Oral History Interview with Pee Wee King

I found a picture of Governor Browning in 1963 1:00, the one who made the “Tennessee Waltz" the state song. So he got on stage at the Grand Ole Opry with all these dignitaries. There's Hank Williams and his wife Audrey; Tex Williams and George Morgan and me. Rose, the governor; this guy got me my RCA --he was a distributor -- that's Fred Rose, the publisher. And he recorded it with us, and he was going to give the proceeds to a charitable organization, so I never did inquire how many records he sold — I didn't want to know! Let's say he was not a good singer, but he had a good band back of him — our band backed him. Gov. Browning sang it and recorded it himself. He said,” I'll do this, Pee Wee, and present it to the legislature. “I don't have a copy of him singing it anymore. See, Gov. [Earle] Clements finally made it. But still, I thought that was a good picture -- all those stars.

There's only one guy that ever took his place and that's Garth Brooks now — who took Hank Williams' place in the field. And here’s something' else that we did. I told you about the plane bring forced down — being forced to land in the snow. We went to the Art’s birthday party Saturday — he was 75 years old Saturday. -- and he had about 60 people. And I was amazed — was he was stunned shocked and was [at a] loss for words. And he had a tear. And he had a tear in his voice, too. That was in 1951.

On Dec. 7, 1951, we were going from Burbank, California, to Chicago. We had just finished a network's deal out there and a play date at the Riverside Rancho which is Hollywood's big Western swing ballroom. And very prominent in my mind of some of the things that happened as time went on, Marty Landau was an owner and a fellow booking agent, talent scout and everything, and he promoted a lot of things for me out there in California, including maybe a picture with Johnny Mack Brown. But anyhow, as we were flying, we were supposed to go to Salt Lake City for a friend of ours— Bob York, who was the RCA distributor at that time for the territory from California, all the way to the Mississippi River. And he asked me if I would do a favor — he'd heard from my partner Charlie Adams and Mr. Frank that I was going by way of Salt Lake City to go to Chicago So he said, “Pee Wee, would you do this for me -- we're opening up a distributorship for RCA Victor — a big warehouse type of place, and I'd love to have you and the boys stop for about an hour with us. I'll pay your expenses and what they got to haul your instruments to hall you guys [there] dere and he says, “it'll take about an hour, hour and a half.”

So, I talked with Art and Art says, “yeah, I see nothing wrong with that. Art Greenamyer (??) was a pilot at that time. He was from Louisville, Kentucky. So, we got past Las Vegas the guys were all hollering, “hey, let’s go play a little dice down there — how about some blackjack and 21?” And I says, “I'll 21 all of you guys”. He said, “by God, we're gonna go on. We gotta go to Salt Lake City, we're going to do our job and then take off for Chicago because we got to be there tomorrow afternoon in time to film a television show called "The Old American Barn Dance." “And we were the special guests on it, and our segment was going to be one of the specialties that he wanted to use also.

But anyhow, we got over Las Vegas and headed for Salt Lake, as where we filed our flight plan, but [he laughs], we never got to Salt Lake — there was [were] snow showers between Salt Lake and Provo, Utah, and we were [the] further south we went, the better off we were. But still, there are three mountains that surround Provo, Utah, and they're all above 13,500 and 15,000 feet. And with a private plane and no oxygen, you can't go over 12,500 or 12,700 at the most. Your eyes will bug out like a pinball machine.

So anyhow, be that as it may, Art says, “King, we're going down. And I'm going to go ahead and land. The wings have to be de-iced and it's going to be a forced down. So, all you guys cross your t's and your i's and hope.” So he missed the runway about— I'd say 50 yards at the most — but he landed on the end of the lake that come [came] into the landing. And, as he did, it was perfect 'cause he skidded on the ice, came back and got on the runway and then went through. And there were about — I would say — at least 75 pheasants — and they were flying around, scared to death — what they were doing on a runway I guess was trying to keep warm and everything else and probably found food. But anyhow, he scared those, and boy, I was glad — after we landed I said, “Art, I'm glad them [those] pheasants didn't come into our motor.” He says, “I am, too.” But, we got down there. That was at Provo, Utah.

So, while we were there, we were trying to figure out — Art, Mr. Frank and two of the boys—they were de-icing the wing — I think it's some kind of a liquid — I forgot the name of it now. Anyhow, we spent about an hour, hour and a half or two hours at the most -- all the time we were inside the little airport they had there. [There were] It was emergency calls coming in, and we could here [hear] the guys saying, “well, we can't be bothered with that now because we've got things to do here.” He says, “Pee Wee King's plane has forced landed here and we're trying' to get him going”

So finally, one of the men that worked at the airport, I asked him, “would you tell me what you're talking about?” He says, “oh, you haven't heard the news?” I said, “No.” He says, “well, it seems a very good friend of yours was in trouble, too.” I says, “who's that?” He says, “Fred Waring has got two buses and they were covered by an avalanche that came down,” —the snow just piled up and went over the first bus and practically covered some of the second bus. That was right out of Provo.

Fred Waring was going to Salt Lake City, too. But anyway, they said, “they’re going to send a crew out there from the state department with snow shovels and everything and try to unbury them. In the meantime,” he says, “you try to get out of here”. So, Provo called Salt Lake City, and he said, “Pee Wee King and his plane,” he said, “Pee Wee King and his plane are down — they're [they’ve been] reported missing for three hours.” He said,” they've been here — trying to de-ice their wing!” He says, “well, he's in trouble because AP and UPI Hews picked it up and it's going across de nation.”

So, what happens -- we get loaded up again and head back for Las Vegas, and Art says, “what we'll do is go back to Vegas — we know that's clear,” — but the snow showers and ice were coming down. Between those three large peaks, he had to dodge and every little while, just a heavy deluge of sleet and ice would come down with it, but anyhow, we got down low enough, and we went into Las Vegas. So, when we landed in Vegas, they cleared him on the runway and everything. And first thing the FCC guy come up to 'em and said, “who owns this plane?” He says, “we do.” He says, “I'm the pilot.” He says, “you're the guy I want to talk to.” He said, “do you know you violated all the rules taking off from Provo, Utah coming here to Salt Lake City?” And Art says, “I thought sure that the man at Provo told you we were coming back to Salt Lake City because this was our original stop in Salt Lake City, but we couldn't land, and we didn't want to try to land because we would have crashed — I'm sure of that.”

So, Bob York was worried, too. He called Charlie Adams back in Hollywood from Burbank. I mean, where we started from. And Charlie says, “yeah, I know. My little friend is gone — he crashed in the mountains near Provo, Utah.” That's me — I'm gone! And Bob York says, “no, Charlie, it isn't that way. They found Pee Wee [that] was in Provo, Utah with a force[d] landing — he's coming this way. He's going to bypass Salt Lake City — go right into Las Vegas and then onto Chicago. He's going to file a flight plan when he gets to Vegas.

So, [when] we were in Vegas, I called home. And Lydia says, “where are you? And I said, “I don't know.” I says, “we're here in Las Vegas right now, but we had trouble getting into Salt Lake City — had to cancel that for Bob York and if Bob York calls you, tell him you don't know where I'm at either.” But I says, “Bob York knows where we're at.”

So, the wives started calling Lydia. They had an announcement on WAVE and WHAS. Says our husbands are missing with Pee Wee. She says,” I don't think so — he must be somewhere safe and sound 'cause I haven't heard a thing from him,” [he laughs] — that was a good sign — that was the best thing she could hear! But anyhow, as time wore on, Art says, “I guess we'd better get everybody together and say a silent prayer to thank the Lord that we're going to be able to go on to Chicago.” So, sure enough, we went by Kansas City right into Chicago. And we rented about three taxi cabs to haul our instruments and everything in there. And from there — Chicago — all the boys called their wives to say we were safe and sound.

But Lydia was worried because she had heard the news on the radio — WAVE and WHAS — that the plane was missing. We weren't really scared but we were uneasy about the snow showers, and Art is a great pilot. He was an RFA pilot; he wasn't English, but he had to bring planes back to the United States from England. They bought a whole bunch of planes up there. So, he and his partner Moody Hunter — they just became RFA pilots to come back and forth to the United States. They had a little company at Bowman Field, and we—our group leased the plane from him and his service. And then Redd was co-pilot because Redd took flying lessons — Redd Stewart and Chuck Wiggins. We leased the plane from about 1950 to 1957.

We were hot at that time. We had a good year and kept on piling, piling, piling, and some of the jumps — we couldn’t have never [ever] made them because we'd appear on the Perry Como Show, and then we replace[d] Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca — on their summer hiatus — we were on for 26 weeks on ABC network, television. And from there, we'd have to go to Miami — we had a deal down there — it was just too far. Well, one time we played the Orpheum Theater in Wichita and flew right to New York and appeared on The Kate Smith Show and presented her with a key to the City of Louisville and a flag— a Kentucky Flag and made her an honorary Kentucky Colonel. We couldn't have done all that traveling by car, train, or bus.

