one more country anecdote

Charlie Daniels was the first man I ever met who wore a full beard. It was Frontier Days, I was four and he was drunk and stagger-eyed — the year was 1980 and this is how I remember him. He stumbled out of the Cheyenne Club, a gills-soaked watering hole known for its frequent fisticuffs and alcoholic imprudence. I was on the sidewalk with my mother, possibly returning from a parade–it was daytime and the sun burned. She asked for his autograph even though I didn’t want it, and he scribbled my name on a leaf of notebook paper while I hid behind her leg, terrified by his grizzly gait, black Stetson, acrid stench, booze face. Frontier Days is a synonym for drunk before noon and has been at least since my birth. I still can’t smell whiskey without recalling that moment. Still have the autograph, though.

This entry was posted in Opinion. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to one more country anecdote

  1. shnnn says:

    one of my early teenage jobs was working a season as a telemarketer for a fire fighter’s union selling tickets to a Charlie Daniels Band reunion show. I frequently had to say “you know, the devil went down to Georgia?” and then sing it until they’d be like “aw shee-it, sure”. This was in Kansas City – it wasn’t hard.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *