “Green Grass and High Tides” from their 1975 debut album. They are also well remembered for their 1980 cover of the Stan Jones classic “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky”.
While The Outlaws are generally considered Southern rock, there are distinct differences in their approach and influences. The Outlaw’s primary similarity to other Southern rock bands is the dual lead guitar interplay, a defining characteristic of many Southern rock bands. However, the Outlaws’ mix of country and rock elements displays the vocal harmony influences of groups like Buffalo Springfield, New Riders of the Purple Sage, and The Eagles. Their use of three and four-part harmonies set them apart from their Southern Rock contemporaries, which usually relied on a single lead vocalist.
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My favorite Christmas memories are from growing up in North Adams, Massachusetts. A blanket of snow would typically cover everything, the Christmas lights twinkled and glowed everywhere, and as you walked up and down Main Street, classic Christmas carols were being played in all the stores and piped out into the streets. It was breathtaking, especially at night.
Then came the magic of Christmas Eve. As a family, we would walk to St. John’s Episcopal Church (now All Saints) for the midnight mass. It was cold; the air was crisp. Clean white snow covered everything, and the streetlights cast their light on the snowflakes that were often still falling. For a young boy, it was beautiful and truly magical and so, so special.
Anyone who reads my Tunes for Tuesday posts knows I enjoy a wide variety of music. But the Christmas music of yesteryear will forever hold a special place in my memories and my heart. So, take a few quiet minutes and join me as I take a little stroll down Christmas music memory lane …
Timeless Christmas Music Classics
White Christmas, Bing Crosby (1947)
The Christmas Song, Nat King Cole (Live Performance)
Merry Christmas Baby, B.B. King
O Little Town Of Bethlehem, Nat King Cole
O Holy Night, Andy Williams
Then every once and a while, you stumble on something new that gives you renewed hope for the future.
Over A Thousand People Came Together To Break a Record And Bring This Moving Christmas Hymn To Life.
The Piano Guys, Peter Hollens, David Archuleta, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir get together to sing “Angels We Have Heard On High.”
Wishing all of you a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
This morning I had the opportunity to visit a traditional Uechi-Ryu dojo in Knoxville run by Sensei Bob Noel. I was invited by a former student who, since I moved to Raleigh, NC, started training with him. Lucas and I had discussed this over the years I was away, and Lucas had mentioned that he felt comfortable with Sensei Noel because of how he taught and that the things he had learned from me about body mechanics and technique allowed him to understand what kind of an instructor Sensei Noel is. And I will say that Lucas chose well.
I have often stated that Okinawan systems of karate have more in common than they do have differences. Of course, the early karate pioneers on Okinawa had “favorite” techniques and preferred training methods that created differences. However, you must remember that Okinawa is a tiny island and many of the early masters knew and, at times, trained together. In fact, Kanbun Uechi (the founder of Uechi-Ryu) and Tatsuo Shimabuku (the founder of Isshin-Ryu) were good friends and often trained together. Add to that the fact that good technique is determined more by body mechanics than anything else, and you should be able to see the logic in my statement
Adding to the visit’s pleasure was that I learned that Sensei Noel grew up in Williamstown, MA, which borders North Adams, MA. I studied Uechi-Ryu for a brief time while still in high school in North Adams with an instructor who was one of Sensei Frank Gorman’s students. It bothers me that I can’t remember my instructor’s name. I only remember that he also played guitar in a local band called Steele. But it turns out that Sensei Noel trained with Sensei Gorman at Williams College while we worked there.
Then I discovered that Sensei Noel was in Boy Scout Troop 70 in Williamstown. I had a good friend, Camden Pierce, for many years who was in Troop 70. Don Gilbert (no relation) was the scoutmaster of Troop 70 at that time. I was in Troop 88 in North Adams, and Douglas Filkens was our scoutmaster. Camden and I did a lot of backpacking and canoeing together over the years. And we had an annual New Year’s Eve campout on the top of Mt. Greylock, which is the tallest mountain in Massachusetts. It was cold, and the snow might be up to your armpits, but it was a blast. I guess we did that three or four year in a row.
Sensei Noel has an efficient and straightforward approach to how he teaches and a deep understanding of his art. Lucas did a great job of choosing him as an instructor.
It really is a small, small world when you are dealing with those who practice traditional Okinawan karate.
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I have had a long-held interest in the martial arts. One Christmas, I received a book called Best Karate, written by Mas Oyama, when I was 13 or 14 years old. I spent hours in my bedroom trying to learn from the book.
When I began attending the Charles H McCann Technical School in North Adams, Massachusetts, I was invited by a friend to a Uechi-ryu Karate (a very traditional Okinawan system) class in nearby Adams and started attending. But once I discovered cars and girls, that pretty much ended that … as well as my interest in scouting.
When I was stationed in Korea (12/81 to 12/82), I studied Tae Kwon Do with the battalion instructor. He was excellent. I earned a red belt, which, in that system, was the equivalent of a brown belt in the ranking system used by many styles. When I got back to the U.S., I started competing in tournaments and did okay. However, I discovered these Isshin-ryu guys who had a wicked reverse punch. They would slide up your extended kicking leg and nail you with it. I decided I needed to see what they were doing and so sought out an Isshin-ryu dojo.
Years later, I was running my own dojo and hosting tournaments. But I was very disappointed in the way things were evolving. I was never that wild about sport karate. I just did that to keep students. I saw limited techniques being used in sport karate; it was more like a game of tag. The rules seemed to violate the karate “maxims” I was trying to adhere to.
For example, in Okinawan Karate, all kicks are targeted below the waist. Step into the ring, and now all kicks must be above the waist. That seemed odd!