But we did travel a lot in the bus that we had at that time. But not as much---we couldn't have made the time that we did. For me, it was quite an experience, and I'm sure for the boys, it was a luxury because those trips get awful long when you're on the road constantly. But we went up to Chicago and the next day we were ready to shoot the television show and then we came back home. And evidently, it was the right thing to do because Gene Stewart — Redd's brother — was a very sick man. And he didn't appear with us on the television show in Chicago because we sent him home by

private plane — by regular plane service from Louisville. And the doctor examined

him and said, “that boy is starving' himself to death. He's dying of malnutrition.”

Well, he had a stomach problem, and we didn't know it. So, they put him in the hospital right away, so everything fell in place like a jig saw puzzle. He got well, though, because they nurtured him back into health, and he was going through a divorce case about that time, too. So, I think that had a lot to do with it.

When we started back from California to Chicago, we were at the Riverside Rancho playing a ballroom up there. And then my partner was there — Ridgeway Music Company and Longview ASCAP [American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers] — we were going to tie it all together.

Gov. Browning was the governor of Tennessee. We appeared on the Grand Ole Opry, and he found out we were going to be there and he tied the string up as best he could by saying, “between you backing me up and me recording "Tennessee Waltz,” we can possibly make it a state song.” They had a state song before "Tennessee Waltz" — one of those about Tennessee with the magnolias in bloom — it's one of those songs you wouldn't want to have now!

But anyhow, Gov. Browning said, “if you boys back me up and I sing it, put 'em on that club that they got up here, make a demo for me and I'll present it to the legislature, and we'll try to vote on it.” Weeks went by, and I heard nothing from the governor —or even about the publisher checking up and seeing if it was alright to do it. But anyhow, he said, “I'm going to donate all of the money that the record makes to charity,” which was a good gesture on his part. I don't remember the charity. didn't even ask to find out how many records it sold. It was a good gesture — God, at that time, we would have had to break with—it worked out for the best with us 'cause in 1965, when Gov. Clements made it, it was really passed on, and Redd and I — we were playing a date In Columbia, S.C. — Mr. Wesley Rose called me and said, “you better hurry home. And I said, “oh, my God, now what happened!” He said, Something' good's going to happen to you and Redd. You better find a way to get here tomorrow morning. The governor's going to have a meeting with the house and the legislature, and they're going to propose a bill and pass The Tennessee Waltz" as the state song. “

So, there was a little airport there out of Columbia, and we started moseying around and I asked this guy who took care of the airport there, I says, is there any way I could get the first plane out of here and take us back, or charter or something”? He says, “where [are] you goin'? I says, “To Nashville.” He says, “you know something — I've got a guy here — we're going to fix it up and gas it up and in a little while go into Nashville, maybe he'll take you.” And I got his card from him and everything, and I lost it, but he flew us all the way to Nashville. Got to the airport. Acuff-Ross Publishing Company was waiting with a taxi to take us right to the capitol. And that's the morning — Feb. 17, 1965 — that the Tennessee legislature voted and made "The Tennessee Waltz" the official song of the state of Tennessee.

But, as time went on, if you ever heard a 100-piece marching band play “The Tennessee Waltz" march tempo, it makes your skin crawl. I mean you just throb all over — to think to get [it] to sound like that. And I know the major called several times and he wanted me to come over and visit with him and become good friends. And finally, Bruno Bryant and Felice Bryant wrote a song called "Rocky Top." They made that the official state song because it's a good marching' tune and it's got a lot of life to it. But we didn't care because Bruno and Felice are two of our best friends — friends of mine and the family's even, too.

Their "Rocky Top" came later than our "The Tennessee Waltz." So they---the people of Tennessee made “Rocky Top" number two — kind of a second state song. Not official, however. But they still use it — the marching bands and all.

When we received KH recognition from the state, I felt pretty good. The fast plane, the Concorde, I felt it was flying below me! Redd, too, he was tickled to death. He said, “let's face it — we're probably the only two living guys that got the state song. I was born in Tennessee and having a Tennessee state song” — his state, you know. And I says, “well, more power.”

This is how we happened to write the song. We had played a date in Texarkana, Tex. — across the Arkansas border. And it was a large high school. About 1946 or something like that. It was close to Christmas time, and we were coming back, and at that time I had an airline limousine — nine-passenger deal and then I had a luggage truck — panel truck. And two of the boys drove the truck — Redd Stewart drove the truck because he smoked cigars. And if we'd got in that stretch job, we'd been out of commission — half of the guys would have quit probably.

And there were sometimes when I wanted them to--anyhow, that's another story. So, we had the stretch limousine and the truck — two vehicles. That's the way we traveled. And I flashed the lights a couple of times, and I got a good idea, and I'd go in the truck and swap places with Chuck Wiggins, and Redd could go ahead and [to] smoking' those cigars. He had a pack of Strawbark (??)box of matches. For a nickel you could buy a box of matches. Like kitchen matches. Chuck Wiggins was driving the truck, and I was trading places with him.

Anybody would get tired of the cigar smoke! But he enjoyed Redd's company, and of course, he was studying Masonry, and he was getting his lecture at the same time — from Redd who was already a Mason. So, when we stopped, I'd say, “I'll take your place. Got a dome light right above the driver in the cab,” and I was making out the itinerary — where we go, where we stay, what costumes we were going to wear, don't be late, and we're going to eat in that restaurant and all that. But the next week, — I tried to get it all down on paper. This was a weekend — we were coming home to the Grand Ole Opry on Friday night. We had to be back to the Opry every Sat. night.

So, Redd said,” I've got an idea.” Had the radio playing and Bill Monroe had Introduced his "Kentucky Waltz.” That was a new song then. And the disc jockey at WSM — a 500,000-watt station that went all the way out past Texarkana and past everything. We were around Memphis at the time, and he said, “I want you folks to listen to Bill Monroe's new song, dedicated to his state of Kentucky. It's [the] Kentucky Waltz." So Redd says, I got an idea. Trade places with me and I'll get that box of matches and put the matches in the glove compartment, and we'll write it on the back of the matchbox cover. “

I had already written the paper and put it in my pocket — I didn't have no [any] room on it. A piece of paper I had that was filled up — theaters where we were going to play and where we were going^ to stay and all that — we weren't able to use it to write the song.

So, the matchbox was the only piece of available paper. We could write on the inside of the matchbox cover. And then Redd borrowed my pen, and he said, “I got an idea — the melody that we use — that "No Name Waltz" of ours that we cleared for theme song since they took our ASCAP away from us — what we'll do is I'll put the lyrics down here and with the melody int my mind, I think it'll work out.” And we talked about two or three lines at a time. "I was waltzing' with my darling to the Tennessee Waltz”. And then “when an old friend I happen to see “and “he kept on going--I remember the night, I remember the night" — we did that twice and it didn't sound too good so we scratched it out. "I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz.” And then he said, “ok that's it. This is the way it's going to go.

So as soon as we get to Nashville, we go ahead and make a demo on it. I'll get the guitar and make the chords on it and everything else. We wrote all the lyrics that night in the truck. The whole song. How simple can you get? We didn't make any changes after that. We had driven I'd say several miles when we tried to flash the lights and stop the boys because they were ahead of us now. Cowboy Copas was with us at that time and everything. They just kept going. I says, “to heck with 'em — we're going to stop and get some coffee and donuts. Then we'll go home. “

So, when we got home, Redd got his guitar out, putt in' down the notes and everything he could present—it to Fred Rose--the publisher. We were signed with him already, so he went ahead and accept it. Mr. Rose liked the song when he heard it. But our A & R man didn't like it; he wanted me to do "Kentucky Waltz" because it would cover Bill Monroe's. Ho said, Bill Monroe is going to have a hit with Kentucky Waltz" and you guys jump on it right away because that's one of your favorite things that you do — you do waltzes. And I said, “Steve, we got “The Tennessee Waltz" — we'd like to do it. “He says, “not this session — we'll do it next session. I said, “wait a while! He's our A & R man — artist and repertoire director. He was with RCA Victor. He's the main guy who records all the stars — Perry Como and everybody. He's the one who helped us decide that to record. He didn't want us to record "The Tennessee Waltz" at that session; we had four other songs ready. I don't remember what the other songs were. I forgot everything after that, and we argued it and he said, “well, I'd have

to look and see what came out at that time [an aside] — but anyhow, we arguments back

nd forth about material he picked up in New York and promised the publishers he might

get Pee Wee King to do it. Then when he gave it to us to run over, he could see some

of the boys went, Oh, man, don't ... "My Dog's Got Fleas" and all that stuff we went

through demos and that that we got sick of making demonstration records for 'em.

