Leigh Asks Fans to Help Crack Burglary Case
CAPTION: Leigh’s fans and friends keep watch for her musical memorabilia and stage costumes (such as this handmade dress, one of Leigh’s personal favorites) to turn up on eBay.
TO CATCH A THIEF
Texas blues legend Keri Leigh’s friends, family, fans, and Douglas Fairbanks Museum supporters have organized an online community watch effort to catch the crooks who robbed her private residence in December 2010.
The thieves got away with an estimated $60,000 worth of loot, including artifacts from the museum’s collections and the official audio/video archive for Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils, documenting the band’s 20-plus year history.
They scour web auction and classified sites such as Craigslist looking out for her stage clothing, guitars, master tapes, personal effects, and museum artifacts to emerge.
Many of Leigh’s stolen stage costumes and musical instruments can be seen in the photo galleries of her band’s Official MySpace and in her music videos on YouTube.
Leigh is encouraging her friends and supporters to familiarize themselves with the stolen items through photos and video so that they will be able to identify the stolen property when it turns up for sale, which she believes it inevitably will..
“After so many months have passed without any arrests or anyone coming forward to claim the reward money, I believe our best hope of ever getting the items returned is through community action,” Leigh says. “Lots of eyes watching.”
“These things nearly always wind up on eBay sooner or later.” Leigh says. “Art thieves routinely approach museums, galleries and memorabilia dealers trying to sell stolen goods. With the eyes of the public wide open, the thieves are far less likely to succeed. Most art thieves are caught by one person who recognizes a piece of cultural property offered for sale as stolen and reports back to the rightful owner.”
Perhaps the only consolation for Leigh is that most of the items stolen from her home are unique and one-of-a-kind, and thus easily identifiable. “For the most part, these are not the typical sorts of items that can be sold off to pawn shops, such as TVs, computers, stereo equipment and electronics.” She explained. “It would take a very sophisticated fence operation that deals in stolen art and cultural property to handle them on the black market. I rather doubt these thieves are that clever or that connected.”
An alert and vigilant public will play a crucial role in recovering both Leigh’s own musical treasures and the Fairbanks Museum artifacts taken from her home.”Working together, I hope and pray that we can catch the thieves and get these rare items returned to the museum, so that the public may continue to have access to them for hundreds of years to come.” Leigh said in a recent interview about the museum robbery.
“This collection was intended to survive well past my earthly lifetime. I built it for the education, enjoyment and cultural enrichment of future generations. To think that all that time, effort and expense was in vain absolutely breaks my heart.”
CAPTION: Leigh encourages her fans to report any attempted sales of the band’s stolen property (such as this handmade custom lace cape presented as a gift to Keri in 1988) to their local police, the FBI, or the band’s management immediately.
BE OUR EYES AND EARS
Anyone with information about the burglary or suspected stolen property being offered for sale is encouraged to contact their local police, the FBI, or the band’s management right away.
Tips leading to an arrest and/or return of Leigh’s property may also qualify for a cash reward.
For more information and ongoing updates on this story, please see the official announcement on Keri Leigh’s blog.
Many of Leigh’s stolen stage costumes can be seen in the video below. Please take a few moments to watch it.
Stevie Ray Vaughan: The Made In Texas Radio Hour
Stevie Ray Vaughan: The Made In Texas Radio Hour
Stevie Ray Vaughan’s friend and biographer Keri Leigh gives an in-depth interview about SRV on “The Made in Texas Radio Hour,” a syndicated FM radio program, on the anniversary of Stevie’s passing.
This special video production features photos from Leigh’s SRV biography, “Stevie Ray: Soul To Soul” (National Book Network), as well as rare unpublished photos of Vaughan from the author’s personal archives.
Many of these can also be viewed by the public at the Center for American History on the University of Texas’ Austin campus, where Leigh donated her research papers for the book and a large portion of her SRV collection.
This 90-minute radio show is divided into 5 parts, all of which can be viewed below:
Rare Silent Film Artifacts Stolen From Keri Leigh’s Home
CAPTION: Artifacts stolen from the museum’s archives can be seen in “Douglas Fairbanks: The Great Swashbuckler,” a 2005 documentary. Museum co-founder and curator Keri Leigh is interviewed in the film.
DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS MUSEUM ROBBED
More than $10k in early film memorabilia stolen
It’s been “a hell of a year” for famed Blue Devils vocalist and Douglas Fairbanks Museum curator Keri Leigh. Last week, she learned that the master tapes of all of her band’s albums were lost in a massive tornado that destroyed the vaults of her record company, Malaco Records. The famed record label’s 50-year history of classic blues, R&B, gospel and soul music was wiped out in mere seconds as the tornado tore through Jackson, Mississippi on April 15th, decimating the company’s headquarters and recording studio. (Although the studio compound was completely leveled, no one was seriously injured.)
Just a few months before, tragedy had struck the Texas blues legend when her private residence was looted by thieves. She lost the band’s 20-year archive of original master tapes, demos, live recordings, audio and video, musical instruments, memorabilia, and stage costumes. The burglary took place while Leigh was out of town over the holidays.
Since retiring the Blue Devils from the road in 2001, Leigh has spent the past several years as curator of the Douglas Fairbanks Museum. Leigh co-founded the small private museum in 1998 and for many years housed the collections inside her family residence. A lifelong silent film enthusiast, Leigh always enjoyed sharing her rare film memorabilia collection with other Fairbanks fans, filmmakers, researchers, students, and historians, welcoming visitors from all around the globe to her home near Austin.
Museum artifacts totaling more than $10,000 USD were stolen during the burglary. Fortunately much of the museum’s collection was stored safely away from Leigh’s home at the time. “We were damned lucky we didn’t lose more than we did, but we did lose a lot. The entire photo archive and video library were taken, along with most of our periodicals library.”
“We never really worried too terribly much about break-ins or petty theft because as a private museum, we’re not readily accessible to the general public. Our tours are by appointment only. We don’t have a location that people can just walk into off the street. ” Leigh explains. “So we avoided a lot of would-be thieves casing the place for valuables with that added layer of security.”
While the museum’s policy limits admittance and access to the collections only to those with a bona fide research or scholarly need, curator Leigh says “actually, we’ve never denied admittance to anyone over the years,” a decision she does not regret even in light of the burglary. “The whole point is to share the collections with people.”
Leigh is asking for the public’s assistance in identifying and tracking down the museum’s stolen property, hoping for its safe return. “We need you to help be our eyes and ears right now to catch these thieves,” she said.
Anyone with information about the burglary is encouraged to contact their local police, the FBI, or the museum immediately. Tips leading to arrests and/or return of museum property may qualify for a cash reward.
For more detailed information about the Douglas Fairbanks Museum’s burglary and a photo gallery of museum property taken, see the news release here.
Malaco Records Destroyed By Tornado
Malaco Records Destroyed By Tornado
Austin musician Keri Leigh is singing the blues for an entirely different reason these days. The award-winning vocalist and songwriter is still in shock from being dealt a double tragedy in recent months.
First came a home burglary in December 2010 in which the robbers got away with everything she owned, including both of her cars, musical equipment, stage clothing, master tapes, demos, rare live recordings, a collection of early 20th century film memorabilia, and the Blue Devils’ 20-year video and audio archives.
Then came the tornado. Just a few months later on April 15, 2011, Leigh learned that the master tapes to all three of her studio albums for Malaco Records had been lost when an F4 tornado wiped Malaco’s headquarters off the face of the earth.
The Jackson, Mississippi tornado outbreak of April 15th claimed 17 lives around the Jackson area, as well as thousands of legendary blues recordings contained in the famed record label’s vault.
Label co-founder Wolf Stephenson and about 15 employees were inside the buildings when the storm hit. The buildings are located on Northside Drive in Jackson, where officials say most of the city’s damaged was felt. No serious injuries were reported at Malaco headquarters.
Sadly, both the recording studio and the room that housed the master tapes from decades of great musicians like ZZ Hill, Little Milton, Denise LaSalle, Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils and Bobby Blue Bland were reduced to rubble. Record keeping and royalty offices looked like they had been struck by a wrecking ball.
Upon learning of the tornado, Keri Leigh was “utterly devastated,” according to a press release on the artist’s Official MySpace. “Having lost the entire Blue Devils tape archive in a home burglary a few months ago, I know just how they must feel now. Knowing all those original masters — the only ones in existence anywhere, most likely — are gone forever just makes you cry, y’know?”
