My High School Reunion

This past weekend I went back to my hometown, Newberry, SC, for my high school reunion. About three or four years ago all of the classes of the sixties combined for one big reunion. It worked great, there was a large turnout, it was fun, and I got drunk. The committee decided to do it again this year. There was another large turnout, this time I took Nancy with me, I danced more, and I didn't get as drunk. By the way, I made it through the weekend without smoking, and today is day 14 of the "Quest To Quit"!

I spent some time on Saturday afternoon before the big dance at the country club, riding around my old neighborhood and checking out what was left of my "stomping grounds." Way too many changes to talk about, but as I drove past what used to be, the memories came flooding back. Each memory serving to remind me once again, how lucky I was to grow up in this small little town.

I didn't have a car my freshman year in high school so the only way for me to get to school was to ride the big yellow school bus...or walk. The fact that not nearly enough people recognized it at that time, I was, even at that young and awkward age, cool. The big yellow school bus was not an option for me...I walked.

To get from my house on Caldwell Street to Newberry High on Nance Street, I had to walk down Caldwell Street, 9/10 of a mile to Main Street. Then cross over Main and continue another 7/10 of a mile to Speer Street, go left for one block to Nance Street, a right and a couple of blocks up on the left was good ole Newberry High. Just over 1.6 miles, hot or cold, rain or shine, I walked. (Well ok, maybe I did ride that funkin bus a few times when it rained, I was cool .. not stupid.)

About once a week on my walk home from school I would stop at the corner of Main and Caldwell and pop into Rose's Five & Dime. In those days almost every town of any size in the South had at least one Five & Dime on their Main Street. Five & Dimes were the same everywhere. They had that wonderful smell to 'em; they smelled like popcorn and chewin' gum rubbed around on the bottom of a leather sole shoe. I'd stop in to flip through the discount 45 rpm record bins in hopes of finding some of that soul music they played on our local AM station, WKDK 1240 on your radio dial. Every once in a while I'd get lucky and find a record I'd always wanted all my life for .59 cents. No matter the weather, what happened bad at school that day or what fate awaited me at home, when that happened, it was a great day.

I saw lots of folks from those years that I hadn't seen in a while. Some I hadn't seen in twenty or twenty-five years or more. It was nice to see them all one last time. But to be honest, for me, there was just barely enough fun and barely enough memories to take away, for the night not to be a total disappointment. It was very apparent that the years are catching up with the large majority of those folks. Yea, this one was about as good as it will ever be. I've been to every Newberry High reunion that I've known about over the last 42 years...but I don't think I'll risk another.

Memorial Day

Before I get to a few thoughts about Memorial Day, I just want to let those of you who are interested in the "quest to quit," know that I'm now into day seven. I had a fairly stern test on Saturday night. Nancy and I threw some meat on the grill, she had her usual one glass of wine, while I tossed back several vodka tonics. This was the first time I had much to drink since I stopped smoking. It wasn't nearly as agonizing as I thought it might be and I did make it through, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss having my old friend along while I drank. There's an even bigger test looming this coming weekend, as I go back for my high school reunion. Wish me luck.

I keep a picture of my dad in his army officer's uniform on a bookcase next to my desk in my music room. A friend stopped by on Saturday and while I was showing him the various memorabilia in my room, he noticed the picture of my dad and asked who it was. My friend noted that my dad was quite a handsome man. I sort of just let the comment pass and we moved on to something else, but the compliment stayed with me for the rest of the weekend. Maybe it was all the TV coverage about Memorial Day and the various remembrance ceremonies, or maybe it was that I had passed that picture thousands of times and he but once, and yet he took notice of it.

I picked up my dad's picture just now and looked at it for good long while. He was, in fact, a handsome young man, and he struck quite a pose in his officer's uniform. My dad served in the U. S. Army before, during, and after World War II. He earned the rank of Chief Warrant Officer and was stationed on the island of Okinawa during the last part of WW II. It was not a secret in our family that daddy loved the military and probably felt his biggest mistake was leaving the army before retiring. However, he rarely talked in much detail to me about his wartime experiences until near the end of his life. I would sit and listen as he spoke with a great sense of pride about his military service. It was obvious that he wouldn't trade those times for any other.

I'm glad I took the time on this Memorial Day to look at my dad's picture and to remember him and recall some of our time together. I thank my friend for noticing and thus reminding me to take time to remember. In addition to being a kind and gentle man, a wonderful father, and a patient and devoted husband, Earl Brady Hamrick served his country with honor and was indeed a member of the greatest generation.

Out of Sorts

I'm not sure if anyone noticed, but I didn't post a blog last week. I wanted to, I needed to, but I just couldn't do it. The truth is, since I got back from SOS, I've been "out of sorts." For those of you not from the South, "out of sorts" is simply a catch all diagnoses, most often used by ladies of my grandmother's era, to explain otherwise unexplainable ailments and illnesses. To make matters worse, for the last twelve days, I have been taking a mind altering drug that is supposed to help me dump my oldest and most dependable friend, Mr. Cigarette.

Chantix, a product of Pfizer Labs, is a 1mg pill, taken twice a day for a minimum of four months, with an additional three months also recommended, designed to "help ease" nicotine cessation. Simply put, Chantix's active ingredient Varenicline, binds with high affinity and selectivity, to neuronal nicotine acetylcholine receptors in the brain, thus preventing nicotine from binding to said receptors. Yep it's all that and a bag of chips, too for only $150 a month. By the way, insurance doesn't cover a dime.

Yes it's a little pricey, but you get a lot of extras and possible extras, that you don't get with that $6.00 pack of Merit Ultra Lights. The clinical name for these extras is "adverse reactions." They include, but are not limited to: rash, nausea, vomiting, constipation, flatulence, headaches, abnormal dreams, nightmares, insomnia, dry mouth, fatigue, lethargy, irritability, mood swings, depression, and not least but maybe last...suicide. It sounds pretty involved to me. With Merit Ultra Lights it seems much simpler: your lungs turn to brown goo, you can barely breathe, you get cancer and you die.

I first heard about Chantix from my friend Steve Dean. After Steve's doctor told him if he didn't quit smoking, in about a year his lungs were gonna turn to brown goo, he would hardly be able to breathe, and he would get cancer and die, Steve decided to try Chantix. I remember the Saturday morning Stevie told me he was gonna quit smoking. I took a big draw off my cigarette and thought sure...right...you go son, never believing he had a chance in hell of stopping. I told him I hoped he could, and I meant it, but I also told him, they would have to pry them out of my nicotine stain fingers before I'd give them up. Well it's been over a year and a half and my friend Steve is still on the wagon! God bless you my friend, you go son!

I really do have it in my mind to quit this time. I'm down to about 6 cigarettes a day now and I know my "quit date" is very close at hand. Already I miss smoking. It really is like losing a best friend, not to mention, I really think it's affecting my blog production. Poe had his opium, and Hemingway had his booze for inspiration and relaxation. Soon I won't even have my cigarettes. Now don't misunderstand me, I'm not comparing myself to, or insinuating that I am as recondite as Poe or as prolific as Hemingway. I'm just saying, "can't this brother have a crutch too."

It's good to finally get back to blogging. Hopefully if the "adverse reactions" don't get too bad, we'll chat again next week.

Spring SOS Recap

Another Spring SOS has come and gone. As always, I'm grateful for the chance to participate one more time. Like all of you who attended, I was really tired when I got back to Atlanta. I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with a sinus infection. Got a Rx and I'm feeling fine now.

I heard a lot of talk about it being a weird SOS in terms of the crowd. Many folks felt like the numbers of people were smaller and when they went to the various clubs they didn't see a lot folks they recognized. I too thought it was a weird SOS, but for reasons that I'll just keep my little secret. I will say this however, I knew or recognized the greater majority of the folks at The Pavilion when I played Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I appreciate that most of the same folks come back each SOS when I play. If nobody else thanks you, I'll thank you...THANK YOU!!

Maybe the SOS highlight for me this spring, was the opportunity to introduce the newest member of The Pavilion DJ family, young Jason Cagle. Jason played his first SOS set on Saturday before I came on. As I observed and listened to Jason, I felt he found his stride and did a fine job. I know he learned a lot that day and will continue to learn and get better. Hell, after all these years, I still learn something every time I play. Well done my young friend, the future of our music is in good hands.

I had several of my FB friends come up and introduce themselves to me and I appreciated them doing so. I never decline anyone who wants to be my FB friend even if I don't happen to know them. I figure if they're gutsy enough to want to call themselves my friend, I'm happy to have 'em. I especially enjoyed my brief chat with Kristy McDonald. She's a "straight shooter" and loves that old Pavilion every bit as much as I do. I also think that she and Marilyn Burrage are doing a fine job with "Boys in the OD Band". By the way, congratulations to all the new members of the band!

On a serious note, I'm quite sure that most everyone had that moment at some point during SOS. That moment when you thought about the terrible fire. Maybe you got a whiff of the smoke, or saw the ash float around in the air, or maybe it just sorta popped in your mind. You thought to yourself, "God bless those poor people." I just don't know what I would do if that happened to me. Maybe you even felt a little tinge of guilt for having a good time while just up the road a few miles peoples' dreams were being wiped away. Learn to appreciate what you have folks, while you have it. As we were reminded once again, you can lose it all in a blink.

I want to thank Pam and H. Lee for putting up with me for one more SOS. I love you guys! Thanks to all of you who came out when I played. Thanks to those of you who gave me words of encouragement regarding my blog. Thanks to those of you who bought my CD's. And last but not least, THANKS FOR NO REQUESTS!

Spring SOS 2009

Yes Oh Yes...It's SOS...Again! Spring and Fall SOS are the two events that get me the most wired of all the events in our community. Although I am about to DJ my 51st SOS, I still get as excited as a child on Christmas Eve. I think I'm lucky that it still affects me that way. Beside the fact that it's the biggest shag party of the season, I think I also still get excited because I have a deep appreciation for still being able to participate one more time.

Having been around this life style since high school and college, I've been fortunate to have darken the doors of many of the great old joints and honky tonks throughout the two Carolina's, as have many of you. I'm sure some, if not all of them will ring a bell with a lot of you: The Cellar, Coachman, Castaways, Bushes, Jokers, Four Winds, T-Club, Twilight Lounge, Jack's Palace, The Castle, Wit's End, D.A.V., Owl's Club, Tally Ho, Fiesta, Upstairs, Pawley's Pavilion, The Pad, The Beach Club, and many more. The singular thread that binds them together is...they no longer exist.

I would bet my life that not one of us, back in those days, ever gave a thought to the fact that all of these great joints would all be gone one day. I know I thought there would always be The Pad. This is yet another example of youth being wasted on the young.

I think about those great old joints, and other memories of the past, every time I step in that DJ booth at The Pavilion. I remind myself that our Pavilion too, will one day be only a memory.
I'm always excited and greatful for one more opportunity to play my music in that great old building.

Twenty six years ago H Lee Brown gave an unknown, little skinny "dj" from Newberry SC, a shot at playing, what would become, the biggest shag party on the planet. I hope he would agree that it worked out fairly good for both of us. This SOS, H Lee is again stepping up and giving another unknown, skinny little guy a shot. Young Jason Cagle out of Charlotte NC will be playing at the Pavilion on the last Saturday of SOS from 11am untill I come on at 3 o'clock. Young Jason knows and loves our music and he plays it from his soul. A good DJ is like a good song, they're both very hard to find, but when you hear one, it's so easy to recognize. I've been around this community a long time, and if my opinion counts with any of you, Young Jason is a good 'un! I hope you'll choose to slip away from the parade a little early and get down to the Pavilion and support Jason. I'm confident you won't be dissappointed. A special thanks to H Lee and Pam for bringing Jason into the fold.

Speaking of H Lee and Pam, I hope you will take the time to seek them out at SOS and thank them for providing us with this special place to re-live the past, share our memories, and make new ones. The Pavilion is a very special place and they are very special people.

This will be my last blog for a few weeks. Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read them and to comment. I know you won't always agree with what I write, but that's OK, just keep on reading. Y'all drive safe and hope to see ya at The Pavilion, Thursday the 23rd at 3 o'clock. LET'S BOOGIE WOOGIE !!!

