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WAYLON
He is mysterious, an extremist, doggedly independent, paradoxical, intelligent, and absolutely dedicated to his work. He lives by his own bent, and he happens to sell more records than anyone in Country Music - with two platinum and nine gold albums to his credit. His latest album, "I've Always Been Crazy," last fall achieved recognition as the first album in Country Music history ever to be certified as a gold record the week it shipped to record stores.
I had wanted to talk to Waylon Jennings for a long time. Take away the music, and the man still remains one of the few interesting people on the loose these days.
There are easier things to do in life than nail down a Waylon interview. But I finally got the session set up after a few false starts, a few high-level phone calls, and a little luck. After six weeks of negotiations, an RCA representative calls late one day and tells me to be over there the next morning at 10 sharp. Now I'm forever trying to figure out if stiff preparation or raw instinct best serves a writer in conducting interviews. But it so happens that by 10 o'clock the next morning, I have run head on into the unbending truth - I have only a vague notion of what to say to Waylon. The savior of this day will have to be instinct.
I had already considered the wisdom of the scheduled 10 a.m. appointment time, so I'm not surprised when RCA Publicist Jerry Flowers greets me in his office on the second floor and informs me that Waylon will be late. Here we go again, I thought. But just as I'm settling down on Jerry's couch with a hot cup of coffee, the phone rings. Waylon wants to speak to me.
"Bob, this is Waylon. I'm gonna be a little late."
"That's all right, Waylon. I got here a little late myself. It's nice of you to call. I appreciate it."
"Hey hoss, it's your time. I'll be over there in about 10 minutes."
I'll admit this softened me up a bit. Even though I have always identified with Waylon's music, I didn't know what to expect of the man himself. Stories float around about the surliness of some of his hired hands . . . stories of organizational paranoia concerning outsiders . . . of drugs, of Neil Reshen, Waylon's manager, a man with a sinister reputation. However, I've decided I can get along with Waylon.
Waylon arrives.
Introduced, we both pull up a chair in the deep mahogany, RCA second-floor conference room. Waylon is a good-sized man, and I do believe he can handle himself just fine. He looks a little worse for wear on this warm October morning, and he tells me he has been up all night.
Some weeks earlier, through a stroke of incredible luck, I had traveled to New Orleans for the third resurrection - namely, the World Heavyweight Championship bout between Muhammad Ali and a kid named Spinks. I had noticed Waylon down there, and this seemed like as good a time as any to take a reading on Waylon's interest in boxing and in Muhammad Ali. Waylon informs me he loved the fight, has been to several championship fights, and he LOVES Ali.
Waylon recalled visiting Ali in his dressing room before the fight. And he related a small gem of a story concerning the fabled wit of the Champ.
"Ali was just a super person. We were sitting on a bench a few minutes before the fight, and the television people kept trying to shove me out of the way so they could film Ali. After a little bit, Ali said in that joking way of his:
'Waylon! Don't let 'em talk to you like that! Slap 'em! Slap 'em, Waylon!' "
Continuing the story, Waylon said the TV folks appealed to Ali to help them keep the area cleared, saying they were under severe pressure.
"YA'LL are under pressure!" mocked Ali.
A few days later, Richie Albright, Waylon's co-producer and drummer, would tell of Ali stopping Waylon as he was leaving the dressing room and complimenting him on his music. Richie added that Waylon apparently was deeply moved by his meeting with Ali and said little for the next two days.
Seeing how I had struck the right lode, I used the subject of heroes to fire up a conversation with the man who has altered the face of country music.
CAMPBELL: Do you have any heroes?
JENNINGS: Muhammad Ali is my hero. He really is. I think he is the greatest thing to happen in twenty years. My dad is my hero, and he comes first. And old Johnny Cash is one of my heroes. He is a great man. And Richie Albright. He is my drummer. Without him, I couldn't have made it.
CAMPBELL: Hasn't he been with you a long time?
JENNINGS: Fifteen years. He had to go back and get his health one time. He took almost a year off. I was planning on quitting.
CAMPBELL: You were planning on quitting music?
