Doc Stevens

Tondeleo: Doc and Marilyn at last opened up to me a bit about their trip to Hawaii courtesy of their friend, Billy. It isn't that they weren't grateful, it's just that they know they went there, they liked it, and had a wonderful time playing music and meeting people, but they don't know much about Hawaii, even where it is.

But now we know a bit more about their holiday, not much, but at least a little.  And a lot of what they said was so confusing that I couldn't even make blog posts out of it. Sorry!

Tondeleo: Any last thoughts, Doc? Marilyn?

Marilyn: Well, some people that we met were like people here at home. Some tried to sell us weed at special prices, if we'd go home with them - well, not Doc, he wasn't invited, but it happened to me a few times... I don't smoke weed so I didn't take them up on it. They were really friendly, though.

Doc: And there was guys up on the North Shore what had some things to sell at pretty good prices, but they wanted to know my social security number and my mom's last name to make sure I was really who I said I was - and I told them who else could I be? They said it would prove I wasn't a cop. And they wanted that social security number and my mom's name from before she got married. I mean, THEY didn't know her back then! How's that gonna prove anything? But they wanted it before showing me any of the cool things they had for sale at cheap prices.

He said he had guitars, amps, phones, mp3 players, weed, knives, anything I wanted... and he'd take me to see it all if I would give him $20 for a finders fee, and the info he needed so he could check me out. He said it was because I was a immigrant.

I'm no dummy, Tondy. I asked him where he got his stuff and he said mostly it was things people left in their cars. That made sense.  I'd seen signs up there where the cops warned people not to leave things in their cars. So I knew he wasn't lying.

Then I asked him why he was selling his stuff so cheap and he said it was so he could buy ice! I told him you could buy a whole bag of ice for $2 back in Maryland. He just stared at me, Tondy! He couldn't believe it!

Tondeleo: Ummm... Doc, ice is a name for crystal meth, which is pretty popular... So did you do business with him, Doc?

Doc: Well, no. No, I didn't. Ever since I was young I had this special ability, some people even say it's a supernatural gift. I can listen to people and somehow know pretty soon if what they are saying is b.s.ing me or not.

In this case, I felt the incoming vibes and about that time I noticed some other guys behind the bushes with walkie-talkies. I thought, "And here he is trying to make ME prove I'm not a cop!" The dude what was trying to sell me stuff was telling me I had to go down this path with him. Then it was revealed to me that it was something to avoid and not get involved with. Just like that!

I wasn't tryin' to hurt his feelings or nothing but I had to back out. He got kind of mad, but he got over it when he realized I couldn't remember my social security number and I wasn't sure which mama whose name he wanted anyway. My birth mama, the mama what raised me, or the one what paid my bills... He called me a dumb Howie, which is not my name anyway and told me to get out of there.

I told him my motel was where I was heading to and I wouldn't stay even if he wanted me to, so we parted ways right then and there.

Tondeleo: Were you scared, Doc? 

Doc: Scared that I couldn't remember my social security number? No. I knew I had it wrote down back home. Scared that I wasn't sure which mama he meant? No, he coulda explained himself better if he hadn't been so pushy.

But I didn't like hurting his feelings, or of the other fellas that was hanging around in the bushes. I just walked back to the paved road and hitched a ride back with some other local guys what wanted to know if I wanted to party, which at that time I didn't. They wanted me to pay for their party which I did, because I didn't have anything to buy now that I couldn't remember my social security number... They was real nice and they laughed a lot and dropped me off about only a mile from me an' Marilyn's motel. They was really nice, them Hawaiians.

Marilyn: They truly WERE nice, Tondy! You should go there!

Tondeleo: One thing about rural Americans is that they want the same things that other people have, but they usually can't afford them, well unless they steal or sell drugs. For the rest, they have to figure out how to make things themselves or fix things so they can have nice things that we all like. Doc and his friends say that they have made so much out of so little for so long that they can make anything out of nothing now.

Doc, Big Dave, Marilyn and I were standing out front of Doc's house, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, and talking about how, all in all, life is pretty good. When you try to do the right thing, right things seem to happen for you.

Doc has an old Martin guitar  - 44 years old, to be precise - that he said just seemed to get worse over the years. It got to where it hurt his left hand to play it so he would use his old no-name guitar from the 1950's that he had paid $20 for ten or more years ago. 

Doc: A man needs several guitars for the different places he  plays. Like, out on the street you need a old beater guitar, because it might rain on you, or something might happen to it while you're walkin' from one place to another. You need a old beater electric and a old beater acoustic. but they still have to sound good. But they also can't look good enough that someone would try to steal them. You have to think about that. they have to LOOK like cheap garbage.

