Willie Nelson and Ole Whatsisname

Willie Nelson has a new album but no place to play the songs live. The man who has given us many memorable 4th of July Picnics has been driven to ground in the ethereal livestream airwaves by our resident pandemic.

Anybody who has ever spent a 4th of July with Willie is saddened for those who can’t experience him for the first time this year. If you calculate that ole Willie is about 87 years old and prime Covid 19 bait, we can’t afford to miss too many more.

If a policeman ever asks me where I was on the July 4th, 1975, I can reply honestly I was with Willie. There are about 70,000 others who can provide alibis for me who could have seen me there. I’m not sure Willie himself remembers as I was only able to get within about 20 yards of the stage to catch a glimpse of him.

Of course, my memory is not so good anymore either. I was thinking the picnic I went to was in Dripping Springs, but that was the site of the first one in 1972. In researching Google, because I don’t trust my memory, it seems mine was in Liberty Hill, Tx. Oh yeah! I remember my roommate and co-worker, Steve Cook from Tyler, Tx. went with me, but there is a mysterious third musketeer whose identity hasn’t popped in my head yet.

Steve and I were going to summer school at Texas Tech and working in a sporting goods store. We made our plans and departed from Lubbock store around 10 p.m. to drive to Liberty Hill down near Austin. That’s about 350 miles, piece of cake for Red Raider boys. Lubbock is 350 miles from anywhere else in Texas worth going.

We were provisioned with three cases of beer, one for us and two to sell to pay for the trip. Coors was gold in those days in South Texas because Lubbock was the only city where you could get the nectar of the Golden, Co brewing gods. We didn’t take any water, never considered it. We didn’t know you’re supposed to have eight glasses of water per day. Probably more if you are planning on sitting out in a central Texas hayfield all day in July.

We hit Liberty Hill about 4 a.m. and ran right into the back of a long line of cars that stretched in the darkness farther than the eye could see. Liberty Hill wasn’t much of a town, but we saw all the sights as the caravan inched us through to the parking area. We had to park about three miles from the entrance, which presented a logistics problem with the beer.

I know there were three of us because we alternated, two carrying the Coors and one resting on the three-mile walk. I have to apologize to whoever our player to be named later was, but he held up his end in the rotation. I would remember him fondly if I could only remember him.

We had arrived! We staked out our little plot of semi-mown Johnson grass about 200 yards from the stage. The scene was like something from one of those Civil War movies, a panorama of the sights and sounds of Willie Worshippers in all directions. Nobody was bleeding yet as far as we could tell, but there was always potential.

The show hadn’t started, so we determined to explore in rotation also. Two could wander and one stayed with the beer. The wandering was fruitful from an experiential standpoint. There were a lot of cowboys and hippies peacefully comingling cultures. Then there were the girls, a majority who had chosen their bikini as the dress of the day for a Texas hayfield.

The girls were more prepared than the guys as there was the South Fork of the San Gabriel River that bordered the concert area. The river was a popular spot for anyone trying to beat the heat, which was about all 70,000 of the paid attendees and most of those who had sneaked in by parachute or swam up the river. A lot of the guys had to resort to skinny dipping in broad daylight while the girls in bikinis were in their element.

The talent at the show reflected Willie’s own eclectic tastes. You had Alex Harvey of “Delta Dawn” fame and Delbert McClinton, the Ft. Worth white bluesman sharing stage with David Alan Coe, the Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy.

Kris Kristofferson was well represented by himself and his then wife, Rita Coolidge, plus two members of his band, Billy Swan and Funky Donnie Fritts. There were some of the old timers from Willie’s coming up days, Floyd Tillman and Johnny Bush. The Charlie Daniels Band and the Pointer Sisters were the last acts to go on before Willie. I wonder if that day gave Charlie his idea for the Volunteer Jam.

You could hear the music all over the hayfield, so there was no reason to rush the stage. When it came time for Willie I tried to angle and slither my way up close to see the great man. I got within about 20 yards, close enough to identify him in a lineup though I had a better view of Micky Raphael, his harmonica player. My progress was stopped by an immovable object in an engineer’s hat who dominates the photo below from that day.

Our lack of provisions caught up with us in the afternoon as the thermometer approached 100 degrees. We were able to sell the two cases of Coors for a nice profit, which was quickly eaten up by our thirst for some quenching Coors was not providing. We used all our profit to buy water from other people and at one point I paid $3 for a slice of watermelon because it had moisture. That would be about $15 in today’s dollars.

Finally, it was time for Willie to sing “Turn Out the Light, The Party’s Over”. The picnic had come to an end.

The main thing I remember about the 1975 picnic was the sensory overload of wandering about and people watching. There was just so much and so many to see. This too came with a price I hadn’t calculated. I had not worn my good boots, but rather a worn-down pair my brother had given me. By the end of the day, I had blisters from all the walking, so the last three miles back to the car were excruciating. At least we didn’t have any beer to carry.

The three of us, Steve, myself and ole Whatsisname, got in the car and on the road, exhausted with 350 miles back to Lubbock. I think back now and that day is something of a strange mixture of endurance of stamina and heat and a blur of people and a major event going by.

Sort of like the years of one’s life. One day you look up and you can’t remember someone who you spent some significant time with nearly 50 years ago. Maybe he will read this blog and raise his hand and I’ll be able to say, “Oh, yeah! It was you! What a great time we had at Willie Nelson’s picnic”

I hope so.