Steve Woolston - E.S. Grit
Steve is a veteran of one of Maryland's most popular bands of the 1970's, E.S. Grit. Steve played Lead Guitar with ES Grit from 1969 to 1978, during which time he helped to record two critically acclaimed albums. Steve has shared a stage with the Doors, the Five Satins, Sha-na-na, the Marvelettes, Wolfman Jack, the Marshall Tucker Band, Three Dog Night, Herman's Hermits, the Grass Roots, and other national acts. After es Grit, Steve then joined up with a band called Cruisin' Gold in the early 1980's after meeting Bruce Zinn at a recording session in 1982. Golden Touch was formed in 1984 after Cruisin' Gold quit the stage. Steve is a healthcare information technology consultant in his other life.
I was born and raised in Easton, Talbot County, Maryland. In those days, Easton was a small town of about 5,000 on the Eastern Shore of Maryland (the eastern side of Chesapeake Bay). It gathered little notice from outside. My mother often spoke of my childhood interest in music by recollecting her memories of me standing by my little record player, dressed in bib overalls, listening to “The Farmer in the Dell” repeatedly until she was sick of hearing it. I remember reading a teacher’s comment on my first grade report card in the Music section that said simply, “Likes this!” Most of my school grades in music were pretty good and reflected my interest. There wasn’t much exposure to currently popular music in my home. My parents probably didn’t have the spare cash to buy the latest hits.
We didn’t listen to the radio much that I recall, except for snowy mornings to see if school had been cancelled. My Dad liked Sousa marches, and marches in general. The local radio station’s early morning show had a segment called “The March Down to the Breakfast Table” where a different march was played each day. Dad enjoyed that. My Dad had played trumpet in some local bands in Crisfield, Maryland, where he grew up, before being drafted into the Army for WWII. He was in the noted 29th Division and landed in the second wave on DDay. Shortly after landing, a shell landed near enough to him to send him to the hospital. He never said much about his military experience, but rightfully he had little good to say about it. I think his interest in performing music was pretty well dashed by the experience and by beginning a family shortly after the end of the war.
29th Division (Steve’s father is not included in this photo).
The reason I mention this is he had two of his trumpets in the attic of our house. One trumpet’s case had the name “The Downbeats” stenciled on the side in white letters with a musical note in the logo. I often wondered who The Downbeats were, and he never said, but I think it was a dance band of his era. But, when I was about ten years old and had the opportunity to join the elementary school band, he and I would sit in my bedroom and play marches from my music book on those two trumpets. He allowed me to use his better trumpet, although I was a bit embarrassed because this trumpet was silver and the other kids had the gold rented trumpets. Even so, I enjoyed the opportunity to play and perform with the school band. What I didn’t like so much was practicing.
About that same time, a piano was brought into our house. It had been borrowed from one of my Mom’s cousins who didn’t play it any more. My older sister began taking piano lessons, and so did I, but the reading of music and getting two hands to do different things at the same time didn’t come easy, and I didn’t have the chutzpah to struggle through it. I was left handed, and fingering a melody on the piano with the right hand was not working. I did sit down at that piano many times and pick out melodies by ear, and thought to myself “Gee, this doesn’t require a book at all!” Being left-handed, I remember being in kindergarten, picking up the big pencil with my left hand, and the teacher putting it in my right hand. I also remember trying to write my letters from the right hand side of the page toward the left, which I learned was incorrect.
The left hand won out, but I have often thought I had dyslexia to some degree. I could read reasonably well, but the process was and still is laborious. I learned well in the classroom and from homework, but getting the information from the book was not happening. When there was a particular subject I wanted to learn about, I would study it from a book (hopefully with a lot of pictures) until I satisfied my curiosity. But, reading for entertainment was rarely entertaining. I never heard of dyslexia until many years later. When I was growing up, these children were labeled slow learners, or just lazy. I was a “just lazy.” I was occasionally reprimanded with something like “You can learn if you want to, you’re just lazy!” So, I’ve been a lifetime lazy. After fourth grade, the elementary school band program fizzled, and the trumpet was put under the bed.
As I grew into middle school (which was in the same building as the high school), a new band director had come to town, who was young and charismatic, and breathed new life into the band program. I thought I would get out the trumpet and give it a try. The band marched in parades and played at football games, which seemed like fun things to do. The band director told me, “I’ve got too many trumpet players already, but I could use an alto horn player.” An alto horn (or peck horn) player has pretty much the most boring job in a band. It is pitched lower than a trumpet, and never gets to play a melody. When quizzed by friends and relatives as to what an alto horn was, I characterized it by saying “I play the ‘pah’ of the oom-pah-pah” with a grimace. So, needless to say, this instrument never saw much practice either. I was chided by other school band members, and seldom got A’s in band, but I continued with it anyway.