For a open mic, you need somethin' that might look a little better, and it's gotta sound good. For a paid gig, you need somethin' that looks pretty good and sounds real good. A 'lectric on for some, and a 'coustic for others. And that is what broke my heart with this old Martin gettin' worse over the years. Plus, after so many years, it's like a pet, like a friend. It gets all full of music from years of playin' and it wants to be played alot. But I could barely play it. It got to where it hurt my hands...

Tondeleo: And then, something happened!

Doc: Yeah, Tondy, I'm pretty excited about this! My Martin been getting worse and worse an' I all but stopped playin' it a few years ago. It didn't sound right, didn't feel right. The strings were too high, it was just gettin' issues. You know that I don't mind tearin' somethin' apart if I think I can fix it. but I am not dumb enough to tear an old Martin apart. I'd probably mess it up even worse. They definitely are not something I want to mess up.

That meant I needed to get ahold of some money and just find someone who can fix it. I know a couple old guys what can do that kind of work, but ain't neither one of 'em doin' it anymore, unless it's little things. They both are geniuses with wood and can make brand new acoustic guitars outta raw wood, so they ain't too interested in tearin' into somethin' like resettin' the neck on a 44 year old Martin. I don't blame 'em. I'm scared to do it too. So that meant I had to come up with two things.

I had to come up with some money and I had to come up with someone who could do the job. It don't do no good to have the money if they ain't no one what can do the work. I asked around and found out it was gonna cost at least $350 or $400 just to get it started bein' fixed, plus whatever else they found when they tore into it.

I sold an old Tele [Telecaster] to a boy down here and fixed a couple other 'lectrics for people what been buggin' me to do their work, and got some money in my pocket. Then I got Marilyn to look on the interweb for someone round here what could fix it. She found me a guy in Arlington over in Virginia, what is about an hour from here. Close enough.

Marilyn: You know how Doc is, Tondy! He's not scared of anything or anybody, but he's scared of computers! He's scared he'll mess something up, or that he won't know what to do - which is true. I think he's scared to admit that he COULD learn something like doing a Google search, but then if he DID learn how to do it, he wouldn't need me anymore - which also isn't true! He can't even balance his checkbook! 

Doc: I ain't scared of no 'puter and I ain't need a checkbook. I pay in cash. So what do I need a 'puter and checkbook for?

Marilyn: Well, when you don't know something, you're pretty quick to call me in a panic and ask me to find out for you! And every month when you're trying to figure out how to pay your bills you seem to need to balance a checkbook!

Doc: Anyway, Tondy, what I was TRYING to say was, Marilyn found this guy. I asked her a bunch of questions and she read me the answers off his interweb page and the answers sounded good. She gave me his number and I called.

Marilyn: I had to MAKE him call! Doc wanted to hop in his truck and just show up with his messed up guitar. Luckily the man didn't put his whole address and luckily we don't have a map of Arlington, and luckily I wasn't available to go anywhere - and Doc doesn't like to go anywhere alone!

Doc: Sure, Marilyn... Now here's what's crazy. Most these people ain't gonna do much work between Christmas and New Years, but I called this one on Tuesday, what was the 29th an' he said to bring it on over. I got my friend George Edelen who is the best guitar player I know round here, and we rode over there.

The guy's name is Daniel. You can tell by lookin' at him that he's smart and also by listenin' to him when he talks. He knows guitars inside and out. He looked at my Martin and pointed out a bunch of things that it needed, and said what it needed wasn't a neck reset which made me feel better right then, but it needed some other things, a lot of little things, and it would cost less than a neck reset.

He talked all about guitars he's made, and all kinds of different wood and what it does to the sound and a bunch of other stuff that was interesting and I learnt alot. Me and George left and both felt good about having Daniel work on it. I figured it's be a couple of weeks, but no! He called me the next afternoon, and it was all done! I couldn't get up there to pick it up right then, but it was done! I couldn't believe my ears, Tondy!

Tondeleo: That's fantastic, Doc!

Doc: What's fantastic ?

Tondeleo: It's fantastic that he took it in right away. It's fantastic that he knew so much, and that he didn't take advantage of you. It's fantastic that he got it done so quickly. It's fantastic that you actually paid someone else to do something for you that was beyond your capabilities...