Dead Ducks

Due to all the things that I need to get done in preparation for SOS, I had decided not to do a blog this week. However, after certain events occurred at the beach last week, I reconsidered. I am of course referring to the "Ducks Debacle."
Let me make a few things clear at the outset. To me, Ducks hasn't been Ducks since Norfleet Jones and Bob Baker turned over their keys. I haven't DJ'd at Ducks but twice since 1999 so it's not going to affect me if the joint lives or dies. But the demise of Ducks will affect a whole bunch of folks. My young friend William Green and the other members of Duck's staff who were cast aside like so much small change, will be greatly affected. The members of the shag community who enjoyed years of memories and who were loyal patrons, will be affected. Also I'm sure that as I write this piece, there are 15 or 20 DJ's looking for a port to weather this storm in.
Short and sweet, what you have here is, a fellow who came down to the beach, with a full bag of money, and an empty bag of history. He obviously had no conception of how things work at the beach, and never got a clue about who and what is important at the beach, and to the shag community as a whole. The first thing he did was to start tearing out the past and completely change the landscape of Ducks. He showed arrogant disregard for tradition, history, and what the folks felt comfortable with. He did away with as much of the past he possible could, and as quickly as he could. The past be damned! This was his club and he was hell bent to put his stamp on it. He turned a cozy little shag joint into a bowling alley. Well you did it your way...how'd that work for you?
Memo to the man from Charlotte: The shag world is about PRESERVATION! It's about HISTORY! The shag community's whole world revolves around THE PAST!
In my very first blog, I spoke about what money will buy you in the shag community. I said it could buy you those fancy "dance" shoes in a bag, and a few shag steps, but it can't buy you a history on the beach. You either lived it or you didn't. So too, a big bag of money and an even bigger ego, does not equal success in the shag joint business at the beach. But a sense of our history and knowing who the players are would likely give you a good head start.
The irony, it seems to me, is that the man who wanted to show us how it should be done at the beach, although he failed miserably, will, in the end, still have a legacy. He will forever be known as the man that killed Ducks.
As I have alluded to before, God blessed me and allowed me to be born in the great state of South Carolina, but I have lived the past 22 plus years in the Atlanta area. The "locals" of greater Atlanta, having had to deal with the influx of folks from the North, have a saying, "We don't give a damn how y'all did it up there...if you don't like the way we do it here...Delta's ready when you are"!
Memo to the man from Charlotte: "Highway 9 is ready when you are"!

Windy Hill Beach Here We Come

Since, to my knowledge, there were no major events this past weekend in the shag world for me to pontificate on, I'll take this opportunity to ramble and reminisce. Before I wrote my first blog I made a list of blog ideas. I, of course, included all the major events in "our" world, SOS, Nationals, HOF, etc., but I also made a list of people, places, and things that I have experienced over the years that mean something to me, if to no one else.

By the grace of God, I was born in the great state of South Carolina, in Columbia to be exact. Once again God shed his light on me and allowed me to grow up in Newberry. My daddy worked in a cotton mill and we lived there until about March of my junior year in high school. Gotta be honest here, I wouldn't trade growing up in Newberry for anywhere else in the world, but I wouldn't want to live there now. Anyone who grew up in the South knows that the mills always "shut down" for the week of July 4th. For me and my family that meant, Windy Hill Beach here we come! Mama and daddy would rent the top half of the same second row house every year. Oh, and every year we shared that house with my aunt and uncle and cousin Larry from Winnsboro S.C.

My Mama can, and always has been able to get the most bang for her buck. Youseeopie, the second row was cheaper than the front row. The upstairs unit catches more of the ocean breeze than the downstairs unit. ( Think No AC! ) Also if we split the cost of the house with Aunt Juanita and Uncle Wesley, we'll have money to take you and your brother to the rides one night at Ocean Drive. Nuff said.

My daddy, Uncle Wesley, and my older brother, Jerry, spent most of their days on the Windy Hill fishing pier. Daddy and Uncle Wesley would take a break from fishing late in the afternoon and slip over to Moonies beer joint across the street from the pier, and toss back a few cold ones before supper. Cousin Larry and I spent our days in the ocean, pretty much tormenting anybody stupid enough to come within 20 feet of us. Mama and Aunt Juanita, among other things, spent their days sitting and walking on the beach. Of course Mama spent a lot of her time screaming at me to stop this or stop that, and come in closer to the shore, and threatening to kill me, or worse, not take me to the rides in Ocean Drive if I didn't. Mama always seemed to know how to get her baby boy to act right.

Below L to R: My brother Jerry, Cousin Larry, and Little Tommy

After supper, right about dusk, when everybody else was settling in to watch T.V., mama would let me walk the block and a half down to the Windy Hill Pavilion. This was my favorite thing to do at the beach, except of course, going to O.D. on Wednesday night to ride the rides. There was something magical to a little five or six year old boy from Newberry, about the colorful neon signs, the pin ball machines, and my absolute favorite, the juke box. I would put my money in and play my favorite songs of the day and dance by myself in front of the juke box. Folks didn't seem to mind, in fact they seemed to enjoy it so much that they would toss coins on the floor to me. Even at that tender age I knew how to "manage" money. When the song was over and the dance ended, I would pick up the coins and promptly "re-invest" them in to that magical music machine and continue to dance.

Uncle Wesley, Aunt Juanita, and daddy are all gone now. So too, the house on the second row, the fishing pier, Moonies, the Pavilion, and the rides at O.D. Hell, there's not even a Windy Hill or an Ocean Drive anymore. There's only a "North Myrtle Beach". What I said earlier about Newberry applies here as well, it was a great place to grow up...but I wouldn't care to live there now.