I'm a little schlax (!!??) in what they give — Wilcox Gay recorders had a microphone.

and a little sheet of black vinyl.

Demonstration records were demos or trial recordings of what we were going to put on record for commercial distribution. All the demos didn't become records. Sometimes when we had recording rehearsal sessions, we'd have maybe 8 or 9 tunes to go through and see if there was anything that would suit us right then. Then if we picked it out and recorded it, then we had another 15 weeks to wait for the next release because they gave you at least 15 weeks for the record to come out and see if it's going to do any good.

The funny part about it was Copas was with us in Chicago when we recorded that session with "Tenn. Waltz" and he liked it so well he was on King Records in Cincinnati , and our boys were the background band for him. And he was one of the stars of our show. So he went to Cincinnati, and he pushed a record. Sid (??), Nathan was the owner of King Records at that time; “he said, I want to record "The Tennessee Waltz” And Cid said, “go ahead and let's see what it sounds like”. Copas sang it; because he was on the session with us in Chicago, and Sid said, “whose song is it?” He

said, Pee Wee and Rcdd's. But he They could of written (???) for RCA Victor. Well, knowing that I got 15 weeks to wait, Copas submitted it. He said, “we can get a jump on Pee Wee and release our record ahead of time.” Well, write away, he lit up. He said, Why, sure. And then they were going to buy it and offer, I guess, $50 or $75 for it. And Redd said, You can't do that — that's not fair. So we had a lawsuit.

Well, Ernest Tubb had recorded "Term. Waltz" with the Short Brothers. And they printed the music and everything and released the record and selling' sheet music at the record stores — at the sheet music counters. And we got a copy of it, and we said, “wait a while! We didn't know he was going to do it. He didn't get permission,”— he just took it. Ernest Tubb did. He said he didn't know better than that. He thought it was all right to cover it. But he claimed it. They had added the Short Bros, name on the music and everything. His publishing company — he hadn't given Redd and more credit. He pirated. It was a pirated copy. So, we had a lawsuit, but we were friends all the time during the lawsuit. We had no animosity because our publisher said, “he can't win — there’s no way he can possibly win! It's copyrighted you guys own it and we're going to fight for it.”

The lawsuit was heard in Nashville and then one also in New York because Mercury Records was going to hold up all the royalties on Patti Page's record until the lawsuit was finished. - And that was a lot of stink, too — I didn't like that.

The Patti Page recording was on Mercury Records and and they didn't want to pay any royalties until it was decided who the rightful owners were — whether it was Redd and me, or Ernest Tubb. Well, the publishers were going to argue that — it wasn't between us. "Tennessee Waltz" had already been published by Acuff-Rose, Hill, and Range in New York published it with the Short Brothers name on it. And they put it in Ernest Tubb publishing Company — it was a branch of the Hill and Range. When Acuff-Rose published it--it had our names on it. And that had already been published before the Tubb controversy. So, we had already established our rights to it — our ownership — because we had prior publication.

I don't know what the whole situation was with Ernest Tubb, but they cleaned it up in about 6 or 7 months after that. Ernest Tubb didn't make a recording of “Tennessee Waltz" — the two boys — the Short Brothers did. It was released. Nobody seems to have heard it. I doubt there are any copies around, not anymore. I never heard them sing it. I didn't know how they sounded, and I didn't want to know.

Before Patti Page recorded it, we did but it was in the can and they were going to hold it there until about February. And then Cowboy Copas had it because he recorded it on King and jumped the gun — and he did it. And he did it with the Pee Wee King-Redd Stewart writers, and Ichafols (???) publisher, and at that time it was legal to jump — it was a handshake or a gentleman's agreement — that he wouldn't release his. But they were hot to get that thing out before we released ours, and in 2 and 3 months at that time, we could do a lot of damage.

So, everybody liked it — the song. They all sensed it was going to be a winner. But when Redd and I were writing it in that truck cab, we didn't know it was going to be a winner. We recorded so many waltzes — "Changing Partners,”— they wanted to make me the Waltz King, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to be stereotyped— that all you could do was waltzes. And of course, that would have been a mistake, too, because if I had, Wayne King was the Waltz King, too. I would have been competing against him, and he was with RCA Victor Records, too.

When Redd and I were driving along and writing the song, we already had the melody. It was the song that we had cleared — that I had written for the theme song, so we could be on the Grand Ole Opry with a theme song. It was called "No Name Waltz." It's just about exactly the same melody. There were no lyrics to "No Name Waltz" — just the melody. I had written that by myself; Redd didn't write it at all.

But we used it as a theme song more or less for radio because you had to have a theme song to come on the air with. So, Redd sat there and was writing on the inside of the matchbox some lyrics that would go with the melody. The melody was in both of our minds. We hummed it. He wrote the first word, and we were humming along. He just kept on until ... every now and then he'd say, “now, how does this sound? How does this sound?” And there wasn’t too much to do to change it. Just leave it like it was. [Sings lyrics to song]

I'm hoarse because I did interviews in Nashville for two days this week. Because we're going to have a big to-do April 1st — put them all together — all Hall of Fame members who are still living and we're going to have a gathering in Nashville and a show. It’s going to be filmed at the Opry House and a show and broadcast later coast to coast. There will be an audience. I wrote on the demo my band and I made “Steve”, I says, “[this] dis is a hit.” I think I still [have] got the demo. The RCA Victor Records version that we—after that demo was a hit. It sold half-a-million right off the bat. Performed by Pee Wee King and his Golden West Cowboys. These were the top Victor labels.

1949. [He brings out a record.] These were the top Victor labels. Look who's in the lead — Eddy Arnold. I wrote him the other day when we came back from Joliet; I says, “I gave you two plugs, Arnold;” he says, “by God, I’ll send me a check for it.”

See, Copas went down the line (???) — of course, he comes here (???). Points — I had 39 and he had 31. That's popularity points. See, Eddy Arnold didn't quit with those five over there — you just go down the line; he had no. 7 and he had no. 10. Now here's the same way we had in '52. Here's our publishing company — "You Belong to Me" and "Slow Poke." We had two of the top 10 — or 11. "Slow Poke" was way up on the charts at the time.

So, Cowboy Copas recorded "Tennessee Waltz." The Short Brothers didn't "do nothing [anything] — I think they scrapped the record eventually. Oh yeah, they released it — they were selling it on the record counters. And the sheet music they were selling too, that's violating all the laws of the thing. I remember the last thing that the publisher said — he said, “instead of dragging this thing on and on and on; if you guys are displeased (???), or the expenses for the court trails [trials] and everything — we'll call it quits.” We didn't get any damages — we couldn't — what were we going to do — make enemies out of your best friends! Nowadays people say they want to get everything they've got in a lawsuit. It was a mistake, but I don't think it was an honest mistake. But it was a test they were going to put us through to see if they could do it. Ernest Tubb and I had a falling out for a couple of weeks. Mr. Frank was his manager; he was managing both of us. Mr. Frank wouldn't have known about the Ernest Tubb recording because he didn't go to Ernest Tubb's record sessions. He didn't have anything to do with a record contract — that was a different area. He wasn't that kind of manager — he did just personal appearances.

But Mr. Frank did get me a record contract. Him and Roy Nash — Roy Nash was a distributor of RCA Victor in Knoxville, and he come down to the Grand Ole Opry to see what he could find over there. And we happened to be backstage, and Murray Nash introduced himself to me. Said, “I'm the distributor for RCA Victor in Knoxville,” and he says, “I'd like to talk to you about a record contract with RCA Victor.” He said, “I'd like to submit you to the New York outfit.” And we went on the Grand Ole Opry and had to do two radio shows — one at nine o’clock and one at elven o'clock — so he didn't want to sit back there so Mr. Frank took him home with him. That was about 1946.

We didn't have a record contract before that, but we put out our own records. In 1945, '44, somewhere back then, we started our own record company called Nash Records. And we did it for the sole purpose of packaging Minnie Pearl, Cowboy Copas, Bradley Kincaid, and Pee Wee King. These four people were on the road together and we'd sell as a package. We made two-sided records, and there was enough there that each one of us at least could have a little money out of it on personal appearances.

We mainly sold these records when we were making personal appearances. We didn't sell them in record stores because at that time we didn't make a deal with a record company. And Mr. Frank got a call from Gene Autry at that time and says, “Joe, I don't know about your record company — have you started it? Started it?” he said, “yeah, we're all through. Got the labels and everything. 10,000 records we're going to press and got the labels made for Pee Wee, Copas and Minnie Pearl and Bradley Kincaid.” Minnie Pearl sang comedy songs on her records.