Steve’s Easton High School basketball program circa: 1964-65.
I suppose the band director was more desperate for an alto horn player than I thought. Eventually I was switched to the French horn, which probably should be called a West Virginia horn, because it looks like it should be connected to a still. The French horn was as about much fun as the alto horn, and harder to play. In college, I joined the University of Maryland marching band as an alto horn player for one football season. This was the most grueling musical experience I ever had, but I did learn how to perform with stamina and energy from it. Students with any kind of musical training (guys only) were recruited to the marching band with the lure of “the away weekend trip.” The trip to Syracuse was about the least fun thing I can remember. At least you get anesthesia with a root canal. I tried the band for a second season, but soon realized it wasn’t for me, and dropped out after the first football game. The horn was put down forever. It was kind of cool to stand in the middle of all that sound, though, even if it did sound like a train wreck from a distance.
Going back to my elementary and middle school years, the only exposure I got to Top 40 music was when I was out of school and sick at home for a few days to listen to the radio. The folk/hootenanny fad caught my sister’s attention, but I had no interest in it. At about age 13, my Dad was a member of the Easton VFW post down the street, and I noticed on the events calendar there was a youth dance one Friday night. I asked if I could go, and did. There was only one other person, a girl, who came. I had never met her. She was from a different county, and I think her Dad was an active VFW member there. We sat and talked some. The music came from a jukebox via a stack of quarters provided by the VFW. She selected all the music, as I was unfamiliar with pop music. I can’t remember if we danced or not, but she repeatedly played songs by a group she called The Beatles. This was around 1963, or 1964 when The Beatles were first coming into the American music scene.
The Beatles circa: 1964.
I didn’t pay much attention to the music, but did take a mental note that this girl seemed quite taken with it, and I was slightly taken with her. I saw The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show, as did just about everyone else. I thought to myself, “Hey, I could do that.” Then, as rock music bands of the time began to proliferate on TV and radio, I became more drawn to listening to radio and became more familiar with current and earlier rock and pop music. The radio stations played a wider variety of music in those days, so I eventually got more in synch with the times. Pop music records were not allowed in our house, though. We had some Broadway show tunes, marches, and movie soundtrack albums and some hootenanny records around that held some appeal to my parents and sister, and I liked some of it, too.
My sister pleaded and pleaded for a Beatles record. My parents relented and we got “A Hard Day’s Night.” That was their current release. We wore it out. Following that time, I went to teen dances where live bands performed. Most of them came from Dover, Delaware. I went to many dances, having no intention of dancing. From watching these bands, I knew I wanted to play the guitar and be in a band. Some kids in my Scout troop had electric guitars and took lessons and played for Court of Honor events. I wanted to do it, too, but my parents blew me off. For one, they couldn’t afford to buy it for me, and two, they probably thought it was a passing fancy. I borrowed a guitar and a method book from a girlfriend of my sister who lived down the street. She had taken a few lessons during the hootenanny fad.
The Beatles on Ed Sullivan circa: 1964.
I sat down in my bedroom with the guitar and the book trying to figure out how to play the thing. The book showed how to hold the guitar with the left hand on the fingerboard and the right hand by the bridge. I assumed that this was how right-handers were to play the guitar. But I was left-handed. What was I supposed to do? I thought to myself “my hands don’t know the difference, so I’ll play like the book shows,” which was right-handed. Years later I found that left-handers who play the guitar right-handed have a bit of advantage by having more strength and dexterity in the fingering hand. I also had found out by then that left-handed guitars were harder to find, and were more expensive than right-handed guitars.
At age 14 my parents agreed to let me take guitar lessons. I had a Kay F-Hole guitar rented from the guitar teacher. The neck action was difficult, and I wore the skin off the ends of my fingers until I had thick calluses. I also found out that I could learn songs by ear, playing along with records, radio and TV. I never got much benefit from trying to read music from a page in a book and play it on the guitar. It all happened by ear for me. There is no left-to-right reading when learning and playing by ear. It’s all about hearing sounds and finding notes and chords on the guitar and placing the sounds in rhythm. I got pretty good on the guitar – when the next Scout Court of Honor was held I wanted to play with the other guys, but my mother forbade me saying “You’re way past those guys now. Don’t go there to embarrass them.” I was a little disappointed not to play, but I appreciated my Mom’s notice of my improvement.
Steve is not pictured in this particular photograph.
I dreamed of having one of the sleek Fender electric guitars the Dover bands had. I looked at them again and again in the local music store, but well beyond my means. I worked for my Dad one summer with the intention of saving enough money to buy one. I had learned from guys in the bands from Dover that Philadelphia was where they went to buy instruments. That was where I wanted to go. Eventually, my Dad had to go to Philadelphia with a colleague on a business trip, and I was allowed to go along. We went to the music store, and I picked out a white Fender Mustang with a red pick guard much like the one Kurt Cobain later popularized. My Dad loaned me the additional money I needed to buy it. I sat in the back of the car playing it all the way home. I had no amplifier, but I didn’t care. I was in heaven.
Eventually I earned enough money to buy an amplifier. I was ready to be in a band. In those days many guys in school had some interest in music. The stars were our heroes. I had a few friends who were interested in having a band. One of them lived a little way out of town. His Mom was a music teacher and let us go to their house and practice on Friday nights. This first attempt at a band eventually netted us a gig at a girl friend’s birthday party, then at a local yacht club for a teen dance. The first band (whatever its name was) didn’t hold together for long, but re-grouped with some more serious guys forming the band we called “The Velours.” My Mom and sister thought that might be a good name because we could wear velour shirts that were popular at the time. We never did get or wear the shirts, because they were too hot, but the name of the band stuck, good or bad. I played through my remaining high school years with The Velours.
The legend.
Playing music in a band gave me something nothing else in life had. I found that I could excel at something that brought me the admiration and respect of others. I had been only a marginal athlete. I had inherited my mother’s flat feet and I was assigned to the slow positions on teams – first base, left tackle. With a guitar around my neck I was the quarterback. A former football coach commented to my Dad when seeing me play guitar in a band for the first time “I didn’t think Stevie had that much gumption.” The gumption was there, I just needed a way to tap into it. I played with a vengeance. I found that as I played, I could open the windows of my soul and let my feelings flow through my hands to the guitar. If listeners could sense that happening, that was great, but I needed it for my own self-expression. It’s hard to describe how therapeutic playing music can be, but for some people, it’s vital. Once graduated from high school, it was impossible to keep the band together. My first three years of college I had no band to play with. I tried to get a couple of bands together, but couldn’t find the mix of guys who had enough commonality of musical interest or enough discipline to get a repertoire together to get out of the basement and play gigs.
Around my junior year in high school, I learned of a place outside of Cambridge, Maryland, about 15 miles from Easton, that was a teen-age night club, and had a band that played there every weekend. It was called The Carousel. The singer in the Velours had a cousin who played in the band there, called The Gremlins. Despite my parents’ objections, I went with a guy with a questionable reputation and a fast car and a couple of friends to check it out. The place was hopping. I went there numerous times, never to dance, but to watch the band and hope for an opportunity to take their places on that stage, and a couple of times, we did. During my college years, I rarely if ever got back to the Carousel, but I heard that The Gremlins kept playing and later changed their name to E.S. Grit. E.S. Grit, I was told by one of its members, stood for Eastern Shore Dirt. In the summer of 1970, shortly before my senior year of college began, I went with a friend to an outdoor party at a home in Talbot County where a band called The VIP’s was playing.
Circa: 1968.
The Gremlins.
E.S. Grit: Dressed in their band suits circa: September 28,1969. Greg White, John Johnstone, Bill Handley, Joe Brocato.
They were a popular band of the day. At the party, I ran into Joe Brocato, who had been a guitar player in The Gremlins. I knew Joe through the association with the cousins in our two bands. We chatted and caught up on things for a while, and I asked if he still played. He said that his band had just broken up because their lead guitar player quit (Joe had since moved to the bass guitar). I told him I would be interested in playing if the rest of the guys wanted to get back together. We set up a rehearsal/audition for the next week. All went well, and I became the new guitarist for E.S. Grit.
Late 1970 into 1971 transition: The original E.S. Grit caught in a pensive moment! Left to right: John Johnstone, Greg White, Bill Handley, Joe Brocato.
E.S. Grit version 2 : Left to right: John Johnstone, Steve Woolston, Bill Handley, Joe Brocato.The stage shot would have to be late 1970 or Jan 1971. Greg played until fall of 1970 and Joe died 2-6-71. The poster would have to be from another time… Could be anytime from 1969 up... But the $1.50 indicates early.
All the band members of E.S. Grit were in college at the time, but we were able to have intensive weekend rehearsals getting enough songs together to start playing out. Bill Handley was the drummer, John Johnstone played rhythm guitar and organ, and Joe played bass. John and Joe were the principal singers. It was probably late September or early October when we had our first gig. One thing about this band that was different from others was the focus on group vocals. I wasn’t a strong lead singer, but I knew how to sing harmony from high school glee club. Also, care was taken to learn and perform songs as close to the originals as possible, with all the members fully abreast of the arrangements. I noticed this about professional acts I had seen in concert. I liked the fact that everyone in E.S. Grit was serious about doing things consistently. Soon, I became aware of E.S. Grit’s immense popularity in the Dorchester County area. Almost every weekend we were playing at some local dance, whether at the Armory, or the Carousel, the high schools, Gabriel’s Bourbon Barrel Lounge, or wherever.
There would always be a big crowd at each event. It was exciting to be part of what was happening. It wasn’t to last for long, however, as Joe died in a shooting accident one February day in 1971 when the temperature became suddenly mild and made the surface of the still-frozen ground very slippery. The event was tragic enough for his family, but it sent the band into a tailspin. Joe was the charismatic personality in the band, and its catalyst. He gave the band its swagger. I remember sitting around the table at Joe’s parents’ house with Bill and John feeling the band was done without Joe. Joe’s father, who we affectionately called ‘Papa Joe’, said to us “You’ve got to go on! You’ve got to go on!” He was so emphatic yet loving about it we determined to do it Bill and John knew a local guy who had been a drummer and singer in a band a few years earlier. Bill wanted to recruit him to be our drummer, and Bill would take up bass guitar. In February 1971, David Lewis joined E.S. Grit. We spent a lot of time re-organizing the band and developing what we felt would be a marketable repertoire.
E.S.Grit photo circa:1973.
We all wanted to be a great live band, and eventually get a recording contract. We never found our niche as far as original writing was concerned, though. I never felt I had anything significant to write about, although I did write some of the songs we recorded. John wrote some good songs, but a bit soft for our style of band. We made several trips to New York to A&R Studios, recording demos of our material, as well as some of the songs we covered in our live performances. In those days, people could take demos to record companies and have them auditioned. We had a few that expressed interest, but none ever resulted in our desired contract. Still, much was learned about professional music production, performance and recording through those efforts.
We continued to write and record original and cover songs and release product on our own labels in the local area. Our first release was Under My Thumb (Rolling Stones cover) backed with a song I wrote called Petty Insinuations. I wrote the song expressing youthful frustration. Unable to think of a title, David called it Petty Insinuations, so that became the title. Some of our songs got some notable local radio airplay, thanks to some of our DJ friends. We were taken with New York and A&R Recording and made several trips there – basically any time we had some money and a few tunes written. We produced an eight-track tape album of mostly cover songs we played live and simply called it E.S. Grit and sold them locally. A local artist friend sketched our likenesses for the label. The first 45 RPM release on our self-entitled label, Aerodome was a misspelling of aerodrome suggested by a friend of the band.
Our other releases were on our own BigLiz label. There is a local legend about the ghost of a slave called Biz Liz that supposedly haunts a local river and bridge at night. This bridge was near our center of operations, so we used it for its local flavor. John Johnstone had a Fender Stratocaster that had been reassembled from some junk parts. He asked a local artist to decorate it, and the artist painted an iguana on the guitar’s body. The lizard (iguana) became the Big Liz logo.
Our final endeavor was a self-produced album recorded and mixed at Birch Recording Studio in Secretary in 1977 which we sold at gigs. Eventually, around 1979, E.S Grit unceremoniously played its last gig for a band friend’s wedding reception. There were no words of finality spoken. Time had spoken. Mainstream music as we knew it in the days of AM radio had become segmented into narrower fields of interest. Hard rock, disco, heavy metal, punk, southern rock had all carved out their respective groups of fans. Country music was trying to move mainstream. Those genres held little interest for E.S. Grit. We were a straight-ahead, mainstream rock band. Available gigs had drifted toward the trendier music styles. We were approaching our 30’s. John had completed a college degree in music and became a music teacher at a local school and director of a church choir. Bill always had an interest and talent for art. The ‘do or die’ and ‘band above all’ attitudes we once held faded as we grew into more mature lifestyles. However one might gauge our successes or failures, E.S. Grit made a lasting mark in local music history.
