Bobby Cartlidge - Pecos 7 A.M. Interview

I was born in Athens, Texas; a fifth generation Texan on one side of my family and 6th generation on the other. Music always been in my family; my Grandpa Cartlidge played the French harp (harmonica), and was hell on the Jew’s harp. He also had a great singing voice with his high tenor. I can recall him singing Bill Monroe bluegrass songs while working in his grade before I started first grade in 1957. My Father had a National steel guitar that he played around with, but never got proficient on. In the US Navy he had been an officer’s chef on an escort aircraft carrier, and had all these black sailors under his direction in the galley. They had dozens of blues records, which my Dad learned to love, and after the war was over, he bought this huge guitar with the intent of teaching himself. Also, late at night on Friday and Saturday nights he and I would stay up late and listen to this radio program, “Randy’s Record Mart” on station WLAC (1510 AM) which was a 50,000 watt clear channel signal.

The DJ’s would play old blues artists, like Big Bill Broonzy, Son House, Robert Johnson, and others, and that gutsy raw emotional music got inside of me, which in turn influence rock music for the ages. I remember listening to the Corner Cafe (of Trinidad) juke box and hearing Fats Domino & Little Richard and their rocking piano tunes. So, as a child I wanted to learn the piano, but my parents could not afford one. My Mom would drop my sister and me off at our babysitter’s house when she had errands and her teenage son had a set of Ludwig drums in their living room. He’d let me sit on the drum throne and beat the crap outta them, and I knew right then that was my instrument of choice. My Dad bought me an old antiquated snare for $5 at a pawn shop in Tyler, and the guy threw in a pair of sticks to complete the deal. So, at age 9, I began learning how to play without any lessons from a qualified teacher, but I had a beginner’s instruction book that showed me how to hold the sticks, and I figured out how to read the drum charts, plus I taught myself the basic rudiments.

I was lucky enough to join the beginner’s band in the sixth grade, but due to my self-taught abilities, I was already three steps ahead of the other kids. My parents, especially my Mom, managed to let me play/practice 30 minutes a day, and I took advantage of her kind permission to make “racket” as she called it. The first time I played a full set of drums with other musicians was with this throwback local country singer who held dances north of Athens. His name was Cowboy Weaver, and he had this place called Sunset Ranch. He would charge something like $2 a person and his band was playing on a huge flat trailer behind a big Mack truck semi. Folks would come out, bring their coolers of adult beverages, Cokes for the kiddos, lawn chairs and set around and listen to his singing and his band playing. Anyway, my Dad knew some guy in the band, and he talked them into bringing me up on stage to play drums with the group.

I remember being nervous, and they played something simple. After that one song (I cannot even recall what it was), I felt very proud of myself, and that one moment was the major impetus to continue my chose. vocation. Then, The Beatles hit the USA in 1964, leading the British Invasion, and that sealed the deal..lock, stock, barrel, Model T Ford and every chicken on the farm. My family moved from east Texas to Lancaster in 1967, which was a major culture shock to my life as a teenager. Lancaster High had their own rock group, The Kolumn, with Don Tanner singing, John Nixon on lead guitar, Bill Thornhill on bass (I think) and Ted Wrenn on drums. The high school would hold sock hops after home football games, and The Kolumn played every time. They were pretty salty for a bunch of high school guys, and I knew them since Don and Ted were in the marching band with me.