Gene said, “well, I've got bad news for you. You'd better get rid of it because in a couple of weeks we're going to have the damnest strike you ever saw. A shellac strike — the record companies are going to go broke.” And then the BMI and ASCAP war started. BMI is Broadcast Music

Incorporated — it's big new but it was nonexistent at that time, just a small. And Mr. Frank says, “well, I don't know.” So, he went into the bank one day; he wanted to borrow some money from them to pay for some of the things he had done all this time. And Jim Bailey (??) was the manager of the bank at the time — one of the Nashville banks. This all happened in Nashville — we were living there then. Jim says, “why what do you need this money for, Joe?” And he says, “well, there's going to be a hell of a war going on here — a music war,” — and he says, “I got all those packages and ready made to go out and can take 'em on the road. The acts that I book,” — Bradley Kincaid was booked by him, too. Jim says, “well, what have you got to have in it — how much you got in it?” He says, “well, I don't know — about$7,000 all together or $6,000.” He says, “don't do nothin' hasty yet — I'll think about that tonight — maybe I'll take it off the (??).”

So, I think it was a couple of days later when Mr. Frank went back again. He said, “Jim, I can't wait anymore — I got to have the money.” Jim says, “will you take $5,000 cash? and forget it?” He says, “No, I'll take $5,000 and then you’ll owe me $2,000 — $1,000 — make it on three payments.” So, he got the $5,000 and paid off his debts add then Jim got the Nash Record label. So, he scrapped all that stuff, and the good news — he started his own company called The Bulleit. And the first one that recorded was Francis Craig — the nephew of the Craigs that owned National Life Insurance Co. And Francis had the orchestra at the hotel down there. At the leading hotel. The one down on Deadrick [Ave.].

But anyhow, he had a blind singer with him, and Jim said, “Francis, how would you like to put the orchestra together on a record label? I'm startin' a record label.” They put their heads together and — press! "Red Rose" — that was his theme song — that was on the other side. A beautiful schmaltzy number. And I don't think anybody heard that side of It — the minute the record come [came] out with "Near You” [hums]. That hit like a tornado, and it made Francis a popular orchestra and they were working all over the United States then. Of course, Bulleit Records went sky high for a short while. Then, later on, they just quit completely. Well, he's passed away now. That would have been around 1946.

Our first venture with recording was with our own company, so was the publishing. Well, we published our own book. We put out a little book of songs and along with the songbook we got the pictures here. And that's when we (??). This one come [came] out in '52. The other one come [came] out in '46. Here's the other one. We sold (???) that on the Grand Ole Opry To get these songbooks and souvenir books, we had people write in and send orders to us or else they'd sell them on the road, too. That was the purpose of exploiting our songs.

We had our costumes custom-made in Hollywood, California. Nudie (??) is the rodeo tailor. Nudie is a Jewish man. He works for a man named Turk and he gets [does] such a good job that he finally built his own factory. And Rex Allen, and Tex Williams and Roy Rogers and everybody out there went to him right away. And he started making suits in Noralgo (???) for all the Western cowboys and cow public (??) John Wayne and all of 'em.

It was Frank and King Publications. In addition to souvenir books, we published songbooks. Then we started a big publishing company Ridgeway and Longview. Ridgeway is BMI; Longview is ASCAP. The difference is there are two different licensing firms. ASCAP are the big guys like Irving Berlin, Conn and some of those; and BMI started in Nashville, and he signed up all the country music stars. We were not licensed by both of them — our big publishing company. We had it because we were accepting everybody's songs that presented them to us, and a lot of people wanted to be ASCAP songwriters.

We started Frank and King in 1943 and it lasted just long enough till we started the other one — Ridgeway. Ridgeway replace[d] Frank and King. They took all them [those] songs and put them in the other company. For Frank and King, and also for Ridgeway, I'd write the sheet music in rough form and the printer would put it out in good form. Redd and I got about 400 songs in the company.

All of our songs were published in sheet music form. Every one of them. Some of them didn't get off the ground at all, and some of 'em made fairly good. I wrote on the demo of "Tennessee Waltz," Dear Steve: This is a hit. I still might have that demo. That's the only time I ever expressed myself. Most of the time I just didn't know whether a song I had written was going to be a hit. A good example of that — "Santa Claus Boogie" was on the A side of Patti Page's release. The B side was "The Tennessee Waltz." So they thought that "Santa Claus Boogie" was going to be the big hit. It was already advertised and everything. She's going to record dis [this] and the publisher put out big ads in Billboard and everything else. And when you buy a Billboard ad, it costs money.

Patti Page’s manager, Jack Rael, a Jewish Guy, selected her to record "The Tennessee Waltz." A fellow by the name of Wetzel — he was working for Billboard at the time, and he was review master of records that were coming out and published by legit firms. So, he had a couple of tunes under his arm and he saw Jack Rael on the street, in front of the hotel in New York. He says, “Jack, come on with me — what are you doin'?” He says, “Nothin' — why?” He says, “I want you to hear somethin.” He says, “by gosh, I think this is a hit.”

And he had Erskine Hawkins' record — that's a black man — of "The Tennessee Waltz." Erskine Hawkins was playing the ballroom at Coney Island in Cincinnati, and they were there for a month. And while he was dere [there], he heard the song "Tennessee Waltz" by Cowboy Copas because Cid Nation was pushin' Copas at that time. And Erskine says, “hell, we'll do it.” And in the country field, our record was big, so Nelson King knew that he could get Erskine to go to Coney Island. So, Coney Island was swamped with requests for "The Tennessee Waltz" by Erskine Hawkins, and his singer did a good job- So he had a really (??).

So, this man took it up, put it on a turntable and played it. And Jack Rael said, “isn't that a black man?” He says, “yeah. A darn nice guy.” So, he says, “by God, hold it — don't let anybody else hear it; I[‘ve] got an idea.” And Jack Rael is a musician as well; he's Patti's manager but also a musician. So, he gets Patti to New York — this is it. He says, “you hear that trumpet encore,” [hums “Tennessee Waltz"], “and then we'll do you in three voices.” So, she recorded the original one in three voices. Then she cut it down to two voices. Then she did it as a single — she didn't like it as a single — she said, “let's go with two voices.” And he put that on the B side.

It was no frills and fancy stuff there — just a simple song — somethin’ for the B side. And the other fellow sure was not aware of a thing. Didn't know what the B side was. All he knew he had "Santa Claus Boogie" comin’ out Christmas, and they got us a powerhouse. That was Christmas of 1951; I think it was. "You Belong to Me" was in ’52—’50.

So, Patti Page recorded the song in 1948 — I would say. On Mercury Records — as a kind of Christmas release. They got permission from Acuff-Rose; they were the publishers. We didn't publish then — not the big one — just the book stuff. We couldn't [do nothing] nothin' about it anyhow. They had the song right from the beginning — Acuff-Rose. Once they get it copyrighted, they own it. And when somebody wanted to record it, all they had to do was get permission from them — we had no say-so in it — just the license. We had to sign the license contract. (??)

We get a royalty from each recording. They charge a royalty, and we get 50/50. The writers get some and the publishers get some. I still get royalties from "The Tennessee Waltz" — there's no tellin.' What I did is I incorporated myself as a corporation with my family back in '64, so if anything happened to me, all that would revert to my family because they're all stock shareholders. This lawyer in Nashville said, “you do that you're protectin’ yourself and all your songs 'cause as time goes on, there are going to be a lot of changes in the music business and something may happen — they might take your song back as public domain and anybody can use it then.” And that's just what happened in the last 10 years or so — we've had two renewals on copyrights. And I couldn't figure out why because once you copyright a song, it's yours.

If you invent something and get it registered, that patent — it's yours forever. This law originated in 1909 and said all the copyrights got to be copyrighted by the publisher and put in the register at Washington. From 1909 to 1978, there hadn't been a change. It was always the same. But since 1978, they made three changes: they had an investigation of copyrights in '78; and then in '81 you had to renew your songs and again in '88. So, there's been two renewals, and it costs $6 to renew a song each time. The ’78 law is still valid, and it's till death and 50 years after.

I incorporated my family, and they will let shareholders in the rights to all the songs that I have an interest in. When I heard Patti Page's recording of "The Tennessee Waltz," I flipped. I flipped. Because it came out like a shotgun — like a bullet. The minute they got her records out on the market, first 3 million went like hotcakes — the Christmas season wasn't even over with yet. I heard her recording before the public started buying it. I liked it. I liked the two voices. Both voices are hers; she's recorded them twice and they've been put together. All indications were that this was going to be a hit because the trade papers covered it right away — they made Patti Page and "The Tennessee Waltz" the hit song in every form of country and everything.

