It’s Willie Wednesday, a good day for a sneak preview of my tribute to Poodie Locke, which will be in the Austin City Limits Festival program this weekend. Thanks to ACL; love to all of Poodie’s family and friends. turk
It’s Friday night at Poodie’s Hilltop, the Spicewood, Texas roadhouse founded by Texas music legend, Randall “Poodie” Locke. For over three decades, Poodie has been Willie Nelson’s stage manager, a great friend of up-and-coming Texas music acts, and the most popular party animal since Norm on Cheers.
But tonight you won’t find many people in a partying mood. The place is packed and there’s a great band on stage, but a hush sweeps across the room as Gloria Locke, mother of the long-ago “most beautiful baby in Waco”, slowly crosses the room to her customary seat in front of the stage. Mama Locke and a whole lot of friends have come to pay their last respects to a man who showed them how to make great music, hard work and good times into the meaning of life.
Inside the club is not the only place that Poodie is missed. Right outside the door, Asleep at the Wheel’s tour bus is stuck on the steep turn from Highway 71 to the parking lot. Driver, roadies and onlookers study the front and back bumpers dug into the pavement at both ends and someone says, “Never woulda happened if Poodie had been here.”
Poodie was a problem solver. For over three decades, he was the grease that made things run smooth for seven or eight thousand Willie & Family concerts in all 50 States and a whole lot of foreign countries. How he did it in Amsterdam, I can only imagine.
Raised in Waco, Texas – not far from Willie’s boyhood home in Abbott – Poodie was just 12-years-old when he first met The Red-Headed Stranger, who was playing bass at the time for Ray Price. Not too many years later, in 1975, Poodie was road-managing for Texas songwriter BW Stevenson when Willie offered him a slightly larger job. A couple of months later, Willie released Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain and, after twenty years in the business, Willie Nelson was an overnight sensation.
“We went on tour for eight days,” said Poodie, “And we didn’t come home for eight months.”
The next 34 years were a wild ride, and no one spurred the bull any harder than Poodie. Always ready for a cold beer, a shot of moonshine and whatever else was offered, he made a million friends. I was fortunate to have shared a lot of cold drinks, golf, music and fun with Poodie in wildly varying locations.
One night in Vegas when Willie had just moved his casino concerts from the Desert Inn to The Orleans, Poodie asked if I wanted to run out for a cold one between shows. We saw a bar across the street that neither of us knew and made a dash for it. When we stepped inside the door and stopped to survey the crowd, about fifty heads swiveled toward Poodie’s prominent profile at the door. There was a long beat, then half the room called out in perfect unison, “Poodie!”
One measure of his popularity – both of the Willie band buses had the same sign on the door: “Poodie’s on the other bus.”
Finding him backstage was as good as gold, because Poodie usually had the perfect place on stage to put friends who wanted to watch the show. He barely knew my daughter Lily, but always remembered that she’s a piano player and would find her a spot on stage right so she could watch Sister Bobbie’s hands move effortlessly up and down the keys.
I had a choice spot on the big stage for the last Austin City Limits festival gig Poodie managed with Willie. An hour after Willie’s set, the gear was all packed and Poodie was climbing on the bus. “That was fast,” I told him. “Best run festival we ever played,” he told me. “Pass that along to Charles and Charlie.” And I promptly forgot to deliver the message… till now.
Poodie loved to play golf – and bragged that the game had saved his life by replacing the bottomless pile of cocaine that claimed so many in the 70s and 80s. For years he was one of centerpieces of the freewheeling game at Willie’s Pedernales Golf Club, a seething mass of a dozen or more golfers, each in their own cart and all playing for vast sums of money and pride. When the last tee shot had been struck, we’d race off to claim the best drives as our own.
“May the man with the fastest cart win!” Willie would proclaim. Poodie’s cart was fast, but Willie’s was faster.
His famous friends could have filled a hundred tour buses. He taught the Dali Lama to make the Hook ‘em Horns sign; traded golf tips with Dennis Hopper and took wild midnight rides with Hunter Thompson. But in his whole life, Poodie only asked for two autographs and got them both – John Wayne and Walter Cronkite. The man had class.
Poodie and Owen Wilson in Willie's video, You Don't Think I'm Funny Anymore
Last year Poodie was immortalized in a hilarious video of Willie’s song “You Don’t Think I’m Funny Anymore.” Even with Woody Harrelson, the Wilson Brothers, Jessica Simpson and Dan Rather in the video, it was Poodie who stole the show as a rotund woman who was deeply infatuated with Owen Wilson.
After a long take with Poodie’s head and blonde wig locks on his shoulder, Owen looked at me and said, “What am I doing?”
“Having the time of your life!” I replied. Owen grinned, and I noticed in the next take that he seemed downright fond of the nearness of Poodie.
