Riff: Joe Taylor The epicenter on the west coast for rock ‘n’ roll music in the late ‘60s, ‘70s and early ‘80s was Los Angeles’ Sunset Strip and Tower Records, which stood at Sunset Boulevard and Horn Avenue. Scores of bands and musicians performed there, and people came from all over to absorb the cultural phenomenon that would eventually become the soundtrack for the baby boomer generation. In the middle of the creative and cultural maelstrom was a west Texas billboard artist by the name of Joe Taylor. From a tiny farming town outside of Lubbock, Taylor’s first apartment in 1969 was on Sunset Strip across from Tower Records.
In an unpublished 2016 autobiography called “Art & Music,” Taylor chronicled the times and his remarkable career. In it, he describes a weekend on the Strip: “Sunset Strip pedestrian traffic in front of Tower was literally spilling over . . . people from every level were on the street: hippies, weekend hippies, runaways, rock stars, soldiers, Hare Krishna devotees in their orange dresses, Jesus Freaks preaching the Gospel, occultists promoting the worship of Satan, actors, musicians, people out for a date, cute chicks, millionaires, music producers and me.”
So iconic were the times, that in 2015, Colin Hanks, son of actor Tom Hanks, released a documentary about the scene at Tower Records called, “All Things Must Pass.”
Joe Taylor’s penchant for art came early and after a couple of years in art school, he left Texas and landed in L.A. His talent quickly revealed itself and he spent the years between 1972 and 1986 painting album covers for billboards and for the exterior of Tower Records. By 1973, he was their main painter. Commissions came not only from Tower but from other artists and businesses, and his own company, “Album Art.”
For Tower, he painted the major stars of the late ‘70s and ‘80s like James Taylor, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin, B. W. Stevenson, Elton John, Peter Frampton, The Who, David Bowie, Olivia Newton John, Lynyrd Skynyrd, John Denver, Dolly Parton, Carly Simon, Joe Cocker, Anne Murray, Helen Reddy, Mac Davis, Waylon Jennings, Loretta Lynn and others.
While some of his works were painted over, 22 survived, thanks to his own initiative and his technique of painting with oils and enamel on Masonite. He was paid $50 for each panel, he wrote in his autobiography, and to preserve them, he “bought them back from Tower Records for $40.”
Fully integrated into the neighborhood where he worked, he knew some of the performers he painted well — like Olivia Newton John, whom he wrote, “stole my dawg.”
Taylor was himself a sometime musician, occasional producer and fulltime character. A self-described “Jesus Freak,” he wore his hair and beard long throughout his life. In an even more curious wrinkle to Taylor’s story was the fact that he became a father to 11 children who needed homes. Although he remained unmarried, his legacy today includes 21 grandchildren and 12 great grandchildren.
A man of many talents, he eventually returned to his home town where he pursued paleontology. He owned and operated the Mt. Blanco Fossil Co. Museum on Main Street where he reproduced the skeletons of huge creatures in plaster and painted them to resemble artifacts. He died in March at the age of 78, leaving a brother, Tom Taylor.
Not long after Joe’s death, Tom contacted Bodie Hudson, a childhood friend and Dripping Springs resident who grew up near Crosbyton. Her own musical career included singing with the Austin music comedy duo, the Geezinslaw Brothers. The nightclub, performance space and music school, Hudson’s on Mercer in Dripping Springs, belongs to Chad and Natasha Hudson, Bodie’s son and daughter-in-law. Tom asked Bodie to help him find a home for his late brother’s art and musical artifacts. Bodie agreed to help.
Twelve of the sixfoot- by-six-foot panels can be seen at Hudson’s on Mercer in Dripping Springs. One, James Taylor’s “Walking Man,” bears his autograph. The panels can be viewed during regular hours from 4 to 11 p.m., Wednesday through Saturday. While Tom Taylor would like to see the entire collection go together, he is willing to entertain individual offers. To inquire about this slice of cultural history, contact Bodie Hudson at (512) 468-2270.
Roam: 7A Ranch and Pioneer Town
If you haven’t had the occasion to visit this Wimberley treasure just off River Road on Wayside Drive, make an effort to do so soon. It began as a dream in 1946 for Raymond L. Czichos and his wife, Madge, who bought seven acres along the Blanco River with the aim of building a family vacation getaway. In 1956, Pioneer Town was added as an attraction for visitors. Disaster struck on Memorial Day 2015 when a historic flood washed away many of 7A’s cabins and numerous venerable trees. In 2016, Wimberley resident Scott Way, along with partners, purchased 7A. The original seven acres grew into 142, and 7A now boasts 19 cabins, three lodges, and two four-room units.
In the last several years, repairs and improvements have relaunched the 24-gauge train, now called The Pioneer Express, and shepherded the rebirth of the Opera House. Get a splendid reintroduction to this iconic destination during Haunted Pioneer Town and the Train Ride of Terror event held October 27 to 29. This collaboration between the Wimberley Players and 7A Ranch will delight families and visitors of all ages. For more information, go to wimberleyplayers. org.
Rave: Honky Tonk Heaven, The Legend of the Broken Spoke
If you didn’t get a chance to see Brenda Mitchell’s documentary on the Broken Spoke at StoryFest last week, make a date with someone you like, ice down a couple of longnecks, and keyboard it over to Amazon Prime and see it for yourself. This 74-minute documentary rings all the bells. At turns, it mesmerizes, chronicles, and entertains in ways that will make you laugh out loud, shed a tear, and beam a little with pride for the heritage we are so fortunate to enjoy. It reveals the 50-year career of the late James White and his wife, Annetta, who turned a ramshackle old building on South Lamar into a legend.
You’ll love White, who, by all accounts, was an honorable, openhearted man who had a dream to open a dancehall like those he experienced as a kid. You’ll grin as he shows you all the places the roof leaked, the low-ceilinged stage that barely fit the likes of Ray Benson, and the photographs of the time a bus crashed into the bar.
Much of this story is told by the musicians who adopted the Spoke’s dancehall formula: “Drop your ego and assume the role of a dance band leader. Play three-minute polkas, shovels, waltzes, and a straight country beat (or else you’ll wear the dancers out) and don’t even think about noodling around on stage with a solo nobody wants to hear.”
Jerry Jeff Walker was a longtime headliner back in the day and at 3 a.m., someone had the task of getting Jerry Jeff home. It was affectionately known as “Jerry duty.” Randy Travis once mailed his autographed dinner plate back to the Spoke when his manager hustled him off before he could finish one of Annetta’s chicken fried steaks. One hilarious story after another articulates the world inside the legendary dancehall. At times, the film proved so compelling that I actually thought I’d stepped onto dance floor myself. Kudos to Ms. Mitchell and producer Jeffrey Brown for delivering a home run worthy of the subject it set out to cover.