Japan is the biggest seller of country music right now, and they were the first to report that 2, 3 Japanese girls that had hit records in Japan, too, with “The Tennessee Waltz" in Japanese. I had one of these recordings, but I gave it away fo [to] the museum for our keeping. I got Spike Jones downstairs yet with a version of "Tennessee Waltz,” — why a regular Tennessee Irving! [says with a New York accent].

I had not met Patti Page before she recorded "The Tennessee Waltz." I met her in Chicago; Mercury Record Co. is in Chicago, and I knew two or three guys that worked there at the studios — they're musicians and all that. So, when I went to the guy who produced the record, Jack Rael was there at the time, and he said, “you wanna meet Patti — come on.” That's how we met. They were talking about the campaign — what she’s gonna do — what show she's going [to] go on, what TV shows and all that. That was what they were talking with Patti Page about. I met her about three months after the record had been released. She was a pretty woman, too. She was a very nice lady — she still is. She's still the same except now she's married to a multi-millionaire. Well, she's the biggest-selling girl singer in the business. She and I have embraced several times. We were on the show in Austin, Texas-- — "A legendary Show" — and Redd and I and Patti were on a stage together sining [singing] "The Tennessee Waltz" and it was so funny — and she sang it ... [sings lyrics] "...and she stole my darlin' from me" — well, we men sang it our way "... and he stole my darlin' from me."

I would say my "You Belong to Me" has come close to "The Tennessee Waltz" in popularity. I just talked to Bob Price— Chilton’s husband — the other night— at Art Greenamyer's birthday party. He was one of the guys he invited because they knew each other. And Bob was sayin' that from all indications, Chilton's just thrilled with the reaction we’re getting on this "You Belong to Me" from the Oldies but Goodies station.

All the stations in the United States are still fightin' for that [those] old goodies. And they're trying to kill it — they want to stop that. I don’t know why. That's what the big argument's going to be in the next couple of weeks from the radio stations in answer to the big syndications that are coming in and buyin’ two or three radio stations in every little town. I don't know where the force is coming from — there's a couple of great big companies; they are smotherin' [smothering them] and they want to take two little stations here and three there and make a regular chain out of it, and then they can control the whole business.

I don't think they'll be playing old songs after this take places; [takes place] they're going to go with the new trend. As the times go on, years ago the country music — it's just boomed now again — and the people who knew Pee Wee King and Redd Stewart and Ernest Tubb and Minnie Pearl and people like that — they're gone— they went up ladders in the sky. But country music is the most popular music in the nation — right now, but they push on It. I think some kind of syndicate is wantin' to change that. They've got too much money invested in what they're doin'. Ours doesn't mean [anything] nothin' to them from the investment standpoint that they've got. They're going to be pushing black music — a lot of black music —a lot of black artists comin' up.

If you look at those charts, you'll see there's a big difference in '49 and '50. There were 600 different recordings of the "Tennessee Waltz." Those are the ones that paid licenses; there was a lot of garage recordings going on and little independent record companies that don't even bother to get a license. I don't think the company gets involved with suing pirates anymore because of the cost; they got their own attorneys and everything else — most of the big record companies and most of the big publishers, so the little guy would be overwhelmed. It wouldn't make [any] no difference to him no how — if you were to sue him, you would get anything.

Some of the other songs that I have written or co-written that have become popular are “Bonaparte’s Retreat.” Back several years ago when we were recording four different ways of square dancing, Mr. Sholls {??) got the boy from Texas to come in here and we rehearsed with him several times to get the Texas style. Then we got Kentucky square dancing. I noticed in this Texas square dancing — the record that he had — had a little Cajun beat to it and everything else. It was called "Bonaparte's Retreat" and actually it's French Cajun.

So, we took the tune and put words to it, and it was in the public domain, so we took the whole thing and gave it to Acuff-Rose and published it. So, the melody of "Bonaparte's Retreat" was public domain. I don't know who wrote it. It was kind of a folk melody. And we put the bridge to it — that middle part. [sings the part they changed and added to.] The other one was repetitious. Redd and I both wrote it.

I've written songs with other people — Joe Frank — Mr. Frank. We did a couple of tunes — I can't think of them right now. He'd go down the highway and think of a title and write it down and give it to me. “Now you got to think somethin' up about that,” he'd say. It might be a situation that would come up. [Sings “Remember that Little Darling] So, there I'd be with a thought like that — that was his title, so we wrote (??). That song was "Darling, How Can You Forget So Soon?" We had Grandpa Jones to record it. And we had a Gene Autry record on it. And Eddy Arnold did it on an album. That's an ASCAP (??) I wrote with Redd Stewart, Mr. Frank, and Chilton Price.

Chilton Price is a woman; she was our librarian at the radio station; she took care of the music library at WAVE. That's when we were doing television rehearsals and one day she came by and said, “I got about six tunes in this Manila envelope, and I'd like for you to take 'em home and see what you think about 'em.” And I put them in my accordion case. I took 'em home. And they stayed here for a while because I had another accordion at the station that I used. And finally, I took them out and took them down to the piano and I'd punch out single notes and Lydia would sing the songs for me.

The first one I liked was "Slow Poke," And the next one was "It Ain't What You Wanted What You Get,” ..." — it's a novelty tune. So, I gave it to Chuck to learn how to sing it. As long as we're going to publish the songs, we're gonna get 'em out the best we can. So, on top of us doing it first on radio — remember Tiny Hill the band leader — he changed his name to Buster Brown when he recorded at Mercury Records — and he recorded it — "It Ain't What You Wanted What You Get" — he does comedy anyhow. And we got a record on that. [her songs]

Chilton Price had a complete song — they're beautiful, her songs, but she doesn't sing, and in order to get a feel of a song, "You Belong to Me" was first, "Hurry Home to Me" — for the soldiers and pilots. [Sings the first and second versions of the song.]

Both of us changed the words — we would be sittin' here going over the songs. She wrote music for them; we used to change songs — change words in them to make it easier for the singers. The first song of hers was "It Ain't What You Wanted What You Get" and the next one was "Slow Poke." And there was one more before "You Belong to Me." She's still living. And she still writes songs — she's got one I went to her house and presented her with one of her awards and over a cup of coffee. She sang a little tune called "Holly the Jolly Hippopotamus." It's the cutest song you'll ever want to listen to, and I hope I can place it with these new — I tried to get somebody like Autry did with "Frosty the Snowman" and all that. If there was [were] guys like that recording today, they're few and far between. And I tried to get those three boys Riders in the Sky 'cause Doug Green's a personal friend of mine, and if his [he] could do it on an album, I'd be happy for her, too. I'm still trying to help her with her songs because she's got so many good songs.

Chilton Price is from Louisville. She's got a married daughter and a grandchild, and she's contented. Plays bridge almost every day. And writes songs. I'd say she's got 500 songs in her suitcase if you want 'em. She had been writin' at least ten years before I met her.

We took the best we could and we (??) records on it and did 'em ourselves or transcriptions (??) performances. But, for other guys, like, she gave 'em to Perry Como, and gave some to some of the singers in New York with the publishers she met. And nothing happened — I don't think she got one hit out of all those songs. Or maybe there was one, yeah. And I was very disappointed in Bing Crosby's record — her tunes that he recorded –somethin’ about the West — but he didn't sell enough to warrant even recording it.

You never can tell — even a popular singer may not sell. You have to have the right combination — the recorder, the song, and timing. And the funny part about it is I'm a stickler — words are secondary for me — because after [the] melody is played and words are put to it, the words die out and the melody lingers on. You can write new words but that's stealin’ somebody else’s song. You get more performances after the words are dead — instrumentalists come out and play it. With the "Tennessee Waltz," people who have forgotten the words will whistle it or hum along when they hear the melody. I've argued that the melody comes first at the songwriters' meetings a lot of times. When we have our meetings, we discuss [the] pro[s] and con[s] of the business. And I say, “when the guy forgets the words like Robert Goulet doesn't even know the national anthem, it's pretty sad.” He could[‘ve] of whistled it. It is the melody that people remember, and different generations can add different words if they want to.

To me, I think one of the prettiest songs, and this is my own personal opinion, [is] "Melody of Love." It's got the most beautiful refrain to it, and melody just lingers on like that. When I visited Wayne King up in Wisconsin one time, when he was living there, he was in his back beat(???) room above his garage, and he was going through his records and tapes and everything, and he was taking out McCormick's [John McCormack?] voice — he did the recitation when they had Lady Aster Serenade every Sunday. And Mr. McCormick did all the voice tracts [tracks] — he did the recitations behind the music, or the music behind his recitation.