Doc: Oh yeah. I guess it IS fantastic. I just don't use that word, Tondy.  Anyway, he got it on Tuesday, called me that it was done Wednesday and I got it on Thursday, the last day of 2015. He made it perfect again. For me to tell, because I don't have that much brains, I had to pick it up and close my eyes an' play it and feel what it is doing in my hands and how the vibes are. it was just like it was a long time ago! it was just right. I could not in my wildest dreams think it could be that good and be done that fast, but it was true. Plus he kept to his price what he had told me and didn't all a sudden jack it up when he saw how happy I was with it.

He taught me a few things about fixin' guitars so I could do better on fixin' the kinds I fix - cheap old pieces of crap! Well, that's about it, Tondy except this: He asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee that was better than any coffee I'd ever had, and I figured that he thought I ain't never been to a 7-Eleven before. But he was nice so I played along.

But guess what? We didn't go to no 7-Eleven! Daniel gets his own coffee beans raw off of some dude an' then roasts them right there at his house and then grinds 'em up right there, and makes coffee in a itty bitty little silver coffee pot what he screws together an' puts on the stove. Ok, he didn't lie about that coffee. It was the best coffee I have ever had in my life. I am thinkin' about breakin' one of my guitars just so I can go back over there for some more of that coffee. Seriously.

Oh, here's his info, Tondy. Put all of it on the blob what you type:
Daniel Carbone

Tondeleo: This is a continuation of the discussion that Doc, Big Dave and I had about  open mics, and how to do them better, even WHY to do them in the first place, and any and every other tip that came up.

Doc: When you get a new song that you think people would like - and it ain't just you that's gotta like it, you got to be thinkin' about your audience. Are they gonna be able to like that song from the first couple of bars they hear? 

You don't never want to play a song that it takes people a while to figure out if they like it or not. It's got to be one that from the moment they hear it, they like it.

I got a lot of songs what I like and might sing by myself, or with a couple of friends, but I would never play
them in front of an audience. Like we play "downhome" music - that mix of blues and gospel and country and rockabilly. That's what I like and play in public. But sometimes Marilyn might want to sing some song what isn't that kind of music, She'll nag me and nag me 'til I play it along with her. It could be anything, of any kind of music. But we ain't playin' it in public.

Tondeleo: What would be an example of a song like that, Doc?

Doc: Well, she might like to sing that song "Blue Bayou" by that Linda Rondstadt girl. It ain't our kind of music what we play, but it's a good song. Marilyn been singin' that since she was maybe 12 or 13. She got it inside her, so she could sing that anywhere anytime.  But we ain't playin it as part of a show. But we could, 'cause we got it inside.

Tondeleo: So why don't you sing it in public? 

Doc: Well, whatever music you play, people think of you a certain way. You kinda got to stick with that. We pretty much don't play anything newer than about 1954. We do that "downhome" music.  We ain't a cover band. Anything from the sixties is too new, 'specially if it was a hit. Now there is some songs what was wrote in the 60's but sounded like they was old and if they sound right, we'll do 'em. Some of what we do is "B" sides of songs what was hits. But they had to be songs what I liked from the first couple of notes. Then if I start to play one of 'em in front of my friends, they had to like it from the first couple of notes. And it has to SOUND like something we'd do. 

Tondeleo: Are you saying that it has something to do with your image? 

Doc: I guess. Basically, you got to look like what you sound like and sound like what you look like. If you look like just regular workin' folk like we do, then you need to sound like that. It would be crazy to sound like Elvis Presley or someone smooth and sophisticated. We're down to earth. The way we sound is just the way we sound. People ask where did we get our sound. That is just what it sounds like when we play guitars and sing.

I think everybody sings and plays things that's from another kind of music than what they might play in public. Country guys might sing heavy metal, or hip hop or jazz or whatever. Hippety hop guys might sing smooth jazz or gospel or whatever in private. But not in public.

Tondeleo: Now, you mentioned that Marilyn sings newer stuff at home.Specifically you mentioned Blue Bayou. Say, if she got dressed up in city clothes, and you did, too, would that song measure up in terms of being a song that people would like from the first few notes?

Doc: Well, yeah. An' if we didn't use our real names! I ain't goin' out there with my real name and play some kind of pop music or somethin'! But as for that Blue Bayou song, as soon as you hear the first couple of bars of it, you like that song. It's got a good beat, got a good sound to it and is easy to sing along with. It's a simple song, good tune. It passes every test of a song what  person could do in public an' people would like it and sing along, tap their feet and clap their hands to it. It's a great song, if you got it inside you.

We sang that song in Hawaii an' people liked it.

Tondeleo: HAWAII??? Are you SURE? You went to Hawaii? Do you even know where it is? 