John Johnstone would pass away a victim of cancer in 1991. Bill Handley was also stricken with cancer, but still survives. David Lewis passed away in 2013. In 1974, I attended the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, NY. The school offered a summer school program in recording techniques and professional audio. My interest had been piqued by my experiences at A&R Recording. I wanted to learn as much as I could about the subject, but there were few places that offered any education. Again, I found myself struggling with the reading, but many of the lectures were given by professional recording and electronic engineers, some with gold and platinum records to their credit. I wanted to put this learning to work. I became friends with Paul Birch who owned and operated a local recording studio. He invested a lot of money and effort in bringing the professional recording experience to Delmarva’s musicians.
I did a number of projects there from 1979 to 1982 as recording and mixing engineer, session musician and writer. One of these sessions was an associate of Paul’s who brought his band in to record a couple of songs for his wedding. They were called Cruisin’ Gold, a 50’s revival kind of band similar to Sha Na Na. We built a good rapport on that project, and some friendships were made that would prove to last a long time. Around 1982, Ocean City, Maryland, conducted a jingle-writing contest to promote itself. Thinking it might be fun to take a shot at it, I wrote a song called “Ocean City Fever” which was a Jan and Dean styled song about the OC experience. Paul allowed us to use his studio to produce the song. We brought in guys from Cruisin’ Gold and E.S. Grit for the band. Dave Lewis played drums and sang the lead vocal, Jack Hennen played bass, Bruce Zinn played piano, and I played guitar. We also included Kevin Short as a backup singer.
We called this group ‘The Beach Band.’ We recorded Ocean City Fever and decided to get some 45 rpm records pressed of it. We did a cover of Dion and the Belmonts’ “That’s My Desire” for the B side. We entered the record for the contest but we didn’t win. Soon thereafter, I was invited to join Cruisin’ Gold as their lead guitarist, which I did. The band played mostly in the Saint Mary’s county area, which was a grueling drive from the Eastern shore for weekend gigs. After a few months, I suggested we form a band from members of the Beach Band. Jack, Bruce, and Kevin were interested, and David Lewis accepted his invitation to join. I suggested the name Golden Touch as it was a wholesome sort of name and said something of the nature of our music. I got the name from a vegetable broker who called his company Golden Touch. In January 1984, Golden Touch band was born.
Mike’s Crab House circa: 1958.
We played our first gig at Mike’s Crab House near Annapolis on one bitterly cold Friday night in January 1984. The next night we played at the former Canton Inn in Seaford, Delaware. It took some time to get exposure in the Cambridge area where many people knew David and me from E.S. Grit. Eventually we gained popularity among our former followers who were now 30- and 40-somethings. We played some of the same material from our E.S. Grit days, but also many songs from Cruisin’ Gold’s 50s repertoire, which we continue to play today. After about 6 months with Golden Touch, Jack found himself too busy with his work to stay in the band. The bass was passed on to Denny Walter, who was one of the lead guitarists in Cruisin’ Gold. Golden Touch continued until 1989, when Kevin dropped out of the band to start his very successful Mid South Audio business in Georgetown, Delaware. Kevin was our sound man and a fine singer and guitar player. He was not replaced, however. I started doing our sound mixing from the stage. Denny moved to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and was finding travel increasingly difficult. We invited Eddie Collison of Cambridge, who had played many years with the local Drawbridge band to fill in on a few occasions. Eventually Eddie replaced Denny.
Golden Touch On Stage at the 60's Rock and Roll Revival Music Festival in Cambridge, MD August 06 of 2005.
In 1998, Dave Lewis resigned from the band. He was replaced by Mark Gootee of Cambridge, who had also played with Drawbridge. Golden Touch Band has continued to the present day. In 2009, we celebrated 25 years as a band. We had a reunion dance in Cambridge, and all the former members of the band came to play and sing. Many Golden Touch, E.S. Grit and Drawbridge fans and family members were present for this wonderful event. Some friends who attended have since passed away, and I’m glad we had one last opportunity to celebrate the times of our lives. As I reflect on the past 50 years playing music in the Dorchester County area, I have deep sense of thanks and appreciation for all those who supported E.S. Grit and Golden Touch during that span of years. Although I grew up in Easton, I knew I had found a home in Dorchester County as I began to make friends here. Perhaps my youthful dreams of being a big musical success were never realized on national or worldwide scale, but I have always experienced a sense of success and belonging here. This is where I raised my family. I remember being about 25 years old and coming to the realization that I was born on the Eastern Shore for a reason, and this was to be my home. I would do whatever I had to do to be among my family and friends. I never gave any serious consideration to moving elsewhere to live or pursue a professional music career. This place has it all for me. I’m grateful I could be part of it and hope my efforts in music have helped brighten the lives of people who have attended and enjoyed our performances.
Dakota Brown