And in a lot of instances, he wanted to release the song without recitations, so he was trying to cut out certain segments of the recording without McCormick's voice because he was going to put all instrumental (??). Before he passed away, he kept staying, “before I pass away, I want to take a lot of those songs that are so good with McCormick's voice on it.” And I gave him credit because he did a good job of selling the songs on Lady Aster Serenade. But, it was still Wayne King and the Lady Aster Serenade that the people remember, but that generation is gone now. And so is Wayne King. So, you don’t ever hear nothin' [anything] about Wayne King's records anymore. I didn't know that Wayne King sang either until I went to one of his dances up there in Illinois. And he was singing the song, and it was very cute.

For all of us involved at the time in 1952, I got called back to Hollywood for some business, and Mr. Frank and I went out there together, and of course, Redd sold his interest in this publishing company, so we all went out there — Mr. Frank had already set “The Durango Kid” for us — two pictures with the Durango Kid. But I was called out there to Hollywood to witness the star of mine in the Hollywood--walk with a star on Hollywood Blvd. The chamber of commerce — they put the stars out there. I had been to California so many times and Hollywood, and staying there at Charlie Adams' house. I went to a lot of the meetings that the chamber of commerce had. And one of the most popular disc jockeys became the president the year that ... he said, “Charlie, tell Pee Wee we are going to put his star on the walk with the stars. He should come out and get the next installation so he can have it ready.”

I got my star in 1952. I went out there, and Lydia went with me. They showed me where the star was going to be and where Merv Griffin and this comic had the show over there at the Merv Griffin Theater. And mine is right in front of the Merv Griffin Theater and right by a big drugstore on the corner. I've forgotten who was on the other side of me — from where you stand right on the star, you could look at the Capitol Record Company building. I have a star by myself. I got one in Nashville, too.

The one in Nashville is [a] star in the Walkway of Stars. It's inside the building now; they moved a lot of 'em in when they took it off the sidewalk, so they'll last longer. That's inside the lobby of the museum in the [Country Music] Hall of Fame, just before you get to the library.

The two movies that we made with the Durango Kid, the first one was "Rough, Tough West." Both movies were done in 1952; we did them both in the short time we were out there. Mr. Frank arranged this before he passed away. I went out with the Golden West Cowboys — all of them — that's the same band that got the Number one award from ballroom operators of the country — National Ballroom Operators Association — all also from the jukebox operators and also from Orchestra World — and they made us the number one Western Swing Band in the country. And those boys — you couldn't talk to them; they were on cloud nine. And to think that all of them put together — each one had a contribution to make and that was it. Some of them devoted a lot of time to making arrangements and others just tag[ged] along with 'em but they all had one purpose in mind — that's to become number one.

The first movie was a Western. It was typical of all cowboy movies. They got the dance hall and the dance hall girls and all that. In our movie, we were also able to act a little more — in both pictures with Durango Kid. Smiley Burnette was doing comedy at that time, and he was the chief of the fire department. And we were his fire department. But at the same time, we were (??) musical, so whenever there was a dance, let's have a dance, let's have a party — Pee Wee, get the boys out and come on. In the movie, I was called Pee Wee King — I had my real name and my real band — the name used in the movie,

One of the funniest situation comedies that Smiley thought of himself — the hotel was on fire and there was [were] girls up there and some of the cowboys were up there with 'em. They were trying to get them out of the building because the building was so dry, and the weather was so dry and hot that the building caught on fire and was going to catch some of the other buildings. So, Smiley said, “firemen, come on, quick. Douse the fire — we[‘ve] got to put it out.”

So, we got hold of a hose and the fire engine backed up to the building — like from here to I'd say that tree over there. And we got that hose all the way out there. RhM Then, when I thought it was all done, we took a lunch break. And we all wore our helmets, but we were dressed in regular clothes — cowboy clothes — but still, not gawdy ones either except for the dance, when we played for the dance we changed costumes. At lunch, Smiley made a suggestion to the director. He says, “you want to save time and it makes us look better if you shorten the hose a little bit.” He says, “that's just too much hose that we[‘ve] got to haul out there.” And the director said, “do it the way you want to.” Well, we weren't told as we were eating at the chow wagon. Now Smiley knew about it. So, when he got the hose, he was supposed to lead us. But actually, he was the fifth guy in place. I was in the lead and Chuck was behind me, and Terry Tishy(??) the guitar player and the drummer Sticks (??); then Smiley came and then Redd and his brother.

But anyhow, in the lead I says, “we're ready, fellows, left's put out the fire and run like the devil.” And I was ready to go all the way to where we had stopped before. And it didn't happen that way. The hose went down from under my arm, and the other fire four [four fire] guys piled up on each other. Helmets are made of plastic. A couple of the guys got cut up; then, they started worrying about it [going] to the hospital and all, to the Red Cross station — no, right here. We're going to be taken care of right here — cover up with makeup and everything else. But that was so funny because it was Smiley's idea and it backfired on him.

They left the comedy scene in — that's what the whole thing was about. The first scene was too long; it took too much time; by the time we walked over and unraveled the hose and everything else — this way the hose was laying out there and all we had to do was pick it up. So, this added to the comedy because I didn't expect the hose to be that short. Neither did the boys(??). So, we didn't have to do another take of that. I got a big kick out of it — everybody got a big kick out of it. Nobody was seriously injured — just scratched and nicked.

The second movie I made then was "Riding the Outlaw Trail." Now I forgot how that one goes so I'm waiting for a copy of it. Somewhere I'm going to get a copy — I got "Rough, Tough West" I just got recently. A disc jockey up in Connecticut — he was watching television — a family station up there — and the guy says, “well, this being Saturday, the old family station is going to bring us a real good Western — Durango Kid — Charles Starrett, better known as Durango Kid, and with him is going to be Pee Wee King and all of his Golden West Cowboys.” Well, this guy said, “hey, get the camcorder, get the camcorder [the VCR], set it up.” So, he copied it, and he sent me a copy. And I in turn gave him "Flame of the West" to copy off, so I'm waiting now for the exchange. He's going to keep his ears open, and I am going to call who originates the family station here. There's somebody who's [whose] got family stations listed in the newspaper even — it says Family Channel. That's a cable network.

We were so busy in Nashville this week. We went down Tuesday. We had our regular meeting — first quarterly meeting — of The Country Music Foundation. The foundation covers the museum-- the Hall of Fame and the exhibits, and the library, and the souvenirs — gift shop. I'm on the board of directors. I was president of it in 1978. And somehow, I stay on; it's a very prestigious group and I like--. Ralph Emery was on the board for a while. Now Rodger Savine (??) is and he's the head of BMI in Nashville — songwriters. And Bill Denny, who was one of the fellows — his dad was in the music and publishing business — so was he; now he's head of the Nashville Power Company, and a musician who used to be with Hank Snow — Joe Talbert (??) who's [who is] now a big-shot publisher; he publishes sheet music and everything. The girl who represents Opryland — she’s on the board; she exchanges ideas with us and everything And five members of the staff are also made deputies so if we need to pass a law of some kind while one or two of 'em got to sit in on the board; but they contribute a lot to the new exhibits and everything.

So, then we were informed that on April 1, the Country Music Foundation was going to be involved in a production of the Hall of Fame members' TV show. And it’ll be something like the 65th anniversary. It's going to be about the same format, they're going to have traditional artists — Hall of Fame members — the ones like Eddy Arnold, Clifty Storm (??), Tenn (??), dead already, a couple of other guys, Lester Flatt of Flatt and Scruggs, Hank Thompson, but they're going to mix it so that we do the old part and tell about some of our experiences as a Hall of Fame member, and why do you think you deserve to be in the Hall of Fame. Then they're going to come back and intersperse it with Garth Brooks, Clint Black, Vince Gill, Travis Tripp (??), Marty Stewart, it’ll be focused on the living members of the Hall of Fame, and then [they] will intersperse it with the new ones who are not in the Hall of Fame — the young ones.

Hank Williams Jr. is not in the Hall of Fame, and I don't think he's even been nominated— not yet. The procedure for being nominated to the Hall of Fame. First, they evaluate your career. And you have to show what you've done to make the progress of country music what it is today. And how you have participated in getting this thing done, your contribution to the field. The evaluation is made by twelve members of the board of election of the Country Music Association. They have a board of twelve people — a review board — and then they're submitted twenty-five names each year. And out of the twenty-five, they pick out five. Once they nominate you, you stay there until you go in or drop out. In other words, you can go in for two or three years and be nominated, then all at once you're dropped off because somebody else is going to take your place. Only one every odd year and two every even year are selected. They're selected from the five nominees.

Webb Pierce and Carl Smith and people like Glenn Campbell deserve to be — they won't ever get in — Glenn will probably go in the academy out in California. He won't make it into the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville. I don't know because he's been too pop.