JENNINGS: It was about six years ago.
CAMPBELL: Didn't you have hepatitis?
JENNINGS: Yeh. I was broke and about $600,000 in debt, and it just looked like it was all over, you know. That's when Richie came to me and said, "I know you are fixing to quit. Don't do it. Let's give one more run at it, and if it don't work, we'll go somewhere and get us a sit-down job. I've got someone you need to meet." That's when he brought in Neil Reshen. Neil is a genius. Me and Willie . . . we were through, you know. We were just up against a brick wall. Neil took us in and fed us and loaned us money, and he didn't know if he was ever gonna get it back. But he had faith in us, and it was hard to find any place to put faith.
CAMPBELL: Was that when Willie was on Atlantic?
JENNINGS: No. That was before that. But that same day that Richie brought Neil to me . . . on the way to the airport, we saw Willie. I told Neil about Willie, and I had already made a deal with Neil. He saw Willie, and Willie made a deal with him the very same day. You know Neil is from New York, and there was that Yankee thing and the South thing . . . Where did you grow up?
CAMPBELL: I'm from East Texas. I grew up in a little place called Kilgore.
JENNINGS: Ain't nobody from Kilgore.
CAMPBELL: Bob Luman's from Kilgore.
JENNINGS: There you are! I'm from Littlefield, Texas - in the suburbs of a cotton patch.
CAMPBELL: That's in West Texas, right?
JENNINGS: Yeh. Anyway, there was that thing at first about somebody from New York. Fast-talking New York manager. But that fast-talking New York manager is one of the best people I've ever known. And between him and Richie and Jessi (Colter), I have somehow stayed together.
CAMPBELL: I have admired your music for a long time, and I used to go see you at Panther Hall in Fort Worth in the late sixties. I knew you had encountered problems with record autonomy, but I had no idea you had gotten to the point where you were thinking about quitting.
JENNINGS: I had already made up my mind. I never could conform, you see. I think there was a big misunderstanding. We didn't understand each other. I think Chet Atkins is a genius. Some of the best records I have ever cut have been with Chet. And I had my other problems. But I had to go through all that stuff because of me. I wasn't trying to prove anything. I think some people thought I would destroy things if I had the freedom and control I had to have in order to do the music right. And now they understand, and I think I understand them a little better.
CAMPBELL: What do you think was the turning point in your career?
JENNINGS: I think it was after Neil took over as my manager and renegotiated my contract. I asked for artistic control and freedom. And that was one of the things everybody was dead set against giving me. But I wouldn't go without it. I had to have it. And yet, you know, when I came into the studio it was pressure. Because if I could get that kind of control, then everybody is watching. The first thing we worked on was on the "Lonesome, On'ry and Mean" album. But the first entire album I had control over was "Honky Tonk Heroes."
CAMPBELL: This is kind of off-the-wall, but what makes you mad about the business?
JENNINGS: People who think you owe them the world. I think the statement that makes me madder than anything is "I made you what you are." Now I'm not talking about people who sincerely come to hear you sing. See, I'm an introvert in an extroverted business. And I'm not the great conversationalist. I make people nervous when they first come around me because of all the things they have heard about me. Then I react to that reaction. And another thing that makes me mad is when I hear somebody say, "You can't do this because that ain't country." Now who the hell cares!? I have heard more of them say this too: "I think that could be a pop hit." Now where is that coming from!? Why don't they just get in there and not worry about charts and an award at the end of the year. Just take a good song and do the best that you can do with it and play music. Music is supposed to be a happy thing. It's creative. And when you get all balled up in red tape, it's ridiculous.
CAMPBELL: By the way, you don't make me nervous.
JENNINGS: That's your first mistake. Now I'm gonna hit you. (laughs)
CAMPBELL: I've listened to your new album pretty close, and my favorite song on it is "Billy." How close does that song parallel your relationship with Willie Nelson?