To compound the tragedy for Leigh, her own masters were likely destroyed or irreparably damaged by the Jackson tornado. “Even after my house was robbed and my backup copies stolen, I took some comfort in knowing that Malaco had the original masters safely stored in their vault, so at least those hadn’t been lost. Now they are gone forever, too? It’s just unbelievable.”
Malaco released three studio albums by Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils: “Arrival,” recorded at the legendary Muscle Shoals studios in 1995, “No Beginner” (1993), and “Blue Devil Blues” (1991). The previous Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils catalog on the Austin-based Amazing Records label was later re-issued by Malaco after Amazing went bankrupt in 1994.
UPDATE: The Malaco Records compound could not be saved and was demolished on April 17, 2011. More information and news reports on the Malaco tornado can be found here.
Blues Singer Keri Leigh Victim of Home Robbery
CAPTION: Rare handmade custom stage clothing (such as this beaded jacket worn on the “Arrival” album cover) was stolen from Leigh’s home during the holiday 2010 burglary. In addition, Leigh lost musical instruments, equipment, artifacts, and an invaluable archive of music and film.
AN UNHAPPY NEW YEAR FOR BLUES SINGER KERI LEIGH
In the early morning hours of December 30th, Austin blues veteran Keri Leigh was awakened in her hotel room many miles away from home by a phone call from her neighbors. They had heard a loud commotion next door and awoke just in time to witness burglars fleeing the scene with a truckload of Leigh’s belongings.
When a panicked Leigh returned home, she discovered that the front door lock had been cracked. Her home surveillance cameras captured nothing; electrical lines to the house were cut before the looters entered. Inside, she found a ransacked mess of her personal possessions strewn about the floor; all drawers, closets, and cabinets were picked through by the criminals. “Everything of value in the home was taken,” Leigh said in a bulletin on the Official MySpace for Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils.
Investigators say the crime looked like a professional job. All indications point to the burglary having been planned well in advance and that a group of persons were involved. “It seems they had been watching my home — or had someone watching me — so that they were aware when I was away from the house.” Leigh said. “They made sure not to approach the residence when anyone was home, and that my security cameras would be effectively out of order.”
Leigh (an award-winning Malaco Records recording artist, author, arts historian, and radio personality) lost an invaluable collection of rare tapes, photographs, concert posters and music memorabilia documenting her 25 year music career in the heist.
Leigh has previously authored biographies of Douglas Fairbanks and blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan, her late friend and musical mentor. Nearly 100 rare video and audio tapes of Vaughan — including scores of recorded interviews Leigh conducted with him between 1986-1990 — were also stolen.
Items taken from the home included Leigh’s original onstage costumes; many were handmade custom designs given to her by fans and friends through the years. She also lost master tapes for her band’s studio albums, a treasured 1940s Stella acoustic guitar, as well as her collection of her band’s live recordings, radio interviews and broadcasts, demo tapes, notes, song lyrics, notes, research and chapters for a book she was writing at the time of the break-in. While the actual cash or replacement value for these items exceeds $20,000, Leigh says their practical and sentimental value is incalculable: “You just can’t put a price tag on things like that.”
“”They took the deepest part of me – my music.” She says. “Songs I wrote, recorded, mixed and produced. They took my demo tapes and a 20-year archive of recorded performances of the band in concert, in the studio and on the radio. That’s a lifetime of work – my whole heart and soul – was in there. And they took it all. I could write an album’s worth of blues songs about how I feel right now, but don’t even have a guitar left to write them on.”
Hundreds of CDs, DVDs, 45 and 78 rpm records were stolen from Leigh’s sizable music collection. Designer clothing items were also pilfered; medicines and nutritional supplements nicked from her kitchen pantry. (“Seriously — what kind of burglars steal your vitamins?” Leigh mused.) The peckish prowlers also helped themselves to food items in her pantry. To make matters worse for Leigh personally, the burglars found her spare sets of keys and copped her two cars parked in the driveway.
Until the stolen property is recovered and returned, Leigh is without even the basic necessities of daily life. “They totally cleaned me out,” she says. “I have no car, no clothes, not even a winter coat — and it’s bitterly cold in Texas this winter. If it weren’t for the efforts of neighbors, family and friends, I wouldn’t even have food to eat right now.
“About the only thing they didn’t take were my books,” Leigh sighed. “I guess they weren’t very literary burglars.”
So far, no arrests have been made in the case.
