BFT: Who was Crazy Legs?

BBH: He was a guy from Houston, and the white kids just loved him 'cause he wore red suits, green suits, yellow suits, blue suits, black suits. And he was a singer and a clown, you could say. But they dug him because he was an entertainer, see? And he would bring three pieces. He came up here with the Blues for Two, and what it was was a guitar player and a bass player. And the guy that was playing guitar was called Albert Redock, or something like that. He looked like a Mexican dude, and he played guitar. In fact, he moved up here and stayed over there on Navasota for a while. But he played guitar, and Gatemouth Brown's cousin played bass, and Crazy Legs. And Crazy Legs came to Austin and got a drummer.

And man, they started making money. They stayed at that university fraternities. Crazy Legs... What Crazy Legs would do, he would book himself in two fraternities, and he'd get a bass player and a guitar player and let them play at this fraternity house; and he'd get a bass player and a guitar player and let them play at this fraternity house; and then Crazy Legs would go from one fraternity to the other. Yeah. He would do that. And he was making money at two different places. And they loved it. Like I said, he was an entertainer. And he knew how to get over, you know? And he did that for a while.

In fact, W.C. started playing with him. Yeah, that was one of W.C.'s first band leaders right there. Crazy Legs, Crazy Legs Moore or Palmer or something like that. But Crazy Legs, ask W.C. about him. He played with him. In fact, he and W.C. got into it, and W.C. hit him with a mike stand. Yeah, W.C. hit him with a mike stand. Yep, W.C. played with him up there on 12th Street. That was during the first beginning of blues in Austin. Crazy Legs was right here. Crazy Legs is in Oklahoma right now.

BFT: How has it changed?

[Tape break.]

BBH: ...do-doo-do-do-do. And Crazy Legs would start going, "I want to do-do." Hahaha! Everybody started laughing. He would think of every little old thing like that, anything that had something in there where Crazy Legs could get a different punch line out of it, he would do it. He was one of them kind of guys.

[Tape pause again.]

BBH: ...for me, off and on for quite a while. In fact, I'm sure I was the one that made W.C. want to play guitar. 'Cause he used to just stand there and look at me playing. He'd be looking at me playing so 'till his bass would get carried away, and he'd have to snap back on there, and he'd be just looking at me play. One day he told me, "Man, I'm going to switch to guitar, man. You know, look like ya'll have more fun than we do, or something, you know."

And I was the one where W.C. first started singing. He started singing playing with me. He started off with one tune, and then he went to two, and you know. He'd say, "How do I sound?" I'd say, "You don't sound bad W.C." And he'd say, "Well, I'm kind of scared of that one, man." But he started singing with me.

He was already playing bass, then he told me he was going to play guitar. He was staying right off of 12th and Waller, and he had me to come by there one day and help him out a little bit on his guitar; and then he took Hambone, and the two of them went to the Westside of town with a little group. W.C. said, "Man, I'm going to have to move away from the Eastside because you too cold over here." And he cut away from the Eastside like he said he was going to do. He said, "Man, you got the Eastside sewed up; you got before-hours, you got after-hours. So, I'm going over on the Westside where they are begging for some blues." And he went over there and that's where he ran into Stevie Ray Vaughan. And he was playing guitar, but he got back on his bass and started playing with Stevie Ray Vaughan. And he played with him for a while. That's how W.C. got over there.

BFT: Did you ever play at Vulcan?

BBH: No. I never, not a gig at the Vulcan Gas Company, or either at whatchacallit, Armadillo World [Headquarters on Barton Springs Road]. But I was just beginning to start playing there because Freddy King had come out to the shack, and he told me that whenever he booked over there without a band, he was going to tell them to let me and my band play. And Freddie died just when that happened. And he was really starting to make some money too. Freddie died then. And Bill Campbell was having a ball watching him play. Bill really admired Freddie King.

BFT: He was a good player.

BBH: Yeah, a real good player. In fact, last time I played at Antone's with Bill, Albert Collins, Bill and myself played the set together. That Friday I went over to hear, and Antone said, "Man, get your ax and I'll pay you to play with them tomorrow night." And Bill and I played the whole night. And when Albert came up we would... You know, Albert was one of the open-dess-minded guys that I ever saw on the bandstand, you know? And he'd say "Man, take some," then I'd solo;. Then he'd give Bill some. And we did that all night long. We had them people screaming and hollering and going. A friend of ours was in jail, and that was always live, Saturday night was always live on KUT, see? He said "Man, I had it turned to KUT, and man, Hubbard, every time you'd start soloing I knew it was you. I'd tell the cats that's Blues Boy right there." And Bill: see, he didn't know who Bill was up there, see? But he knew Albert Collins because he has a style all his own. Yeah, that was a lot of fun up there. But that was that night, the last time I heard Bill play, that I knew that Bill has been practicing. I told him, "Man, Bill, you been practicing. You've got a lot of stuff now!" And me and Bill would just sit back there in the dressing room and just start playing. He'd rhythm while I'd play, and I'd rhythm while he'd play. And Bill got a lot of stuff going. He's off into jazz now. But that's the only way to go, you know? If you stay on blues, there's just so much you can learn. Like I said, there's no where to go.