JENNINGS: Willie is my brother. There is no rift between Willie and me at all. But you know that place in the song where I say, "Tell all the people down in Texas I said Hi?" Well, me and Willie have been through the briar patches together. And we will go again if we have to. I hope we don't have to. Willie is a great writer, a great singer, and a great ole boy. But I got to where I didn't like to do those outdoor things (Willie's annual picnics). For one thing, four of them in a row got rained out. And I felt like someone was going to get hurt at one of them. Not me or my people, but someone in the crowd. You know, the law enforcement people there get a little over anxious, and the people get a little nervous and over anxious. I'm not blaming anybody. But maybe those things have been run into the ground.
CAMPBELL: I have heard you aren't doing much with Willie now, but are you planning on working with him now or in the future on any projects?
JENNINGS: Willie who? I don't care where he is or what. If he wants to pick and grin, we will work together, sure. He can't do without me! (laughs)
CAMPBELL: I read somewhere that you and Johnny Cash roomed together and were friends back in the 60's when you first came to town. Why have both of you waited this long to work together?
JENNINGS: It wasn't intentional. Listen, I had rather be around Johnny Cash than anybody I know. He just knocks me out. We have more fun together. We get nervous when we get up and sing together because we have never done that before. I tell you, John and I are closer than brothers. We went through the wild years - the drug scene. We hid them from each other and lied to each other. We had to get away from each other in order to pull it back together. But that is not the reason we have never worked together. It just happened. We decided to record a thing together. We went into a studio one night and had a great time - picking and singing. I thought we sounded pretty good together and he did too. So we did it again not too long ago. I'm the kind of person who would rather wait and let things happen naturally. It wasn't nobody's idea. I found a song.
CAMPBELL: "Chain Gang?"
JENNINGS: No, the other one, "I Wish I Was Crazy Again." He was in Hamburg, Germany, and we were talking on the phone. I played it for him on the phone and that is how it got started. I said that would be a great duet, so we did it. And then we did the other one.
CAMPBELL: How did the death of Elvis affect you?
JENNINGS: I was really sad. I was down in Alabama in Muscle Shoals, and me and Richie were working on a Hank Williams, Jr. album. We were producing it together. Richie waited a long time before he told me. Finally, he said, "I've got to tell you something." I just drove on back up to Nashville. I knew Elvis. He was really something. I had met him four times. I had a lot of fun with him. There was a great thing about him aside from the music. He was just special, period. I think we all needed him.
CAMPBELL: You know, I think a lot of people felt like, if Elvis can die, I can sure die. He represented more than just music.
JENNINGS: It still don't seem real to me. But I don't worry about death. I figure on living forever. I'm going to figure it out before it's all over.
CAMPBELL: It seems to me your new album is more reflective than anything you have done in the past. Does this mean you have reached a point in life where you feel you need to examine the past few years and get a fix on where you have been and where you are going?
JENNINGS: This album is a little bit of everything I have ever done. I like it. If you listen to it, it seems like it touches on just about everything. I think when a guy gets about 40, everybody looks back then. And I have come to the conclusion the business can run you to death if you try to keep up with it. Let it keep up with you. If you worry about energies and worry about how big you are going to be, where is that at? That puts you right back into the thing I was talking about earlier when I said music is something to be enjoyed. I love recording and I love playing music. Richie and I and the band have talked about this, and I have started playing clubs every once in a while now. I don't care how many people they hold. We played Cain's Ballroom (Tulsa, Oklahoma) not too long ago. You lose touch with people in coliseums, and you should keep that. Coliseums can become very sterile. After a while, faces look like chairs. And you get to walking through things. You need that personal contact right on you, and there is nothing like a nightclub - like that club over in Tulsa. Them people are crazy, but they are great.
CAMPBELL: I know you don't like doing interviews, and I appreciate you talking to me. But why don't you like to do them? Are you uncomfortable here talking with me?