Official MySpace and Twitter
Keri Leigh and the Blue Devils
Official MySpace for Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils:
http://MySpace.com/TheLongLeggedPony
Official Twitter:
http://Twitter.com/KeriLeighBand
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*New* Official Keri Leigh and the Blue Devils YouTube Channel
*NEW*
Official You Tube Channel for:
Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils
Hard to believe, but 2010 marks the band’s 20th anniversary. Wow!
To celebrate the occasion, we’re launching the Official You Tube Channel for Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils and hope you’ll enjoy it.
Over the next few weeks and months, we’ll be digitizing and adding lots of rare videos from Keri Leigh’s personal archives, spanning her long and distinguished career in music. Some of this material has never been seen or aired on TV before, including interviews, acoustic “unplugged” performances, music videos and much more.
While Keri does not maintain the You Tube channel, she has given it her blessing and has very kindly shared her “private stash” with us so that we can digitize these old analog tapes and share them with her fans all over the world.
She and the Blue Devils no longer tour, so this is the only place where you can witness the amazing energy of their live shows. It’s the next best thing to a front row seat.
These classic performances capture Keri at her funky, fiery, soulful best; from her early years playing small clubs like Antone’s, Steamboat and the Continental Club in Austin to national blues festival stages and tours with the likes of Ringo Starr, Little Feat, Buddy Guy, Koko Taylor, and many of her musical heroes.
Subscribe” to the Official You Tube Channel for Keri Leigh & the Blue Devils, leave comments, rate the videos, add to your favorites and share with friends. After so many years in the vaults, Keri wants to share these vintage treasures with you on the occasion of the Blue Devils’ 20th Anniversary.
As Keri likes to say, we “Got Blues If You Want It!” Hope you dig the new channel and check back often – new videos are being digitized and added as we speak.
Here’s the first installment: a rare unplugged live performance of “Here’s Your Mop, Mr. Johnson,” nominated by the Blues Foundation for the prestigious W.C. Handy Award for “Song of the Year.” (Keri was also nominated for “Best Contemporary Female Blues Vocalist” at the 1996 Handy Awards.)
Stevie Ray Vaughan: Life Without You
Stevie Ray Vaughan: Life Without You
STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN
LIFE WITHOUT YOU
Author, “Stevie Ray: Soul To Soul”
20 years ago tonight, my late friend Stevie Ray Vaughan played his last concert at the Alpine Valley Music Theatre in East Troy, Wisconsin. On that muggy, foggy summer night Stevie had shared the stage with Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, Robert Cray, and his brother Jimmie Vaughan.
Stevie had been incredibly excited about that show for months beforehand; every time we talked on the phone that summer (which was often, as we were conducting interviews for what would eventually become his autobiography), he always mentioned how much he was looking forward to doing that upcoming series of concerts with his heroes on the last weekend in August.
It was, by all accounts, perhaps the happiest night of his life. Many people who witnessed the concert (especially the Saturday night show) say it was the best show he’d ever played. I’ve heard the bootleg tape and would honestly have to agree. It’s certainly in my top five favorite SRV performances, very near the top. I saw him play live several times and poured through countless video and audiotapes researching his book – but no doubt, there was something special - almost otherworldly – about his last concert that night at Alpine Valley.
If Stevie could have written the final chapter to his own life story, that probably would have been it: checking out after playing the biggest show of his career with the blues musicians he admired most. And of course, doin’ it “family style” with his big brother Jimmie by his side.
GONE HOME
The story of Stevie’s last stand has now become the stuff of legend. I even devoted an entire chapter of Soul to Soul, to detailing the final hours of his life. (You can hear an excerpt from the audiobook version of that chapter below.)
Stevie had originally planned to travel back to Chicago on a van with Double Trouble. But the only road in and out of the theatre was a 2-lane blacktop that was jam-packed with cars leaving the concert. The previous night’s drive back had been a nightmare, taking hours to travel 90 miles. Although he was riding on quite an adrenaline high after getting to jam with some of the world’s greatest musicians, Stevie actually wasn’t feeling well physically that night. He’d been nursing a very sore throat all night and was exhausted, having not gotten much sleep the night before.
He was eager to return to Chicago so he could call it a night early; this was the last night of a long tour and he would be flying back to Dallas the next morning, looking forward to spending a couple of lazy weeks at home. So when the opportunity came up for Stevie to take a helicopter out instead of the van, he jumped at the chance.
