NASHVILLE IN 1963-64 PLAYING GUITAR AND SINGING AT SKULL SCHULMAN’S RAINBOW ROOM WAS LIKE BEING PRIVY TO THE COUNTRY VERSION OF THE HEEHAW GAMBINO FAMILY;

BACK THEN, THE STREETS DID NOT FEEL LIKE YOU WERE DRIVING IN A VISE LIKE YOU DO TODAY, ALL SQUEEZED LIKE PARANOID CEMENT, NASHVILLE WAS LAZY AS STONED DUST.

THE CAST OF CON-ARTISTS, GRIFTERS AND POMPADOURED HOODS THAT FREQUENTED THE RAINBOW ROOM WERE THE QUINTESSENTIAL MAMA DADDY ANGEL- DEVILS THAT POURED IN OUT OF THE COUNTRYSIDES FROM OUTLYING DEAD TENNESSEE TOWNS THAT OFFERED NOTHING TO YOUNG CHURNING MINDS BUT SLOW UN-GRATIFYING BUMPKIN CAFE’S , MONGREL FEED SUPPLY STORES AND USUALLY ONE SAD DILAPIDATED MOVIE THEATER THAT COULD BURN DOWN IF YOU SPIT ON IT.

CERTAIN PEOPLE IN NASHVILLE THAT WERE HERE IN THOSE DAYS HAVE TOLD ME THEY DON’T REMEMBER ANY OF THE PEOPLE I HAVE MENTIONED IN THIS BOOK, PEOPLE THAT HUNG OUT IN THE RAINBOW ROOM AND KNEW SKULL ON AN ACQUAINTANCE LEVEL.

THIS IS BECAUSE THESE CHARACTERS OPERATED ON A VERY HIGH LEVEL OF SECRECY, NEVER REVEALING TO ANYONE THE CONFIDENCE GAMES THEY PULLED OFF WITH RESOURCE AND SAGACITY.. ODDLY ENOUGH, THE ONLY ONES WHO KNEW THEM INTIMATELY WAS SKULL AND MYSELF TO A CERTAIN POINT.

THESE PEOPLE LIKED ME AND LOOKED OUT AFTER ME AS IF THEY WERE MY REAL FAMILY, ALWAYS SLIPPING ME 20’S AND 50’S THAT HAD BEEN GRIFTED OUT OF ONE OF THEIR MARKS ON SOME SHORT END CON.

THEY KNEW I WAS DEADLY SERIOUS ABOUT BECOMING A SUCCESSFUL SONGWRITER, A SONGWRITER THAT WOULD SOMEDAY MAKE A DIFFERENCE AND CONTRIBUTE MUSIC TO THE WORLD THAT WOULD HOPEFULLY CHANGE IT FOR THE BETTER;

I WAS ONLY 21, ON MY OWN AND SUPERCHARGED AS A FIRE ENGINE HORSE…

I KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING WAS WRONG, BUT THE WAY I LOOKED AT WAS THOSE PEOPLE WOULD HAVE ONLY BEEN TAKEN DOWN ANYWAY SOMEWHERE DOWN THE LINE BY A TELE-EVANGELIST, USED CAR SALES PERSON, OR SOME SMALL TIME THUG SELLING MATCH BOX WEED FULL OF THYME AND OREGANO..

IN 1964 I WAS SURROUNDED BY THE WILDEST BUNCH OF HIGH-TIME LOW LIFE ANGELS THIS SIDE OF PEARLY GATE NUMBER TEN;

I WAS A WIDE OPEN RUNNING FREE FAUCET HITTING EVERYTHING DEAD CENTER. NINE MONTHS LATER I WOULD MEET KRIS KRISTOFFERSON HEAD ON IN A PULVERIZING INTRODUCTION AT THE THE RAINBOW ROOM.

by Chris Gantry
www.ChrisGantry.com