The twelve people vote — they make the selection. It is by secret ballot. You don't know who it's going to be — that's why they say they're not going to tell you until you actually go in. You know you're nominated; you're forewarned about that. But you'll never know until the night of the awards who goes in. The winner is announced October first-on the Grand Ole Opry stage. All the nominees used to sit on the front row. But they eliminated that 'cause it sort of made a spectacle of the guy (??). I remember Henry Cannon's words when he said, “Minnie, we're not going to come here no more; [anymore] you've been nominated three times and you haven't gone in yet.” He said, “I don't think I'll come to it next year either.” And that was the year she was nominated [he laughs]. He came after all, and of course, she was there. He was getting embarrassed by it — you're in the limelight. The spots are always on you in the front row. When the camera zooms into the audience, you're the first one sitting there. But the nominees don't sit on the front row anymore. They sit anywhere they want to.

I was nominated three times before I was elected, I was elected the third time. That's not bad — I said I was very fortunate but see, Owen Bradley and I tied; there's never been a tie on the selection for the Hall of Fame, and he and I were the first two who ever tied. So, both of us were inducted the same year. Owen Bradley is the musical genius of Nashville. He invented the Nashville Sound. And he was a band leader, a publisher, a songwriter, a fine musician, and everybody loved him. He was also an A & R man for Decca Records, a big, big, big man. He's still living; he's got bad eyes - glaucoma. So does Roy; Roy was there Tuesday also; I talked to him. And he had his friend Charlie with him leadin’ him around. Roy Acuff isn't feeble but more or less destitute because he can't see what's going on, He still performs on the Grand Ole Opry. The way he does that [is] they set him at a certain place and he knows his way around the stage. He has glaucoma; and there's nothing they can do.

Minnie Pearl is in a wheelchair with a 24-hour-a-day nurse to attend her. I talked to Henry once in the last couple of weeks, but her right side is not coming back, and her speech is not coming back. She's already canceled everything and won't be coming back to show business. So now all they have to do is use clips on her. She's a big part of it. I was kiddin' Grandpa the other day — we were doin' our interviews and that. I was third; Roy Acuff was first; Jimmy Dickens was second because he had a long trip to make. I was third and then Grandpa come in fourth. I was teasin’ him — I said, “I watch “'Hee Haw.” He said, “you don't watch 'Hee Haw.' I said, “yes. I do.” I says, “right now is a chance for you to tell Roy Clark to go to hell and you take it over 'cause you're the star of the show now.” And he is, he proves it when they go on that stage. Of course, Roy makes a good host; he's a hell of a--.

They asked us a question like you .... how the "Tennessee Waltz" was written. That was one of the questions. The other one was how did I get into country music. I said, “I went into Country Western music; I didn't go into Country music.” I says, “to begin with, I'm not a Bluegrass entertainer and I'm not a Country-Western entertainer anymore because our music now has been accepted by so many other different people.” And I said, “I was once given the credit for hiring a crossover — the first one — from country to pop-— "The Slow Poke." “He said, “why do you say that?” I said, “in December 1951 "Slow Poke" was number one on the charts — Instead of the Christmas songs. It took the place of "White Christmas.”” These interviews will be used in the April 1 show. These are clips that will be put into the edited show.

Lydia was in Nashville with me. I stayed Tuesday until dark and then we drove home in a snowstorm. Gene Autry was supposed to come in Tuesday, but he was in the hospital; he had the third operation on his eyes. He got a clot behind one of 'em. Gene can't fly no more [anymore]. He's 86 now.

The show will be live, and they'll use these clips to put in. They'll introduce me and then they'll show the interview with me, for instance. But I'll be live on the stage. I don't know when it's supposed to air; I talked with Mr. Ivy the producer. There's a bunch of 'em involved — to be on the show — besides me. All the Hall of Fame people who are livin'. Gene Autry is in the Hall of Fame; he was one of the early ones — about number six or seven. I've got a list of 'em in the order that they run,

and it starts out with Freddie Rose and Roy Acuff, and I believe Ernest is about 7th or

8th — somewhere around there. I was about 15th or 16th — 1974.

I would like to express my feelings about non-musical or non-performers being inducted to the Country Music Hall of Fame. We got a lot of bookin' agents that I have worked for — a lot of men — of course, there will never be for me anybody like Mr. Frank — and of course, I'm partial there, too. But there are some fine bookin' agents around the country that I've worked for, and I give credit to them for keeping you alive on the road a lot of times when you got two or three dates in a week that you're gonna play up in Wyoming or Nebraska or Mitchell, South Dakota, and he’ll farm you out to another booking agent — he's smart enough and he knows the territory.- And I want to give those guys — nobody shouts their praises no more [anymore] — they accept them for what they are. To me, the Oldtimers — several of them — like Hap Peebles — he's done a lot for them; Ward Beam, who used to work in New York — he got me a lot of work.

Every area has their popular booking agents and the time that Lucky Moore was still livin' — he framed a package together for Minnie Pearl and I. When Minnie Pearl got hot on "Hee Haw," and we still were hot on records, he said, “why don't I put you two people together — you go like peanut butter and jelly.” And he said, “you two would make a fine combination to headline a package on.” So, we went on tour several times for Lucky Moore.

These booking agents are the great unsung heroes of country music. Nobody said anything in the last couple of years about some of the guys like that going into the Country Music Hall of Fame. And I'm not in a position to say to the foundation or to the CMA — that's who nominates and puts the people in the Hall of Fame. I'm no longer on the board of directors of CMA which I was when it first started. And I've got a picture now and take up there and have it blown up and put up in the office because I want to be recognized. I was one of the original Country Music Association (CMA) members, and I was one of the guys who went out to California to talk Mr. Autry to join the Country Music Association, because they thought it was going to be just for Nashville. I went to Red Foley in Springfield, Missouri. I says, “Red, you got to be in the Country Music Association.” He says, “why, Pee Wee? It's all for Nashville — I'm here in Springfield now.”

The Country Music Association was formed back in the '40s, 1945 I'd say. The year after I talked Gene into joining the Country Music Association, they made him automatically the president — they needed a good leader. And he was youthful then, and he was full of vinegar. [vigor?] So, I used my contacts to bring in some people and to give the Country Music Association a prestige. And then Tex Ritter was president, and a disc jockey by the name of Connie B. Gay (??); he had a lot to do, too; he was a bookin’ agent and also a fine fellow with it; and he was the East Coast representative for a lot of the acts who came out there.

In fact, I remember I did a New Year's Day show and didn’t' have nothin' [anything] to do — played it in the airport — it was the one of a show for a business party who had got permission to use the Washington airport. That's where Connie McGee (??) was situated. And they had us come in and play at a dinner — music for them for a while and then put on a show. And Connie B. Gay says, “you'll be through by 6:30 or 7 o'clock.” He says, “maybe I can do somethin' else for you.” And I says, “like what?” He said, “how'd you like to take a boat ride?” And I says, “in December?! “He said, “why not?” He said, “that boat goes up and down that river here in Washington.” I says, “oh, no — just forget it.” So, it happened to be a very pretty weekend. And when we did our afternoon show, he said, “come on. I told the committee I'd put you on the boat if it was a beautiful day or night. If it wasn't, you wouldn't go on a boat.” And we played the boat ride. And we donated the money we got from the people there to Connie B. Gay's charity — favorite charity.

Sobel (??) — that was our bookin' agents up in New York. He was part of the bookin’ agency up there. He was responsible for our getting on the show. Imogene Coca and Cid Caesar were a very funny duet. I replaced them up in Cleveland; we couldn't do the show — we could do it under [the] ABC affiliate up in Cleveland. So, we were there on Monday to do our regular country music show, and then that was just locally, WEWS carried it. Now, when it came to doin' it on Wednesday nights, we stay there and then do a regular 'nother show — not the one that we did on Monday but do a Wednesday show complete[ly] different and more pop than we would do. In other words, I'd take some of the pop songs from the charts of Billboard and do them.

The show was called "The Pee Wee King Show." And it was the summer replacement for Cid Caesar and Imogene Coca for 26 weeks. We signed a contract for it. They brought me guests like Julius LaRosa, Kitty somebody--a lot of the singers who had previously had some big records. Oh, I had Eddy Arnold there, had Patti Page there, I had Mahalia Jackson .... I was the emcee — I fronted (??) the whole thing. It was strictly a variety show. I had the leader of The Ink Spots — he broke out by himself then and he wanted to be recognized — and Jack was bookin' him, so, I have a book that has all those people I had as guests.

That was big-time to be on national television. The Golden West Cowboys didn't wear cowboy hats for that show, but they wore cowboy hats for the Monday show. I wore Western wardrobe — they were flashy but not gaudy. They were toned down a little bit. We did some numbers, too. I usually had two or three guests; we just did a half-hour. That probably gave them one number to do a piece or else we would cut down.

