“I may not have had a perfect voice, but I had something to say, and people listened.”
- Buck Owens
Today is Mark Knopfler's birthday (1949). He being my favorite guitar player, I've yapped on about him quite frequently. Cheers to you Mark. Boy, the memories you've given me.
Today was also the birthday of Buck Owens (1929). Most people only know of him, if they do at all, from the TV show Hee Haw. He and Roy Clark co-hosted it for the entirety of its thirty-three year run. It was a weekly celebration of all things cornball and down home. Love it or hate it, it was a fixture from 1969-1992. Because of it, Owens was pigeonholed by many as a musical lightweight and country rube. Not the case.
Born in a family of Texas sharecroppers, Alvis Owens got his nickname when he was six-years old. The family owned a mule named Buck and one day Alvis announced that from then on he too would be known a Buck. In 1937, as part of the Dustbowl Migration, the family headed to California but ended up in Arizona due to their broken-down truck. Buck got a mandolin for his birthday when he was 13 and was soon playing in a local honkey-tonk outfit called Mac's Skillet Lickers.
By the 1950s he was married with a couple of children and struggling to keep food on the table. His musical aspirations had fizzled so he bought a one-third share of a radio station in Washington State. To make money he sold advertising for it and spun a few records. “If you had a really good radio, you could pick us up in the station parking lot,” he said years later.
Owens kept working at his songwriting craft and it eventually paid off with hits like “I've Got a Tiger by the Tail” and “Together Again.” The Beatles recorded his “Act Naturally” and Ray Charles made a hit of “Cryin' Time” and Buck was in the big time. Owens created his own style and sound that helped shape the country music of the 1960s. With a rawer, Telecaster-driven vibe, it became known as the Bakersfield sound. You know it when you hear it. It was an alternative to Nashville's slick, string-heavy product of that decade.
By the 1980s, though, Buck's involvement in music began to wane. He'd all but quit recording and touring and mainly pursued various business ventures. But, late in the decade, along came a young neo-traditionalist who had been deeply influenced by Owens. His name was Dwight Yoakam. He coaxed Buck out of retirement, and together they recorded the chart-topper “Streets of Bakersfield.”
In 1996, Owens opened his restaurant, nightclub and museum, The Crystal Palace in Bakersfield. It was where he was often found, performing impromptu gigs regularly with the house band. One Friday night, he declined to set in, explaining that he wasn't feeling well. A group of fans came up to him and introduced themselves and said that they'd driven all the way from Oregon in hopes of seeing him perform that night. Graciously, Buck took the stage and played an hour-long set, telling the audience, “If somebody comes all that way, I'm gonna give it my best shot. I might groan and squeak, but I'll see what I can do.”
Owens went home and died in his sleep later that night. A heart attack claimed him at the age of 76. Rest in peace, Buck.