BFT: If the '60s was probably the point in your career when you were the busiest, working all the time and meeting a lot of people, you could probably have gotten out of town.

BBH: Oh yeah, just opportunities all over the place. But I never... Well, when I was like 18 or 19 years old, a group came through La Grange called the "House Rockers" from Florida. And I got with those guys, and that taught me right off about on the road without big records out on the front of that road. Without that, there ain't nothing going on, man. I traveled with those guys hungry. We were eating beans and wieners and shit like that. Man! I said, man, I ain't going for this. And that taught me a lesson. If you are somewhere doing pretty good, you'd better be satisfied rather than...because one of the things I knew as a guitarist, playing a guitar is all right; but if you don't sing and play, your chances of making big money is really very slim. 'Cause there's too many cats out there who are starving to death who can play and sing. It's just like George Benson. If he never had to start singing, well, he would have never made it like he is now, you know? 'Cause he's one of the best guitarists I've ever heard. But, they had him on jazz album. And jazz wasn't selling. And no sooner than he started singing a lot, somebody grabbed him. That's one of those things. 'Cause there's only a few Wes Montgomery's and things like that, you know? Like Wes made it just playing, you know? But I never thought I'm going to make it just playing, man.

BBH: You never wanted to be a rock and roll star?

BBH: No, I never wanted to be no rock and roll star. I've always wanted to play my ax to the best of my ability and just keep changing to the better guys. If I hear a guy that's hot -- that guy is smoking -- I'm going to buy his tapes or records and listen and see if I can copy some of his material, you know? In fact, the only gig that I really played that I mean I can say that I was smoking, and that was the gig the night with me and Albert Collins and Bill Campbell. That's the last gig that I can remember that I was really playing, really enjoyed it, and really was cutting loose with what I know. The rest of the gigs, I just play the gig to get by. I say, yeah, I know this tune; I know that tune. And I play them. I don't really feeling everything that I do, you know?

Now like when we played at Mike's place on 6th Street, the first gig that we played down there I enjoyed it a lot, you know, because we really did smoke that night. The second gig I didn't really get into it that much. And if you are not really into it, man, you just don't do as well. 'Cause there are a lot of things about experience. If you've got a lot of experience, you've got people out there in the audience going, "Man, you sure did blow!" but you don't feel like that. But if you've got a lot of experience, all you have to do is just do your thing. And you've got a lot of people that's happy that you're doing your thing. But sometimes you can go beyond your thing, and that's when you say, "Man, I smoked tonight!" Well see, now there are only a few gigs that I can say that. I can say that gig with Albert Collins and Bill Campbell, I smoked on that gig. But then I had to. You know, 'cause Albert Collins may not know more than ten licks, but he knows how to make those ten licks go all kinds of ways. Yeah, he knows those ten licks. Like I said, Bill Campbell can just play, period. Bill has gotten to where he can smoke, man. Boy, we were blown away. I guess the horn players were saying, "When are they going to give us some solos," 'cause we had three horns that night. And every now and then, Albert Collins would give the horns a solo.

BFT: Is Bill one of your best students?

BBH: Not exactly. Well he... I would have to give him the credit for being one of the best. But then, this guy Johnny Williams! And he was pretty much the first guy I started teaching. The first white guy that I started teaching was Johnny Williams, and then Mickey, which is a guy that I've been teaching for like 25 years. Name is Mickey Bennett. But he don't play professionally, but he sounds professional. I taught him to play piano; I taught him to play bass; I taught him to play guitar; and just a lot of things. And he's making money. He had a Fred Estaire Dance Studio. He got a resort down in Zapata down in Laredo down there. And he just takes his money and buy music equipment that he wants. And every year, I go down there and spend a week with him, you know, teaching him all what's up now. And he's a guy that's just stuck with it, stuck with it, man. He's got a lot of my tapes of me playing and with him and stuff. And he's one of the guys that's stuck with it a long time that I would, that I've taught to play. But as far as getting it and really making money with it, Johnny Williams did it. In fact, Johnny Williams left Austin and went to Houston and started recording records. I don't know if you've ever heard of a white guy from San Marcus -- name is Roy Head -- he made it in the rock and roll field.

