BFT: And after he died broke!

JP: Yeah, and after he died broke. They would never have known anything about it. I mean that happens to a lot of musicians, you know. A lot of good musicians.

They're finally trying to do something with Grey Ghost. But I mean, he's not making anywhere near the money that say Mose Allison is making. No man! But it had to take a white guy to do something with him, after he was past 83. I mean it's a wonder the guy's still here. Just because he's cussed enough to live this long that somebody recognize him. But he was doing the same thing he's doing today he did it in the early...

BFT: ...60 years...

JP: ...60 years. 87 years old, man! Been playing since he was a teenager. So he been doing it a long time. Well, recognition is something that you don't get. Because how many record producers... well, now they've got this South by Southwest thing happening in Austin. Now, how many people do you think are going to set their foot on the other side of I-35, if there was something happening over here?

BFT: There's not any places over here that...

JP: I mean, even if there was!

BFT: I mean, there are actual possible venues that South by Southwest people could have used, like some public buildings that are not clubs, to hold some of the performers. But they didn't bring any groups over here. And they're not really dealing a lot with local black players, especially in terms of jazz and blues.

JP: No. And that's one of the biggest scams going too. South by Southwest. Who does it benefit? Not one musician.

BFT: They say it's good for the economy.

JP: Who's economy, man? That's the biggest scam going, man. It's not good for the musicians. They play for nothing.

BFT: And they pay the entry fee to be able to play for free!

JP: Boy, somebody needs to be hung up by their thumbnails... Whoever thought this up needs to be hung up by their thumbnails, man. And then have music played to them for about two or three hours while they are hanging by their thumbs. That's awful, man.

BFT: One of the ironic things -- just the timing of this interview, South by Southwest starts today for 1991, and I was checking the listings for the blues folks -- most of those blues showcases are at Antones. And they've got some good acts, but in terms of looking at all of the local blues community, there's nobody except the white guys. Angela and Marsha and Lou Ann are on the bill, and Omar and the Howlers are on the bill, and I think Toni Price, this young woman who has just moved here from Canada, new guitar player and singer, she's on the bill. But the other guys are like Albert Collins and all these folks from out of town. It seems like of they were interested in actually helping folks that need some attention out of here, outside of here.

JP: Oh, is Albert on the bill? Well, he's not down here for nothing, you can believe that.

BFT: I would dare say that none of those folks are playing for free for South by Southwest. Angela Strehli isn't playing for free. She had to fly in from California; she isn't doing that for free, unless she just wanted to come and hang out, which is possible for her.

JP: Some young lady called me; they don't have any venues for jazz either. Well, Top of the Marc is the only venue for jazz they have. Some young lady called me because I made a demo tape with her to play. But I don't do those things. It's beneath my dignity to do that, man. It's my profession. I can't go... And I don't really know any groups that have gotten anything, a record contract.

BFT: It's pretty limited.

JP: So, it doesn't mean that to me. Not at the stage that I'm at now.

BFT: Most of the people that are serious pros, that's just kind of a media event that kind of goes on. And not waiting for pie in the sky to come after you play your 35 minute set.

JP: Well I don't know, man, I don't know what's going to happen with it.

BFT: Speaking of gatherings, what about that H-T thing that's going to happen in April?

JP: That particular thing, I'm involved in that. This is gratis for musicians, too. But I can see something like that. What we intend to do with that is all of the money that is raised from there will go to H-T for some deserving music student and a scholarship thing. So we are donating our time for that. It's not like club owners making a lot of money off the bar, pocketing the money, charging to get in. Where does the money go? Who gets the money?

BFT: Everywhere but to the musicians!

JP: Everywhere but the musicians, see! No, that H-T thing, it's the second year. I was involved with that last year, and we're calling on musicians to donate their time to come in for that cause. It's put on by the alumni chapter and I am an alumnus of the college. And we're trying to put it on and raise some money to give to a deserving music student. That's what we want to do. Because H-T is hurting in the music department over there. It is really hurting. If we can help raise some funds to help a deserving music student, we'll do that.

BFT: It's really a great idea and a great project.

JP: It is a great project.

BFT: 'Cause it's not just... You are also offering as you are helping. So, people get to see your skill goes into something which then turns around and benefits them a second time.

JP: Right.

BFT: We're hoping we'll be able to run some tape there.

JP: That would be wonderful, wonderful. We hope this thing grows, and maybe next year we can get somebody to do some funding and maybe we can pay musicians to come in. We'd like to bring in Bobby Bradford from L.A.; he's a H-T graduate. People like that. But we can't bring people from that distance and not pay them something.

BFT: Not on good will.