Doc: Yeah, we went to Hawaii. Last year when you was  out there in that England. Someone paid for us to go out there, not the whole band, just me an' Marilyn. We got on an aeroplane and flew there. It took like all day to get there. But there wasn't no girls in grass skirts and coconuts though. It was real nice over there, an' the people out there was real nice to us. We was out there a couple of weeks an' then came home. We met a lot of people an' played a lot of songs. Marilyn gots some pictures from there she can give you. We can talk about it later. Not now.

Tondeleo: Why didn't you SAY something about going to Hawaii? That's fantastic. 

Doc: I was sort of 'barrassed about it. I hadn't never been there before an' wasn't used to it. I was afraid you'd ask me questions what I don't know the answer to. Them people wear flip flops an' Hawaiian shirts all the time, but they just call 'em shirts. We can talk about it later, Tondy. Not now. Get back to open mic. I know a little about that.

Tondeleo: Ok, so how about stage fright, Doc? How does a person avoid that?

Doc: By bein' too dumb to be scared! That's one way. Another way is if you are nearsighted, don't wear your glasses. Then you can't see nobody. Third is to know what you're plain' well enough that you aren't using your mind, but just playin' out of your heart. Like, you have played it and sang it so many times you can do it all automatically without thinkin'. That's what we done in Hawaii. We ain't know nobody out there, an' they all looked at us like we was from outer space or somethin'.

But, like, if you know the song is a good one and people are gonna love it, and you've done it so many times you can do it with your eyes closed, then they ain't nothin' to be scared of.

Oh yeah, one more thing. Don't try to sound like the person who made the song famous. You'll never sound like them, all you will sound like is you tryin' to sound like someone else. Then who are you gonna sound like for the next song? You wanna listen to the original just enough to kind of learn it. Then start playin' it and never listen to the original. By and by, you'll have changed a bit here and a bit there, and soon it will sound like you and not like the other person. Now, nobody has anything to compare you with, like "hey, on the second verse, you forgot to sing out your nose like Bob Dylan did when he sang that song."

Well, if I learnt that song 20 years ago and ain't  listened to it since then, I aint gonna sound like him on ANY verse! I'm gonna sound like Doc Stevens and Marilyn is gonna sound like Marilyn. And nobody is better at that than us! 'Specially over to that Hawaii.

Tondeleo: We've been talking with Doc and his lifelong friend, Big Dave about growing up in poverty, and having to make do with very little in the way of food, clothes, money and other material goods. There was not only financial and material poverty, but also the poverty of family live and support, the poverty of emotional support and poverty of opportunity.

I've been interviewing Doc and Big Dave for three evenings, and will be publishing excerpts from our several hours of talking. 

Big Dave, you talked about your father being in and out of jail, and having bad health, and alcohol problems. How did that affect you growing up?

Big Dave: Well, you learn not to depend on nobody for nothing. The old man might promise to get you something say for your birthday or Christmas, and you learn not to get your hopes up. He mighta been lying, just BS'ing you, to get you to be quiet. Or, he mighta meant it at the time. You never can know. He mighta said he'd get you a present for Christmas because he had just got paid. 

But that didn't mean he'd get you anything. He mighta needed that money to pay back a loan. Or to pay the light bill. He mighta just drank that money away or smoked it up. Then when Christmas would roll around, you would half hope he'd a gotten you something, but you knew not to get your hopes up. 

If he'd remember to get you a Slim Jim or a candy bar, you'd done all right. Or, he mighta got drunk on Christmas eve and be somewhere else. or in jail. You never could tell. 

Mama would call the churches right before Christmas and try to get something for each of us. Sometimes that worked out pretty good. Sometimes not. Some years she waited too late and there wasn't nothin' left for us.  Sometimes the toys they gave needed batteries and we'd never have money for batteries, so we'd just use them the best we could.

We ain't never had a Christmas tree. We decorated a tree stump out back... 

Tondeleo: How about you, Doc? How did growing up poor affect you and your family?

Doc: I don't really know, Tondy, 'cause that is all we knew. We didn't know what it was like to have nice clothes, or new clothes. But it never crossed out minds to get brand new clothes. People at the church gave clothes to us, in big black plastic garbage bags. We got some stuff from the thrift shop. That's just where we figured clothes came from. We didn't even know about so many things that the rich kids had. They lived in a different world. Kind of a sissy world, if you ask me. But we learnt things they didn't learn.

Tondeleo: Things like what, Doc?

Doc: Well, we learnt not to cry every time we got hurt. We learnt that you could fall down and cut yourself and be bleeding, but that didn't mean you had to cry. That was a good thing.