And kata, especially with the advent of musical kata, quickly devolved into breakdancing with some kicks thrown in.
Note: Let me just say that full-contact karate and MMA fighters of today are great athletes and some damn tough individuals. They are very good at what they do and deserve respect. It is just not “karate” as I had come to understand it.
The problem was that I do read a great deal, and I had read a lot of history about Okinawa, the birthplace of Karate, and the early pioneers of Tang Hand, which later become known as Empty Hand … or Karate. I was simply not seeing the Karate I’d read so much about. Either the stories were all lies, or there was nobody around who could do that stuff anymore. I was actually ready to throw in the towel. Then I met Sensei Sherman Harrill.
Sensei Harrill was from a cross-roads in the cornfields called Carson, Iowa (near Council Bluffs). He was an ex-Marine who trained with the Isshin-ryu system’s founder, Tatsuo Shimabuku, while stationed in Okinawa in the late 50s. And he was the real deal.
Everything I had ever seen paled when stacked up against what he did. No matter who you were, how big, how strong, or what you knew … he would effortlessly show you the error of your ways. Organizations, rank, who you knew did not matter. It was what you could demonstrate on the mat that counted.
So, I started over. I traveled all around the country to seminars for years to train with this guy. It was a humbling and memorable moment when I asked him how I could become his student. He laughed and replied. “well, most folks just ask.” So, I asked. And he replied, “Darren, I have seen the changes you are making in your Karate and how you train … so welcome aboard.”
That was the beginning of the journey of a lifetime.
The origins of JD’s Nguyen-ryu
Nguyen-ryu is an indigenous martial art found in Vietnam. Mai’s father, Ang, was a village elder, and in the book Serpents Underfoot, a well-respected practitioner of this art. Ang taught this art to both his daughter, Mai, and the son of his old Montagnard friend, Dish. Dish and Mai both taught the art to Curtis Cordell, Mai’s American husband, and JD’s father.
Curtis tried to teach Nguyen-ryu to his son, but that old father-son thing interfered. Eventually, Curtis took his son to a dojo run by a friend of his. That Sensei taught a very traditional version of Isshin-ryu. JD did learn a great deal of Nguyen-ryu from his mother, which blended well with the Isshin-ryu.
It has been my experience that most “real” martial arts have more in common than differences. That is because when you get past all the marketing hype, it is body mechanics that determine what works … and the human body only moves powerfully so many ways.
My exposure to Nguyen-ryu
Enter Charlie Taylor, a good friend, a Vietnam veteran, and a damn good martial artist. He just showed up at my dojo one day and started helping out.
Charlie had served several tours in Vietnam as a medic on Long Range Reconnaissance Patrols in the region of Vietnam my books focus on. He was a quiet guy, but when the mood struck, he had some fantastic stories to tell about his experiences in Vietnam. I am sure he embellished them a bit to make them more fun to listen too, but there was something in the stories and his eyes when he told them that led you to understand that there was an element of truth to each one.
Charlie was also a highly-skilled martial artist, and there was nothing “superfluous” in what he did. I remember spending time training what was essentially a “silent sentry removal” technique with him and being shocked and a bit disturbed at the ease with which it worked. I still remember asking him, rhetorically,
“And, you’ve used this before.”
He just looked at me kind of funny and replied, “On a few occasions.”
While he knew a few of the kata, Charlie didn’t practice Isshin -ryu. In fact, many of our workouts consisted of me teaching him more Isshin-ryu kata. He practiced what he called Nguyen-ryu. Charlie claimed he’d learned it from his grandfather, who’d married a Vietnamese girl while stationed in Japan after WWII. This girl’s father was a skilled practitioner of the style, and after a suitable period of denials, consented to teach it to his daughter’s round-eyed husband.
I know it sounds like a movie plot. And maybe it is. I can neither prove nor disprove Charlie’s claims. However, I can definitely vouch for his abilities. Charlie could be damn scary when he was “in the zone,” much like my former instructor, Sensei Harrill. Those who have trained with Sensei Harrill will understand what I am referring to. We called it “shark eyes.”
Charlie did have an honorary 5th-degree black belt in Isshin-ryu Karate signed by Harold Long. However, he always claimed it was not worth the paper it was written on. It seems Charlie had impressed Harold Long with his abilities while training for a period at Long’s school in Knoxville, Tennessee, but, as mentioned earlier, had only learned a few of the kata. He held no official rank in Nguyen-ryu, so he always wore a white belt.
I will say that the kid’s classes loved it when Charlie regaled them with stories of his early training days. He always referred to them as “Papaw Days.”
Unfortunately, Charlie passed away a few years ago from a combination of medical conditions, several of which I am sure originated with his tours of duty in Vietnam. Some of the threads in Serpents Underfoot and Montagnard are based on past discussions with Charlie. And I think Charlie may be resurrected from the dead for a character in the next book in the series titled Reciprocity. I think he would like that.
Martial Arts scenes in the two books …
I have seen a large man knocked unconscious with a punch to the shoulder. I do not know too many people who could do that. Sensei Harrill certainly could. And, his “fence post punch” was something to behold. You did not want to get hit with it.
On more than one occasion, MMA fighters or cage fighters from the casinos in Council Bluff would make their way to his dojo after hearing about this karate guy who had a reputation for being a badass. Every one of them left with a new appreciation for karate … well, at least Sherman Harrill’s version.
The technique JD uses to take out the drug smuggler on the trail from Laos into Vietnam is simply one of my variations on Charlie Taylor’s sentry removal technique.
Putting it all together
I like to think my stories are written to entertain, but there is so much more to them, at least for me. They are ways to remember, record, and share the people I have known, places I have been, things I have seen, and the stories I have heard, as well as the possibilities those things can combine to create.
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