With his protruding stomach that was positively Falstaffian, it wasn’t easy to get near Poodie. For years I patted him on his big tummy and said, “When are the puppies due?”
“Soon, Big Boy!” Poodie would say. “Soon!”
Everyone told him he should go easy on the butter beans and the beer and take better care of himself, but Poodie was having none of that. Maybe he knew his heart would get him. Maybe he didn’t care.
His slogan, “There are no bad days” hung on a sign outside the club he founded in Spicewood.
I was with Willie, band and crew for a gig in Maui, and Willie treated everyone – thirty in all – to dinner and drinks at Mama’s Fishhouse. Sitting soft by the waves with its own little beach, life doesn’t get any better than Mama’s. We were there for hours, with Poodie grinning like a fool as he kept handing me double frozen pina coladas with a rum floater.
“I’m the luckiest guy alive,” he told me that night. We’ve outlived every band and road crew, and we’re still playing every night.”
His funeral service in Waco was described as a private, family service. A thousand people showed up. Even more came to a tribute show – Poodie’s Picnic – at the old Backyard in Bee Cave. But for me, the place to pay my respects was at the club that bore his name, on the night after we lost him.
With Ray Benson’s bus finally unstuck, the audience was anxious for Asleep at the Wheel to play some dancing music that would lighten the mood. The Wheel took the stage and with the crowd so loud they could barely hear his guitar, Ray began to pick out the delicate melody of one of Willie’s most emotional songs. Just as the crowd fell into silence, Ray began to sing more softly than I’ve ever heard him.
It’s the very first day since you left me
And I’ve tried to put my thoughts in a song
And all I can hear myself saying
Is I still can’t believe you’re gone
All around me bikers, barmaids, hippies and rednecks began to wipe the tears from their eyes. I was doing the same when I realized we were in the middle of a perfect country song. Steve Goodman – who penned City of New Orleans and was yet another great Poodie Pal – once conspired with David Allan Coe to prove that the perfect country song had to have heartache, a hero, getting drunk, someone’s Mama and a train. The only thing we were missing was a train. And then I realized, Poodie was the train. The rest of us, we were just along for the ride.
The crowd hardly noticed when Ray’s band eased into the song, but lemme tell you, not many bands can bring it like The Wheel, and everyone in that band could feel where this train was headed.
“You’re gone and I’m alone and I’m still living,” Ray wailed from deep inside. “I don’t like it but I’ll take it till I’m strong.”
And somehow, we knew we would.
When the song ended, everyone raised their glasses high, and just like in that bar in Vegas, they called out in unison – “Poodie!”
And just for an instant, I thought I saw him standing in the door.
Turk Pipkin is the co-author of The Tao of Willie, which he wrote with Willie Nelson. You can listen to Willie’s original version of “I Still Can’t Believe You’re Gone” on the 1974 album, Phases and Stages.
I should also have mentioned that Farm Aid is this weekend in St. Louis, another big event where Poodie will be missed, and yet another long-term commitment by Willie to America’s small farmers and sustainable agriculture. Online at: http://www.farmaid.org. Worthy of our support. Buy local – you’ll live longer!
Nice Turk, real nice. What more can be said?
PFFP
Turk,
I’ve been a fan of your way with words for a long time, but I have to tell you that, this, I believe, was one of your best.
I’d met Poodie several times, had my picture made with him in Spicewood at Poodie’s Hilltop, but I could never consider him or really knew him as a close friend.
This is why I was so surprised when I felt such a loss when he died.
But I think Poodie had this effect upon people, even those who had only met him briefly.
I love your tribute to him, I wish peace for his family and friends, and I will always miss Poodie, one of my “closest acquaintances!!”
Of course, I’m also a Willie fan-atic!
Thanks, Turk, for sharing your very special feelings with all of us.
“And just for an instant, I thought I saw him standing in the door.” I believe that you probably did see him. I’d swear I saw him, backstage, the last time I saw Willie. I glanced up, and I thought I saw Poodie, looked back and he was gone. I truly believe that Poodie will, forever, be at every Willie show.
Still teary when I think about Poodie but so happy to have, as Alice said, been “acquainted” with him over these last 20 yrs. I’ll always remember the last time I hugged him in Roanoke, VA, last Feb.
Again, Thank you and I wish you peace & healing.
That is such a beautiful tribute, brings yet another tear to my eyes. Thank you Turk for your thoughtful and elegant story.