BFT: Yeah, I remember that.

BBH: Okay. Well, he started off playing with us; not playing, but he just sings and he's a showman. And he started singing and playing with us up at Charlie's Playhouse. And then when we had this program Now Dig This over there at KTBC, we used to put him on that show. And you know, he said, "How good am I?" I said, "Man, you've got a lot of things going for you: you sing and you've got a lot of showman stuff that you don't see nobody else doing." He said, "Man, I'm going to Houston and I'm going to make it," and he did. He went to Houston, he got with Don Robey, and next thing I knew they used to have a program that came out of California. The band was Paul Revere and the Raiders. Paul Revere and the Raiders. Okay, he used to narrate that show. That's how big he got. He had gotten big. And then we went to Houston one time to record a record at Gold Star Studio, in Houston, and we talked to the guy. The guy that run the club was named Duff, and he said, "You all are from Austin, and so you must know Roy Head." We said, "Yeah sure!" He said, "Don Robey has got me doing a lot of stuff on Roy Head." He said, "You're not going to hear very much about him no more." We said, "Why not?" He said, "Well, he goofed up. He had a contract with Don Robey, and then he signed another contract with Mercury." He said, "They're fixing to blackball him. He's not going to have nothing going on." And that really happened. He came back to Austin, and he came out to the shack, and he talked with us and told us exactly what that guy said. "Yeah, I did that, I done goofed man." That night, he was over here on Lamar at that club that was once called Eli's [Nightclub], then I think it was the Yellow Rose or something. I don't know what it is now. It's right down there before you get to the railroad track. It's on the west side of the street on Lamar. It's the Yellow Rose now? Yeah, then that's where. But it wasn't the Yellow Rose then; I think it was something. That's where he told us he was. He said, "Yeah, I goofed, man really!" You don't hear nothing. In fact, he done put out a country and western tune; I think I heard it once and that's about it. But we started that cat out. And I'll tell you somebody else started off with us: Ruben and Alfonso Ramos. They started off at Charlie's Playhouse, coming up there and sitting in. That's right.

BFT: Those guys are some good players!

BBH: They would come up there and sit in, and they finally started bringing their whole band; and that was the beginning of Alfonso Ramos. And they started bringing their whole band, and "You think we're ready, man?" "Sure you're ready, hell yeah." And next thing I knew, it was Ruben and Alfonso Ramos all over Austin, you know? They used to come to Charlie's Playhouse, that's where they got started. There's a lot of people that started on the Eastside that ended up somewhere else.

BFT: Why do you think of these names that you're dropping that not too many young black folks jumping in there and learning blues?

BBH: I don't know really. To me, the rapping and all of that kind of stuff is something that young children dig. If you notice on rapping music most of that stuff is mechanical, the drums and all of that. All they need is a couple of synthesizers, and that's it. And most of the kids is in that kind of thing, you know? Whatever one youngster do, all youngsters want to do. And if you're pushing it every day down their throat, they can't help but do nothing but like it. Like my son, when he was 18 and 20 years old, he used to dig that. And the minute my son passed 25 he didn't dig that no more. My son is 32 now, you know, and he don't like no rapping and all that. My son digs jazz. He likes to hear me play something by George Benson or something like that, you know? So, it's just a phase, I guess, that young children have. The only thing wrong with it is there's no music going on in those songs for a youngster to want to pick up an ax. All he wants to do is dance, see? So what he do, he learns to be a good dancer, you know, but that's it. So you say, how many youngsters -- young, black -- can play guitar like George Benson? None of them, you know? I think he's... They're tricking their self and don't know it, you know? They're just only doing what's popular, you know? Whatever the big companies is pushing, that's what they're going to do. But they're not pushing the guys on a lot of instruments and things, so it's sort of taking them backwards, and they don't even know it. Really, it's taking them backwards, and they don't really know it. And as long as you've got that big money pushing this stuff, it's going to keep selling to young people. Because you take like a lot of young blacks started off digging it -- and it was nothing but black rappers and all that -- now the whites are getting into it, see? There are a lot of white rappers now. Like what is it, Vanilla Ice and all that; New Kids on the Block, and all that, you know? See, now it's going to spill over into the white crowd too, see? And after awhile ain't nobody going to be able to play no instruments! Hahaha! Everybody is going to have electric drums and a synthesizer and that's it.

And who's to say what's going to happen, let's say, 50 years from now. Will we look back at this and say, "Man, that was a mistake, you know?" Or will something come out of it that's going to be good? It's hard to say.

BFT: That's kind of what we're wondering.