Tondeleo: You didn't CRY? Why on earth not, Doc?

Doc: Well, the old man didn't like to hear cryin,' and said to save cryin' for somethin' bigger than a cut or bruise or a knot on your head. He said you could get hurt and not say or do nothin', and he did that all the time. You never knew if he was hurt. And he was right. You can get cut or hurt or whatever and not cry.

We learnt not to be picky about eatin'. Food don't have to taste good or be your favorite. Food ain't s'posed to be entertainin', food is fuel. If you're hungry, you'll eat it. Don't matter if it's so called good or not. We learnt to eat anything and everything, Tondy!

Big Dave: We learned how to fight. Rich kids didn't know how to fight, and as soon as they'd get hit, they'd bust into tears and start crying like babies! We learned to fight because we had older brothers who picked on us, neighbors, teenagers, everybody. So we had to defend ourselves. Fightin' aint somethin' you'd choose to learn when you're little, but it pays off when you get to school and people are makin' fun of you because you're poor. You can only take so much, and then you gotta do something about it. 

I remember the rich kids takin' karate lessons. They'd PAY  and go every week to a class where they wore pajama's and then played like they was fightin' in slow motion. We never put on pajamas to fight and I aint never been in a fight in slow motion.

The teachers and principals didn't agree with us given a whoopin' to some snooty rich kid, but ain't no one ever made fun of the teachers and principals. They was probably the ones makin' fun of poor kids when they was in school...

Doc: Yeah, and they was the ones gettin' beat up by us poor kids when they was makin' fun of us and laughin' at us. So when they grew up and got good jobs, they'd always take sides with the rich kids who was laughin' at us.

It ain't fair, but we learned how to not care about fair, 'cause fair ain't nothin' that's ever gonna happen to a poor person.

Tondeleo: Whatever did they laugh at you and mock you for?

Doc: How we looked, how we talked, how we dressed, where we lived. You name it. Our house was a shack compared to where they lived. But it was home, for us.

And, we couldn't go to a barber shop so mama cut our hair with scissors. She wasn't too bad at it, but the rich kids laughed at us for that. Same with our clothes. They was all hand me downs, and didn't fit too good. Either too big or too small. Sometimes they was a little smelly from the last person what owned 'em and sweated a lot. Or, maybe someone gave us jeans and they was woman or girl jeans but we didn't know the brand names, so we wore them anyway.

In gym class, it would be the underwear. I ain't wearin' no thrift shop underwear, so mama made our underwear outta old t shirts or pillow cases. She'd make 'em like shorts and put a draw string around the waist. That's the way they did it in the old days which is why underwear is called "drawers," but ain't no one at school was interested in that.

The girls don't wanna go out with someone what is poor or has homemade underwear. So we had to pick from other poor girls when we got interested in girls and all that goes with it, if you know what I mean.

Big Dave: I ain't never wanted to date some prissy girl anyway. I liked a girl who could hunt and fish and fight better than some cream puff rich girl who thought she'd get dirty if she let you touch her...and sometimes they would get dirty if I touched 'em!

Bein' poor, you learnt how to fix things instead of throwin' them away. If you couldn't fix something, you could learn how to use it broken or you could make something else out of it. That's how Doc got all his early guitars. Puttin' broken ones together...

Tondeleo:  It must have been hard to grow up poor...

Doc: Times was hard, and still are, but you're gonna grow up whether you are rich or poor. You got to learn how to laugh, too. We learned how to laugh at everything.

We were so poor, when we went to KFC we licked other peoples' fingers... you got to laugh at what problems you can't solve.

And  guess what, Tondy? We all made it! We ate, we fought, we cried a little bit, we made things, we fell in love with poor girls, got our hearts broke by them and probally broke a few hearts, and here we are!

Marilyn: We got it so we can play just me and Doc, or Just Rick and Doc, just me, Rick and Doc, just Rick and Doc, just me, Doc, Rick and Jerry or any part of the band and we can give them a good show, can't we, Doc?

Doc: Yeah, it ain't an issue. Sometimes a whole band will back us up, if it is just one or two of us. Like we played over to a place in Waldorf an' everyone but Handsome Brian the Bishop Garner, our drummer could make it. We weren't gonna cancel 'cause of that. And we weren't playin' without a drummer.

So when we got there, we started askin' around, and Jerry found a drummer named Bradley who was playin' with another group. I think he turned out to be from Bowie, MD, up the road about an hour.

We talked to him a bit about how we sound and what kind of music we do, and when we got up, Bradley got up with us and played just like he'd been with us for years.