JP: No, not on good will. Hopefully it will grow into that. We've got our fingers crossed. But we have the same format this year, asking musicians to donate 20 or 30 minutes of their time. Everything is donated. We're operating on zero budget.

BFT: I know that feeling.

JP: You know that one, huh?

BFT: I know that one. Let's take a break, if not end.

JP: All right.

BFT: See when we go back and start doing this closer to next year, we'll probably want to get active with you again, and follow you around for a couple of days, but right now you're being an expert and helping to give us an overall perspective on what's going on. We're going to try to tap Martin for that same kind of thing. You're someone who moved here as a young man, worked in the scene, got your chops up, and then had an opportunity to get out of here and stay gone for several years. How did you get out of here?

JP: Well, very carefully. It just sort of happened. I was working for IBM as a buyer in purchasing, and I had been with IBM since, in that capacity since 1968. I came back from Massachusetts and worked here in Austin out at the plant on Burnet Road. And I had done that and the year was 1977. I reached a crossroads in my life. I was approaching 40 years old and I had to decide.

You know I hadn't played any music whatsoever for six almost seven years 'cause I was involved with being an IBM cabbage, you know? So I had to make a decision and I came to a crossroads and I said, "Well, what is it going to be, James? You have a decent job at IBM, making real good money." I'm talking in the '70s, I was making good money. "I see you are either going to have to devote 150% of your time to IBM or none at all." Because the type of job that I had was going to demand that much of my time. My wife and I had divorced. I was by myself, so I had to make a decision. I had a degree in music. I loved music. I had not played any music for almost seven years, six years or so, not to amount to anything, a gig here and there with somebody here in town. I played sitting-in with Geneva Rawlins sometimes, playing bass when her husband couldn't make it. I said, this is not enough to satisfy, to whet my appetite, so the only way that I can get back into music is to leave IBM alone.

And there were some guys in town, Steve Meador and Roscoe Beck, used to come down when I played in the early '70s at Skip's Place playing organ trio. Me and Hubbard used to have an every Sunday afternoon jam.

BFT: Skip's?

JP: Skip Jones, used to have a place on 7th Street. I've forgotten the name of it now, the East-Something. But anyway, Hubbard and I played, and Billy Joe Walker, who is [drummer] Dexter's father, played drums. We played down there every Sunday for a long time. And different places around town we'd have Sunday afternoon jam sets. I was playing organ.

So, I hadn't done that in a long time. So I said, "Well, I know how much I love music. Do I want to give music up? 'Cause that's essentially what I'll have to do if I stay with IBM in this capacity." My mind told me, no you don't want to give music up. So what alternative do you have? You've got to quit. So I walked into IBM and quit one day.

So after I quit IBM, I decided, "Well James, you've worked, you've been in the work-force for a long time. You had a nice little chunk in your savings. You've got a good severance pay from IBM, and you've got a nice pretty fat bank account. I mean, there's no rush to find a job right now. Cool it." So I did. I played golf everyday for about six or seven months. I did! 'Went to the golf course every day. Then my quick mind told me, say hey buddy, you have to do something because you're not doing anything. But it's all going out; there's not a dime coming in. 'Still wasn't playing any music, not to amount to anything. I said, so you need to do something. So I started frequenting, going by Casablanca, which was a club over on 15th and Lavaca. And the guy one day -- I used to go sometimes and sit in and play over there -- so the guy asked me one day if I wanted a happy hour gig. I said, "Oh, yeah!" Playing from Monday through Friday. Oh, yeah! OK, five to eight o'clock at night! Still didn't mess with my golf time, making money, pay my rent. Say this is great! How come I haven't been doing this all along? So I took that and then we put a little band together, and we started playing at the Casablanca on Monday nights, Tuesday nights.

Then I started working with a couple of other bands around town, started playing a little music. And I say, well shoot, this is it. So in 1978... I guess it was a year later... Well, I think I started playing in August or July of '78 I think was when I started playing... No, '77.

Well anyway, I guess about a year later, Ray Charles was coming through town. And they had a place out on Burnet Road called the Country Dinner Playhouse. It's no longer there anymore but it was out there. Anyway, that's where he was going to be performing. I got this telephone call from a buddy of mine who had worked with me here in Austin back in the late '60s out at the Hideaway. He played in my band, trumpet. He was playing with Ray Charles. He left, he was living in San Antonio; but he left San Antonio and moved to L.A., and so he was playing with Ray Charles. So he called me on the phone and said, "Hey man, I'm playing with Ray's band. Why don't you come out and catch the show?" I said, "OK, leave me a couple of tickets at the door." So anyway, I went out and caught the show, went backstage and talked with him and met the guys in the orchestra. So, I met the band leader at the time which was Clifford Solomon. And so he told me, "Say man, let me have your name and your number. My buddy here tells me you're a good keyboard player, man." He said, "I always like to have names on file 'cause you never know what happens. Guys quit the band; guys leave; guys get fired. You never know. Let me have your name." I said OK. So I gave him my name, telephone number and my address.

