Tex Ritter 1972
I lived in Nashville, TN, from 1971-73. My first job out of college was at a Kodak film processing center on West End Avenue, ruining our customers precious pictures by hanging their undeveloped Instamatic film in total darkness for 8 hours a day. Most of the film I hung on the automated developing thing fell into the developing bath and had to be fished out later; or it would stick to other people's film throughout the entire process. The people I worked for were incredibly laid back about my almost daily fuckups. I have no idea why I wasn't fired on the spot after my first day, but they all seemed to like me or something.
I decided working in total darkness wasn't my future, so that fall I applied for a job waiting tables at Friday's Restaurant on Elliston Place. I lied about my restaurant experience - none - and after a day as a busboy they started me with a full section of tables.
Friday's back then bore no resemblance to the horrible chain that you see everywhere today. In 1971 there were only three Fridays - the original in New York City, a second in Memphis, and the one in Nashville. Liquor by the drink had just been legalized in Tennessee when I arrived, and Friday's was the first place to capitalize on the new "singles bar" scene. Business was brisk.
A guy named Walter Harwood, another of the nighttime wait staff, saw instantly that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing and took me under his wing. He taught me everything I needed to know so I wouldn't get canned after my first month. I got to know the other waiters on both shifts, and we'd hang out together on our days off, smoking weed and cruising the bar scene. Before our shift we'd meet at the Elliston Place Soda Shop down the street for burgers and milkshakes.
I made a shitload of money at Friday's over the next ten months and saved all of it since I was paying only $40 a month rent - I slept on a guy's couch - and eating only at the Soda Shop (cheap) or Friday's (free). I left town for the summer, flew to London and stayed with friends off and on for six weeks, and returned to Nashville penniless.
Walter let me stay with him for awhile on my return, telling me that this new bar was about to open up on Division Street near Vanderbilt University and that he was in tight with the future manager. Still under construction, the place was going to be huge. One of the owners was this young rich guy who'd been one of the original investors in Friday's, and I knew he liked me ok. The other owner, though, was Tex Ritter, one of the great singin' cowboys who'd made his mark on Hollywood back in the 40s; and, along with Hopalong Cassidy, the Lone Ranger, and Roy Rogers, Tex was definitely one of my early tv heroes.
While the new bar - to be called the Cumberland Valley Jockey Club (or "Jock's") - was being built, Walter and I waited tables at another of the restaurants Tex owned, right across the parking lot. We were the ONLY waiters there too, working double shifts. We did our jobs well, but it was fucking easy after the utter chaos we were trained to endure at Friday's.
One day at lunch Tex Ritter came in to meet me and Walter, and I waited on his table. He was not tall, but he had an enormous gut. Smoked a meerschaum pipe, which I thought was oddly out of character. The other owner had warned me in advance that Tex didn't like hippies, and Tex kind of glowered at me throughout the meal.
He grew to like me, though. The two owners came in for lunch together often after that day, and I always waited on them. Tex actually asked to sit in my section. That was unbelievably cool. When he came to the table I'd greet him with, "Hello, Mr. Ritter!" and he'd look at me, smile, and say, "Hello, young feller!"
Jock's opened in the fall and was hugely successful. A lot of music people would come in, since Jock's was situated very close to the recording studios. Guitar legend Chet Atkins would come in. Dobie Gray, who was enjoying a huge hit with "Drift Away", was a regular who would hang out with us at the bar. Lots of people from Quadraphonic Studios - Norbert Putnam, David Briggs, Jerry Kennedy - were there every day. Waylon Jennings would sit with Shel Silverstein nearly every day at Happy Hour.
That December I finagled a week off to fly down to Charleston to visit with my family for Christmas. Before I left I bought an lp of Tex's "Greatest Hits" and asked him if he'd mind signing it for my sister Ruthie's Christmas present from me. He said he'd be delighted. He asked me what her name was, and I told him that her middle name was "Tisdale" and that she'd call herself "Dale" when we played cowboys and Indians as children. He thought that was hilarious, so he signed it just as you see it above. Film buffs will recognize his quote as the opening lyrics to the "Theme From High Noon", which Tex sang in the film.
Ruthie loved her gift and displayed it in her home in Washington, DC, for years. When she died in 2007 I inherited this from her estate. One of the many treasures Ruthie left for me to care for.