Turk,
Great review of the Poodie Show! As they were all Poodie Shows, Willie just sang most of the Time! Yes, He was the King of the Road! We are all still missing him, and I hope that never ends. Long Live the Poodie Legend! The golf course, the road, the stage. \No Bad Days\
Trey Stamps
Very Nice Turk. A Few years ago I was setting outside Poodies with Poodie thinking about another friend we had lost, Dee Herrera. I had brought a large bottle of Tequila I had saved for 20 years. I had let all Dees closest friends have a shot from the bottle. Poodie had taken his turn and as we set there as the sun was going down, just the two of us kindred spirits I took one last drag from the almost empty bottle. There was still a healthy amount and I stood up in front of Poodie and said, “Poodie I think you should kill the bottle. Dee loved you and this place and I think its only right you kill it.” After the last drop he said that was the very best Tequila he had ever tasted. I still have the empty bottle!
Four years later my drink was not Tequila it was Whisky River. I was standing beside Tim at The Back Porch petting his parrot and talking to him and Bugs Henderson and saying “What do you mean I have drank you out of Whisky River, You have 5 bars! He said ” I can’t help it you drank all the Whisky River Danny.” This time I had lost another dear friend and was toasting him with what else but Whisky River. It was Poodies memorial and I still couldn‘t believe he was gone. ! That day at Dee’s memorial years ago Poodie had brought a bottle too. It was more like a Jug. A Jug of Moonshine. Poodie always had some! We emptied that bottle together too.
I think I will get a new bottle of Whisky River because I can’t find moonshine like Poodie. I might just put it up for 20 years too. Poodie the last shot is yours!
Willie and many of us get an email every year on Dee’s birthday telling us to drink a frozen Margarita in Dee’s honor , on the Anniversary of his death. Because Dee invented the frozen Margarita Mix. This year it said “Drink one in memory of Dee and have one for Poodie too!” I can just imagine what those two are up to up there! I swear I can hear them laughing though!
Great reflection on Poodie. Got to know Poodie at several of WIllie’s show and he always had his big grin on his face and two WIllie picks for me at every show. I noticed the picks in the picture. Do you know where I can get one of the picks. It would be ultimate addition to my Willie pick collection.
Been to see Willie 4-5 times since Poodie’s last show and it is not the same. Have not gotten a Willie pick since Poodie’s passing.
Thanks everyone for all the great comments and emails. And thanks to BudRocks who sent a bunch of photos which I received too late to get into the issue. Have to add his comments about playing golf with Poodie in every state but Alaska, and in buddy’s words…
“While touring with Willie we’ve been lucky enought to play rounds of Golf in Canada, Mexico, Ireland, England, Scotland, Norway, Sweden, Germany, Brazil, Singapore, Australia, and New Zealand.
Poodie and Myself had an ongoing death match with Kris Kristofferson & Willie when we were touring with the Highwaymen. We once got lost on a 36 hole layout in Adelaide, Australia after playing past dark. All 4 of us were walking and we didn’t know the layout. We played into complete darkness. After wandering for awhile we split up to look for the clubhouse (before cell phones) and by the time we all found each other, it was almost midnight.
We played with Waylon Jennings when he thought he wanted to take up golf. I remember dodging kangaroos that day. Playing with Kris and Willie in Singapore, I remember a monkey stealing Poodies golf ball and running up a tree and taunting Poodie.”
Thanks, Buddy for more great stories.
I enjoyed reading every word…we all have our stories and we can’t help but smile when we think of POODIE, right? It was fun on Poodie’s bus and I remember the first time I met Mama Locke, we passed the yellow wine around quite a few times and CP Vaughn is the one that introduced me. I didn’t want to get off the bus until I could walk straight, but then again I had to watch Willie with my Club Luck buddies, and so I did. He was Poodielicious and I will always feel his presence at a Willie concert, and at Poodie’s Hilltop…Peace
Poodie…..
There has not been a day gone by since May 6 that I haven’t thought of Poodie, and usually not just once. I met him seventeen years ago in The Irish Pub in Atlantic City. I had no idea how much my life would change…. You are so right: I still can’t believe he’s gone, and I can’t believe how much I miss him.
Thank you for writing this piece.
Happy Birthday in Heaven Poodie!
Take care of my dog Murray with a backstage pass in heaven,
and thanks for all my dog’s backstage passes here.
I hope he is on the bus with you, as he always was here.
I won’t be calling you this year on my cell.
Your good friend forever, Loren
Thank you. Love is so real in your words and in the hearts of everyone who came in contact with Poodie. He lived a great life and left so much more than he came with. What a legacy. You did a great job sharing it with us. Thank you.
We should all be so loved, cherished, and remembered. Here’s to a life well-lived and full of what life is supposed to be – at least as how I see it and, I suspect, as do most of those who knew the man Poodie. Save a place at the table for all of us up there in that Heavenly Home.
I had the pleasure of Poodie’s friendship for over 35 years, he is missed by all. A true legend in his own time. I remember being on the Red Headed Stranger Tour in 1975 where Poodie put BBQ on the rider as the crew meal, well after 45 days of BBQ in a row, Poodie always kept his life long smile on. I know Poodie is enjoying BBQ & music in Heaven.