Elvis was here in Louisville in '56. That was with Col. Parker. I met Elvis, we just visited and all that backstage. We didn't appear on the show. I mean a big crowd was there. It was at the old Armory — now the Louisville Gardens. When I got to meet Elvis personally that time, I had the whole family there. It was so funny because he was stayin’ at his grandmother and grandfather's house for a few hours to visit with them. And his grandfather played the fiddle. And his grandfather worked in the Coca-Cola box factory — they made cases for Coca-Cola. So, one day, out of a don't you just get a little group and I'll get you just a few dates around and you can go out like that and pick out any dates you want.

See, I still had a WAVE TV show even after I disbanded. Then I hired a couple of people around Louisville to go with me and we'd play Illinois or Indiana or somewhere like that and be home every night if we could. That's why I disbanded. And the boys were wantin' to rest, too, because we'd had about five divorces in the group, and you hate to break up families.

I've been in the entertainment industry since I was a kid. Financially, it was an unstable profession; I've never been able to predict what my income would be for a particular month, unlike many people. How'd you like to be booked at a fair and you'd get there and it's pouring down rainin' — on percentage! And you get nothing, so I don't know what it's like to have a regular salary. I don't think I could live that way — well, I figure I'm doin' what I love to do best and I think I’ve done real [really] well, fortunately, with the help of a lot of people. And it doesn't worry me like it used to.

At one time, there was a funny feeling when I counted how many people were eating because of my income. To pay the band, I had partner in Hollywood in the publishing business, Mr. Frank in Nashville bookin’ agent and a partner in the publishing business. Then I got the band to worry about and I don't know ... There were fifty-seven people dependent on me. Fifty-seven mouths — that includes families — some with three and four kids. Two of the guys lived in New York even.

I may have thought about it, but it didn't worry me too much at that time. But now when I look back at it — I've made that statement before. I said, “you'd think that a little cowboy band can feed fifty-seven people.” Oh, my secretary and her girlfriend, and then my brother and his family. That was a lot of weight on my shoulders, but I wore it well so far, thank God —the Man upstairs sure must have loved me because after I had my stroke, when I finally wound up being that way, I said, “why, me, Lord?” That bolt of lightning came down and says, “take it easy. Enjoy it while you can.” But then I turned right around after I got well and formed a little group in Louisville here. I got four or five of the best guys I knew in the country music field here, Jim Vest and his brother — a drummer — and a bass player — Chuck Wiggins. I wanted all the time with it.

And of course, Redd was startin’ to get itchy and go on his own, too, so he struck out on his own — he went to RCA Victor — got a record contract with Chet Atkins down there. And then he didn't want to go on the road anymore — he said he's going to kind of stick around with the family and everything, and I formed his group. I quit RCA Victor because I was going to take our publishing company and form a record company.

But in the interim, Paul Cohen, who was Owen Bradley's boss — Mr. Cohen was one of the biggest recording directors in New York, but he was living in Nashville — he spent most of his time there — for Decca Records. He had a stable like Who's Who in the Record Business, and he come [came] up to me one day and said, “did you leave Steve Scholtz?” I said, “yelp.” I said, “I didn't leave Steve Scholtz.”

A guy at Victor refused to let me have 50 records for promotion as a giveaway in Cleveland. And when I called New York and this guy says, “I don't give nobody [anybody] 50 albums.” Then I says, “you mean.” He says, “we don't even give Elvis Presley records out — he's on RCA Victor.” I says, ”well, I tell you what — you won't ever hear from me again.” He says, “why?” I says, “if I can't have 50 albums as promo here in Cleveland,” — one of the hottest TV shows they got here — and I had a hot record going called "Bimbo" (??) at that time, and they wouldn't give it to me because “Bimbo” was in that album record that I wanted. And I was going to give ‘em away. The brewery sponsor over there said, “if we had known you were going to quit, we would have bought the records.” “No, I said, I want it to be a gesture on our part — the Golden West Cowboys givin' their album away.”

I left RCA and went to Todd Records and Brier — Paul Cohen had two little record companies. So, then I made a record with Pee Wee King and the Lucky Seven. I only used seven boys. That was about 1955, '56. I'll let you hear the record that I made — you'll be surprised.

There is no security in entertainment — no financial security. But if you live long enough and save long enough and if you're thrifty, and if your family can do all it wants and be happy, I think when you've reached that peak — where else can you go? This is all I know; I know how to be an entertainer; I enjoyed myself at the Joliet show. I signed autographs as if I was 40 years old again.

And I've always enjoyed the camaraderie of the performers and the audience. Some of my best friends are the best artists, the friendship. It's like Mr. Autry said, he said, “kid, I've just realized it, — for our anniversary, Gene and Jackie had called and wished us Happy Anniversary.” And I said, “it's awful night [nice] for you to think about that.” And Jackie said, “well, it's true. You and Lydia make a fine couple — 55 years.” And Gene says, “I want to talk to the kid.” And she said, “well, just a minute.” And she talked with Lydia for a while and then Gene come [came] up. He says, “you know, what I want to say — I think you're the oldest living man that I know.” And he said, “I don't mean in age — I've known you longer than anybody else that's livin' today.” I says, “no, you know Lydia, too.” I says, “you've known Lydia longer than me.” He said, “yeah-but as far as the friendship, it's still there, you know.”

I've never gotten up and gone to the same job day after day at the same time day after day. I've never done the 9-5 routine in my life. I don't think I would have liked that. Like my uncle told me, he says, “you could come here from after school. “ Says, “you can work two hours and clean the pens, papers, wastebaskets and all that.” At the end of the week, I get five dollars. [chuckles] I play a wedding or dance or an entertainment festival somewhere and I'd have more than that in just two hours.But at least I could be sure I would get $5 if I emptied those wastebaskets for my Uncle Lawrence. But I might not always get $5 or $25 performing. So, it was a risk that I took. It's still a risk.

My career has been a risky one — we've had a few accidents. Not everybody has succeeded. I know at least 100 that haven't succeeded. I can name among my friends who started in the music [industry] and had to give it up. I think the most fortunate thing that happened to me was when I met Mr. Frank. I admired him a lot — I revered him for his knowledge of show business and his tact and approach to show business. With an honest approach-— never cheatin’ anybody. And he didn't want much — just [to] feed his family and all that. And I think some of that rubbed off on me because I've used a lot of his tactics.

I remember one theater manager I worked for up in Pennsylvania, and he booked me in a theater there, and I had my trick horse with me on the road at that time. I had thick rubber shoes on him. And Mr. Frank booked that [for me] and he said, “by the way, you're going to have to put rubber boots on to work that theater stage. But if you hit that stage and do a real good job, I can get you at least 14-15 theaters up there,” — that's a chain up there — Amaness (??) Theater chain. And I says, “ok, I'll do the best I can.” So up there, after the show was over, he said, “Mr. Frank is a jewel in the

rough.” He said, “There’s a hillbilly from Tennessee and he's managed people like Fibber McGee and Molly, the Hoosier Hot Shots, Gene Autry, now you, and Ernest and Roy and that.” He said, “well, what do you think of your father-in-law?” I says, “what do I think! — I think he's the best guy in the world. He said, He's sharp with a pencil.” He says, “sometimes I think he's got two pencil points.”

The deal he made with him — I got a flat rate against a percentage. We were out on the pistol (???) up there, playing them [those] fairs and all that, so we packed our house and everything. And yet with the horse, the kids wanted to come see the horse. There's a picture of me right on the horse. I guess they thought I was a singin' cowboy — I was just an entertainer.

A part of my success has been the way I've treated my audiences. The audience knows — they can feel if you're not going to stay and autograph — if you're going to sneak out the back door and go to a hotel, forget about it. But if you come out in the audience and say, “I'm going to stand right here in this corner by the wing and I’ll autograph until either the next show starts or until we empty the house.” And that's what we did up at Joliet. I always did that — always. I always courted my audience.

Marty Robbins was good with audiences. I'll tell you — the one thing I used to get a big kick out of — we'd be ridin' in somewhere and Marty would be on, and we'd tie that audience in a knot. And at 12 o'clock — it was almost a record shop. He said, “Ernest, I'm not going to do but about 15 more minutes — you don't mind, do you?” He says, “I'll make it up to you sometime.” [chuckles] “what, Ernest did you say, huh?” — “one more song? Ok, if that's the way you are, ok. Be that way.” And he has a charm — a way of saying that was on [the] radio. He's been dead six or seven years now. I made a film — one of his last appearances the year I did the pilot for the TV show. It shows off right away --the minute a guy says, “I don't autograph. I got another thing to do.” They freeze on you --they turn cold. The audience does. So, talent alone is not enough.