Marilyn: He was truly anointed and that is what makes the difference so it can sound like he had been with us forever. The Holy Ghost was in him and the Holy Ghost HAS been with us forever, and He knows all our songs and just played them through Bradley. 

Doc: That, and Bradley is a good drummer in the first place. We never seen him before and ain't seen him since. But if we're out somewhere and need a drummer and he is there, we'll ask him up to play again.

Tondeleo: But doesn't that make you at least a tad nervous? That would give me an ulcer!

Marilyn: NO, you got to have faith, Tondy, you got to have faith.

Doc: Marilyn's right. You gotta have faith, and then open your mouth and ask around. You'll find the people you need! 

Tondeleo: Whenever I hear Doc and Marilyn and the band play, I always hear songs that I have never heard before in  my life. Some of what they play I have heard somewhere before, but most of it is new to me. They sing a lot of originals, but a lot of what they do, Doc says is old stuff, stuff that everybody ought to know. 

But I have asked other musicians at venues and events where they play, and other musicians also shake their
heads and say they have no idea where Doc and Marilyn's songs come from. Like me, they are familiar with some of them, or others they might say they might have heard when they visited their grandmum's house years ago, but they basically don't know where the songs come from, or why they are played the way they are.

Doc: I play the songs I love and I play them how I feel them. Marilyn does, too. That's it. I don't never try to play it like the original 'cause I couldn't anyway. Matter o'  fact, the original artists ain't play them again like they did on the record - 'cept for George Thorogood, cause he always plays it word for word, note for note from the record to one concert to the next - but everybody else changes it from one time to the next, depending on their mood.

Like, when the original group is recording, they might do five or ten takes of the song. Finally, they get enough of it right that they can mix it into a song. But all of those takes ain't identical. Close, but not identical. Then when you hear the group play live, they always change it up a bit from the record as we know it.

But the deal is this. They don't sound just like the record, but they always sound like themselves, not somebody else. So if I play it or you play it or someone else plays it, why are we supposed to sound like the original band did on that one take that came out as the final release?

Guess what? We ain't gonna sound like them if we tried. Maybe close, but mostly not. The voice will be different, the tone will be different, other things will be different. But worse than that, we won't even sound like ourselves! I ain't gonna be happy tryin' to sound like someone else and failin'! I might as well sound like me and play the way I feel it.

If I don't like a song, I ain't gonna sing it. I ain't gonna play it, neither. If I DO like it, I'm gonna FEEL it. And that is the only way I'm gonna play it. Marilyn's the same way. So's the rest of the band. That's how we all got together in the first place. We just play what we love and play it the way we feel it. Most of what we play, the rest of the band ain't never heard the original anyway.

Tondeleo: So, WHERE do you get your material? Most of us have never heard these songs before... 

Doc: Well, Tondy, some of them I grew up hearin' from my relative's record players, at family gatherin's and such. Others I found on records what we got from the landfill, what other people was throwin' away. Some was so scratched up I had to make up the words where they wasn't playin' right, and I still don't know the right words.

Others were just songs that we all sang growin' up, when we'd get out the instruments and all sing together. Uncles, aunts, cousins, grandma, grandpa, neighbors and friends. A lot of 'em we got from church. Gospel concerts, fish fries and other things at church, you know, picnics, barbecues and all that.

Pentecostal churches always have good music. You can learn alot by goin' to a Pentecostal church. Jerry Lee Lewis, he came from a Pentecostal church. Elvis did, too. Aretha was a church girl. Otis Redding came from church, and Little Richard. Some of them's daddies was preachers. A lot more came from churches and that is where they learnt to play and sing and perform at.

Like with Marilyn, some of the songs she grew up with, she never heard the original. She just heard me an' my friends play 'em or heard them at church, and that's how she thought they was supposed to sound. Then later, she mighta heard one of them on a jukebox somewhere, and she'd say, "Uncle Doc, I heard 'I Believe To My Soul' on the jukebox today and it didn't sound right!"

I'd tell her that it sounded right for that take in the recording studio when that band recorded it; sounded right for them that time. the way we play it sounds right for us, at whatever time we sing it. She's old enough now that she gets it, but when she was 12 or 13, she just figured that our way was right and the other ways were wrong!

It's easier to play a song if you only play it the way you feel it whenever you play it. You're not tryin' to copy anybody, and you're free to holler it as you feel, and play it for as long as it takes for you to be done with it. That's how we do it, anyway.