So they were playing in San Antonio the next night, so I even drove over to San Antonio the next night and caught the show. They were rehearsing the next day, so I even went to rehearsal when they rehearsed, caught them in rehearsal and all. A buddy of mine... Then went to the show and came on back to Austin. So I was playing with my group here in Austin and we had, we were doing a jazz festival down in Galveston, Texas that following weekend. So we had gone to Galveston to do a three-day festival, I think, two-day or three-day festival we were doing down there in Galveston. And then when we got back, that Sunday night, I had a message on my answering machine that Clifford had called. The band leader, Ray's band leader, had called and said "Hey man, we fired the piano player. The position is open. Do you want the job?" Just like that. So, I wasn't expecting anything. I got up Monday morning and the phone rang and it was Clifford. He said "Say man, you get my message?" I said yeah. He said, "You want the job?" I said yeah man. So he said, "OK man, say, uh, somebody be calling you from the office then." I said OK.

So next day I got up and got ready to go the golf course, phone rang, picked up the phone, it was Ray Charles. He called me and said, "Say James? Say, uh, this is Brother Ray." That's what he calls himself, see. "I hear you're a fine keyboard player. You come highly recommended. We got this position open. We need a piano player. Would you like to have it?" I said certainly. He said, "Well, when can you leave." I said, "When do you need me?" He said, "Can you leave tomorrow?" I said, "Oh no, I can't leave that soon. I'm still working at this happy hour job. I've got to give them two weeks notice." He said, "I understand what you mean, man. Don't burn no bridges. Give your two weeks notice; I'll hold it open for you." He held the position open for two weeks for me, man. And he said the office will call you the next day or so. So the office did. His office called me and told me where I was to meet them, and sent me a plane ticket and everything. And that's how I got with Ray Charles. Just like that.

BFT: Who was the trumpet player in San Antonio?

JP: Name was James Smith, James Smith. We used to call him Smitty. And I finally named him Little Bubba, 'cause we had a Big Bubba on the band.

Yeah, Smitty lived in San Antonio, and he was back and forth between here and Austin. And he played with my band, my group in Austin back in the late '60s, early '70s. And yeah, he was the one who called and told me about it. And that union lasted from '78 'til I quit the road in '84, but I still worked with Ray until '87, in the studio, so it lasted until I moved back here. I moved back here in '88. And occasionally I'll talk with him. I get a letter from the office every now and then, and a royalty check. I did a lot of arranging and stuff for him, so I still get some checks every now and then. Not much but every little bit helps.

BFT: Who was in your band before you left, after you started doing happy hour and put a band together?

JP: It was a band called Passenger. I don't know if you are familiar with that band, but before they were Passenger, they were James Polk and Company. We had Steve Meador on drums, Roscoe Beck on bass, and had Bill Ginn play one of the keyboards, James Fenner played conga, Paul Ostermeyer was on saxophone, and Mitch Watkins was on guitar. And I was on the other keyboards. And that was James Polk and Company was the name of the group. After I split and went with Ray, the group stayed together and changed the name to Passenger.

BFT: That was a good band!

JP: Yeah!

BFT: You done well with those guys. They were hot! Rosco is a hell of a bass player.

JP: He's a hell of a bass player. Roscoe started playing bass by looking at my left hand on organ. When I used to play a lot of those Sunday jam sessions. Roscoe used to come and sit right on my left hand...

BFT: ...Following the changes...

JP: ...Following the changes. That's how he started learning how to play bass.

They are a good bunch of guys. I think Mitch's moved back here now. I think Bill Ginn has moved to Santa Monica, California. And Roscoe is out in California, and he's got a recording studio out there. Paul Ostermeyer lives in New York now. And Steve Meador lives in Lubbock. Let's see, James Fenner is still here in town. Who else is it? That's it. That was a good group.

Those guys took me fast. I learned a lot. I mean, Roscoe is kind of responsible for me starting to play over again, because he used to come by my house and bug me and say, "Man, when are you going to start playing again, man? We need you to start playing again." He kept after me, kept after me. Eventually, I started playing again, thanks to Ross. He's always one of my favorites. Good bass player.

BFT: Next time we get together, I will try and be a little more in-depth on your career. I think we've got more than we can use for a segment, but all good stuff.

JP: Right man, 'appreciate it!

BFT: No, we appreciate it. Just hope you don't get tired of us, we ain't finished with you yet.

JP: Talking about music just happens to be one of my favorite subjects.

[End of tape]