JENNINGS: No, I'm comfortable with you. But I had a lot of problems with me saying one thing and somebody printing another. It's like "People" magazine. This guy chased us halfway across the country trying to get us to do that interview. So we did it. Then here he comes along saying Jessi wanted me to get a vasectomy. And he said Waylon answered him "no" in his male chauvinistic way, saying my next wife might want children. Now that was a lie. That was never even discussed, and it wouldn't have been in front of that snaggle-toothed SOB anyway. I had to have somebody tell me what a vasectomy was. And when I found out what it was, I didn't ever want it mentioned to me again. It's things like this. If people would just tell the truth - what was really said. Another thing is where I'm at. This outlaw stuff and macho stuff. That's not what it's all about. They come in and talk to you and don't want to hear a damn thing you are saying about the music. All they want to put in is where you come in, sit down, kick a waitress, sit with your back to the wall, face the door, and you knock out a bartender - humming all the while.
CAMPBELL: But you were an outlaw in the sense that you did rebel.
JENNINGS: More than a sense. I did rebel and backed up and said I wasn't going to do things a certain way anymore. But the other way didn't work for me. The outlaw thing has probably caused me a problem or two. I'm not going to back up if I think I am right, and that has caused problems. I've never been in the habit of backing up, and I don't think I want to start now. But I'm a good ole boy, and I have a good ole time.
CAMPBELL: Well, I really believe Texans are different from most people. Most of them are independent as hell.
JENNINGS: Stop and think about the way we were raised. We were raised to believe that we were about a notch or two better than the rest of the world, and that the rest of the world was overseas. It's that pride of being a Texan. It's taught from childhood.
*** I think there are very few people anymore who will really stand up for what they believe, no matter what the cost. No matter if they lose their job or whatever - someone who will say, "This is what I believe. This is it." ***
Well, you can see their side too. Here comes this ole boy from Texas who looks kind of crazy and acts kind of crazy too. And things have been going smooth, and he starts rocking the boat. One thing I just always loved though. This guy is no longer with the company so I can say it. There used to be a guy with RCA that would come in and say, "You just be quiet, and we will take care of this. We know what we are doing about these records." Now where is that coming from - he knows what he is doing about my music? - telling me what to release, and then he sits there and pats his foot to the wrong beat. And he tells me that's got a good, snappy beat. And he whistled with a Yankee accent. Nobody is going to make me change anything about my music. I ain't saying that is the easiest way to go. But I had to do it that way. And I am glad I did.
CAMPBELL: How about two more questions?
JENNINGS: Go on. Ask what you want.
CAMPBELL: Let me see how to put this. You've been in the business about 20 years, haven't you?
JENNINGS: Yeh, right around that.
CAMPBELL: Uh . . . do you? . . . let me see how to put this.
JENNINGS: Don't be nervous, kid, you can get another job.
CAMPBELL: Naw, I'm just trying to work out a phrase. I write better than I talk.
JENNINGS: (laughs) Hoss, now you see what I've been talking about: If we could sing 'em to you like Merle Haggard, we'd be all right!
CAMPBELL: If, in fact, this business has changed you over the years, how have you changed? And what is your key to survival in the music industry?
JENNINGS: Sure you change. Everything has an effect on everyone and everything around you. It's had kind of a rough effect on me. I got to where I wouldn't go out anywhere. I can't really put a handle on that kind of thing. Maybe people might not believe this, but I am actually surprised by all of it each and every day. I don't really think in that direction. I didn't want to compete with anybody. That's what I told the Country Music Association. I'm not into competing with any of the other singers. I am a fan of this business. Let's put it this way: Willie and I were up for the same award. Now there is no way I am going to sit there beside him if I had won - and I didn't. I just don't want that type of stuff. It affects your music. It puts you in competition. The best thing to do would be to give it to new artists to help them along.
Sure, everybody likes to be appreciated. but I just didn't like the way they went about it - adding up the votes and how they were come by and where they came from. You asked me what I thought was the best thing to do in this business? Honesty.
*** Honesty is something you can't wear out. And you don't have to spend a whole lot of time remembering. Being yourself. That's what you got to do. Look that fellow in the mirror in the eye. And keep honesty in your music. ***
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To learn more about Waylon's life, I suggest reading "Waylon: An Autobiography," by Waylon Jennings with Lenny Kaye. Warner Books, 1996.
Back to first Waylon page in Art Gallery of Alfred J. Smuskiewicz