Tondeleo: One thing that Doc and Marilyn are kind of known for is that they use instruments that aren't very nice. I have been with them when they show up at events with other bands. In the same way that women size each other up by looking at their shoes and purses, bands size each other up by looking at each others' equipment. 

This has always been a sore spot for Doc and Marilyn and the band, because for years all Doc had was home made guitars that he made by re-purposing old parts that people gave him, and fixing warped or broken necks. He learnt how to mix and match pickups until he got the sounds he liked, and how to put slab wood into the wooden boxes he would use for the guitar bodies, but still, his guitars and amps were clearly not commercially made. Now, there are times when they use regular instruments like other bands, and they don't feel as self conscious...

Doc: Yeah, well, you get used to people with nice stuff lookin' down on you, Tondy. It ain't nothin' new. Like when I was in school we got made fun of for bein' poor. People lagh at you if your clothes are torn or don't fit right. In high school, the girls went for the boys who had store-bought underwear and cars and money. We had to make do with what we had.

But we learned how to work hard and make a penny stretch. My daddy used to say that two of his uncles invented copper wire... they were fightin' over a penny. But, yeah, we had bad hair. Mama cut our hair with scissors so it never looked right. That's why we wore hats when we could. We had hand me down everything.

And that's where I learned to make guitars from. My first one was a diddly bow. It was a board about 3 feet long and a wire stretched tight between two eye screws. Then, Daddy showed me how to put a single edge razor into a block of wood and put it under the string. When you slide the block of wood with the razor in it back and forth it makes the notes higher and lower. That was the beginning.

Later when the boys at school started gettin' guitars for their birthdays and Christmas, I started wantin' a guitar real bad. Well, as the other boys would break their guitars or tore them up, I'd get them from 'em for a couple dollars and bring 'em home and try to fix them. I'd take 'em apart and use whatever I could to try to get somethin' I could play. 

We had old wooden boxes sittin' around and I started usin' those for guitar bodies...

Tondeleo: What kind of boxes?

Doc: Boxes like dinner knives came in, that mama would pick up at the thrift shop, or what other things came in. I picked out ones that was the right size and then figured out how to make 'em play good and sound good.

Tondeleo: Did you ever build cigar box guitars?

Doc: Yeah, sure I did. But I didn't like 'em too much. They are small, so you got to have a shorter neck and that makes 'em harder to keep tuned. Plus, they didn't have so good of tone or sustain. I like sustain. Cigar boxes aren't too strong and I kept breakin' 'em.

I started makin' guitars out of tackle boxes back in the 90's 'cause they are strong, cheap and the right size for a full size neck and three pick ups... plus I got room for a couple sandwiches and drinks in them, and a guitar cord. I still got one of my first tackle box guitars.

I still make guitars out of smaller boxes. Some people like smaller guitars for when they're ramblin' around or whatever. I sell 'em or trade 'em for somethin' they have that I might want.

I like makin' bigger guitars, with six strings - my cigar box sized ones also got 6 strings - so you can actually play a whole show with 'em. They ain't a novelty for me, Tondy, they are tools.

Tondeleo: What do you do to get them to sound so good. I hear that all the time from other musicians, that your box guitars sound good and play well.

Doc: Well, first of all, I balance 'em pretty good, so the neck ain't heavier than the body. I put in a slab of like two inch thick wood inside, so they feel right and so they sustain real good. Also, I ain't stuck on one kind of pick up. I mix and match til I find some that I like how they sound together. Same with the pots.  On the necks, I usually just use a regular guitar neck, but sand it down til it is slimmer and has better action. Like I said, these ain't toys to me. They are what I use when I play.

Tondeleo: Tell us how you use those home made guitars to get other guitars.

Doc: Well, I'll be playin' somewhere, and someone hears my home made guitar, and then they want to play it for themself. Sometimes, they want to trade one of their store bought guitars for it, and if I like what they got, I'll do it. If not, then I don't. I got a couple of old Telecasters out of that over the years, and some other guitars. Got a couple steel guitars. Some acoustics, too. 

I done that with amps, too. I got some that I put together from old parts and speakers and they sound real good. If people want to trade for somethin' that I like, I'll do it. Last Summer, a guy traded me a  100 watt Marshall 410 cabinet and amp for an old tube amp I had what was only 60 watts. He's happy and I'm happy. Got a 100 watt Peavey Valve King 410 the same way. Our lead player Jerry only had a small amp, so I got that one for him to play with. Those amps are louder and sound good. I'm a tradin' fool!

Least now, if I need to have a real store bought guitar somewhere, I got a couple I could bring so people ain't starin' at me all the time.