Tex Ritter 1972
I lived in Nashville, TN, from 1971-73. My first job out of college was at a Kodak film processing center on West End Avenue, ruining our customers precious pictures by hanging their undeveloped Instamatic film in total darkness for 8 hours a day. Most of the film I hung on the automated developing thing fell into the developing bath and had to be fished out later; or it would stick to other people's film throughout the entire process. The people I worked for were incredibly laid back about my almost daily fuckups. I have no idea why I wasn't fired on the spot after my first day, but they all seemed to like me or something.
I decided working in total darkness wasn't my future, so that fall I applied for a job waiting tables at Friday's Restaurant on Elliston Place. I lied about my restaurant experience - none - and after a day as a busboy they started me with a full section of tables.
Friday's back then bore no resemblance to the horrible chain that you see everywhere today. In 1971 there were only three Fridays - the original in New York City, a second in Memphis, and the one in Nashville. Liquor by the drink had just been legalized in Tennessee when I arrived, and Friday's was the first place to capitalize on the new "singles bar" scene. Business was brisk.
A guy named Walter Harwood, another of the nighttime wait staff, saw instantly that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing and took me under his wing. He taught me everything I needed to know so I wouldn't get canned after my first month. I got to know the other waiters on both shifts, and we'd hang out together on our days off, smoking weed and cruising the bar scene. Before our shift we'd meet at the Elliston Place Soda Shop down the street for burgers and milkshakes.
I made a shitload of money at Friday's over the next ten months and saved all of it since I was paying only $40 a month rent - I slept on a guy's couch - and eating only at the Soda Shop (cheap) or Friday's (free). I left town for the summer, flew to London and stayed with friends off and on for six weeks, and returned to Nashville penniless.
Walter let me stay with him for awhile on my return, telling me that this new bar was about to open up on Division Street near Vanderbilt University and that he was in tight with the future manager. Still under construction, the place was going to be huge. One of the owners was this young rich guy who'd been one of the original investors in Friday's, and I knew he liked me ok. The other owner, though, was Tex Ritter, one of the great singin' cowboys who'd made his mark on Hollywood back in the 40s; and, along with Hopalong Cassidy, the Lone Ranger, and Roy Rogers, Tex was definitely one of my early tv heroes.
While the new bar - to be called the Cumberland Valley Jockey Club (or "Jock's") - was being built, Walter and I waited tables at another of the restaurants Tex owned, right across the parking lot. We were the ONLY waiters there too, working double shifts. We did our jobs well, but it was fucking easy after the utter chaos we were trained to endure at Friday's.
One day at lunch Tex Ritter came in to meet me and Walter, and I waited on his table. He was not tall, but he had an enormous gut. Smoked a meerschaum pipe, which I thought was oddly out of character. The other owner had warned me in advance that Tex didn't like hippies, and Tex kind of glowered at me throughout the meal.
He grew to like me, though. The two owners came in for lunch together often after that day, and I always waited on them. Tex actually asked to sit in my section. That was unbelievably cool. When he came to the table I'd greet him with, "Hello, Mr. Ritter!" and he'd look at me, smile, and say, "Hello, young feller!"
Jock's opened in the fall and was hugely successful. A lot of music people would come in, since Jock's was situated very close to the recording studios. Guitar legend Chet Atkins would come in. Dobie Gray, who was enjoying a huge hit with "Drift Away", was a regular who would hang out with us at the bar. Lots of people from Quadraphonic Studios - Norbert Putnam, David Briggs, Jerry Kennedy - were there every day. Waylon Jennings would sit with Shel Silverstein nearly every day at Happy Hour.
That December I finagled a week off to fly down to Charleston to visit with my family for Christmas. Before I left I bought an lp of Tex's "Greatest Hits" and asked him if he'd mind signing it for my sister Ruthie's Christmas present from me. He said he'd be delighted. He asked me what her name was, and I told him that her middle name was "Tisdale" and that she'd call herself "Dale" when we played cowboys and Indians as children. He thought that was hilarious, so he signed it just as you see it above. Film buffs will recognize his quote as the opening lyrics to the "Theme From High Noon", which Tex sang in the film.
Ruthie loved her gift and displayed it in her home in Washington, DC, for years. When she died in 2007 I inherited this from her estate. One of the many treasures Ruthie left for me to care for.