Tondeleo: One thing that Doc and Marilyn and the band are very strong about s getting along well with other musicians. Some musicians I have met have an "I don't care what they think; they're not coming to our shows or buying our merch" attitude. And while that may be true, and while musicians definitely can have attitudes towards other musicians and bands, I have found that Doc and Marilyn and their band aren't at all like that. They don't seem to comprehend the idea of competitiveness.I quizzed them about why they don't compete with other musicians and seem to like everybody...

Doc: Well, first of all, a man needs all the friends he can get...

Marilyn: So do girls, Tondy...

Doc: ...and we ain't competin' with nobody. Alot of bands and players are competin', an' that is where they can get an attitude toward other people.

Tondeleo: Competing for what, Doc?

Doc: Well, depends on what kind of music they're playin. Mostly, competin' for gigs, bookin's. Like, if you and five other bands are all tryin' to play at, say, the local bar or club, and you know only one's gonna get it, amd another band is undercuttin' you, you might get mad or ...

John Hungerford from Hometown Band inspects one of Doc's homemade guitars. Bill Hull from The Roadhouse Band looks on benevolently. In the background is Paco Blake from Hometown Band.

 Marilyn:  At least get your feelings hurt...

Doc: Yeah, or feelings hurt if someone else takes your gig away. Especially if they's not as good as you. Even more if they play the same kind of music you play. So, you got your set list and you're good at it, an' then the place stops callin' you so you go down there since NOW you got nothin' to do on Friday night, an' they're pretty much playin' your set list. And not as good as you. You might decide right then and there you don't like them.
You prob'ly need the money to keep the lights on or to pay some bills, and now these other people are playin' your show, and you feel like they're takin' food outta your mouth.

Marilyn: That hurts. Especially when you need some new shoes or jeans or something. Money's tight for everybody.


Doc: So that's one reason you might not like the other band. Another reason is just because they might have an attitude or something like that.

Marilyn: Like a pre-Madonna attitude. 

Doc: We're pretty lucky 'cause we aren't in that situation so none of it matters to us. We play what's in our hearts, and we play it how it sounds in our hearts, and we're already broke, so ain't nobody playin' what we play... and we don't have a set list.

Marilyn: Me and Rick have a list of a couple hundred songs we might pick from, but we never know what is coming next. Doc basically just sings what comes up in his spirit, and that might bring something to my mind, so I might sing that next...

Tondy: Marilyn, why is it that only you and Rick have song lists and nobody else in the band does?

Marilyn: Well, me and Rick need them 'cause we play harp and we need to know what key the different songs are in. Brian is the drummer, so he doesn't need to know any of that. Jerry on lead guitar doesn't know what key he is playing in and neither does Jay on the bass. They just play. But me and Rick need to know, because you have to have the right harp for the right key.

Doc: Yeah, we pretty much go by what the crowd is responding to, and then change it up as we find out what they really like. We might get booked as playin' blues, and then find out what they really like is old country music. Or rockabilly. Or even Gospel. Or rockabilly Gospel! You can't never tell up front. So how you gonna have a set list for that? I cain't read and play guitar at the same time anyway.

When it comes to other bands, once they look at us and hear us, they know we aint any kind of competition for them, and we could not steal their bookin's or their audience, so it's a lot easier to get along.

Some of the bands we are friends with heard us somewhere, or heard us busking or playin' out on the streets, and invited us inside to play with them. You're not gonna be a mic hog when people have been good to you.

A lot of these bands can sound just like the records. We can't do that. we have a hard enough time just sounding like us. So we think real high of a band that can sound like a whole lot of different groups and singers. People don't even realize how much work that is and how much talent it takes.

They can tell we look up to them, and that helps a lot. Most of them have good equipment, which we don't. Plus, we don't even play the places where most the bands play. We mostly do festivals, conferences and conventions... community events...

Marilyn: Civic events, church anniversaries, fish fries, barbecues...

Doc: and pig pickin's and family reunions. I like playin' wherever they feed us. So's the band.

And since we don't play what the other bands are playin', we don't sound like anyone, we don't look like anyone, it just makes it easier to get along, play a lot of music and be friends. And, we feel the songs we sing and we let it show. If we're feeling a song, you're gonna know it, and were not gonna hide it. I cry sometimes when singin' a sad song, 'cause I feel it in my heart. Marilyn does too. Sometimes if I'm singin' and cryin', she starts cryin' 'cause she feels sorry for me up there cryin'! She's a good girl, Tondy.

But whatever we play and however we do it, it ain't never a threat to other bands and singers. so we all get along. We like everybody, Tondy. you know that.