By that time, it was nearly 1 a.m. and a heavy blanket of fog had rolled in around the Alpine Valley Ski Resort – not a good night to be flying around mountains. Shortly after takeoff, the pilot crashed into a ski hill behind the venue, killing all aboard. Also lost in the crash were three members of Eric Clapton’s entourage, including his tour manager.
(Diagram of the crash site; point of impact is circled.)
(Photo of the crash site. The stage would be located behind where the photographer is standing – point of impact is on the left side of ski hill near the top.)
COULDN’T STAND THE WEATHER
“Five killed in helicopter crash following a rock concert at Alpine Valley, Wisconsin. A famous musician is said to be among the victims. Identities of the dead have not yet been released pending notification of family members.”
I froze in my tracks. Whoah, wait a minute. That was the big concert Stevie’s been raving about for three months now. It was going to be the crowning achievement of his entire career – how could it have gone so wrong? What happened? Was he okay?
Immediately, rumors began flying: first the word was that Clapton had been killed. Then it was Robert Cray. Others whispered Jimmie Vaughan. Nobody knew for sure, but there was plenty of wild speculation going on. Austin held it’s collective breath, knowing that two of our favorite sons had played that big show the night before. While we didn’t want it to be any of the above names who had perished, we just hoped and prayed it just wasn’t one of the Vaughan boys. Anyone but them, we thought.
(Clapton and Stevie backstage at Alpine Valley the previous night, Aug. 25)
THE SKY IS CRYING
The next few hours were an excruciating wait. It seemed to take forever for the news to confirm who exactly had been killed in the crash. Finally around 10:30 a.m., I heard my friend Peggy Zarse (the midday DJ on KLBJ-FM) deliver the news through her choked tears that the victim was in fact Stevie Ray Vaughan.
I don’t remember much after that: friends later told me that when I heard the announcement I leaned back against the wall for support, my knees gave out, I slowly slid down the wall and hit the floor. I always say that I honestly don’t know how the hell I got home alive that day – I was crying so hard driving down the road (with KLBJ blasting his music nonstop) that the highway was just one big blur. For the rest of the afternoon I just sat there, staring into nothingness, unable to speak. There were no words. All I could do was cry, as the old Etta James song goes. And cry I did. All damn day. Like a baby.
Although I attended the candlelight vigil at Austin’s Zilker Park that night, the mood of the crowd just didn’t fit with the way I was feeling. It was too crowded; too loud – like being at a rock concert – not what I had in mind. I ended up over at Antone’s, Stevie’s favorite club, where it seemed like every musician who ever knew SRV (in this town, that’s a lot) was packed onto the stage.
I will never forget W.C. Clark’s soul-stirring version of “Take Me to the River” that night with Lou Ann Barton and an all-star revue – and recall thinking to myself at that moment, “something’s missing from this picture. Stevie should be here.” And I knew if he had been in town, of course, he would be. I kept waiting to hear his signature guitar licks filling in, like they always had. It was simply impossible to accept the fact that he wouldn’t be joining in these Antone’s jam sessions anymore with his old friends.
It was even harder to adjust myself gradually to the fact that I would no longer be getting those out-of-the-blue phone calls from truck stops and pay phones along the road. (In the days before cell phones, Stevie had to do phone interviews for his book from hotels and rest stops along the road – wherever and whenever he could find a phone!)
Stevie was seemingly always doing five things at once – a master of what we call “multi-tasking” nowadays. While doing an interview with me by phone, he was also at the same time fielding questions from his band and crew, stopping frequently to figure out some problem or tell them he’d be ready in a few minutes; or else he was talking with a mouthful of food as he hurriedly tried to slam a meal down.
In his calls from outdoor phone booths (remember those things?), the sound of semi trucks flying down the highway and horns honking are clearly audible on the tape; the sound of those diesel engines often completely drowning out his voice. Some of these tapes are simply hilarious; you’ll hear him yelling his answers over the truck noise or repeating “can you hear me? Hello? Are you still there?” If he was calling from a hotel room, I could hear him constantly noodling on the guitar while we talked; he’d punctuate his speech with guitar licks, bending notes for emphasis like B.B. King might tell a story – usually cracking himself up in the process. Stevie called it “testifyin’”.
Since there was no way to predict when he’d have a little time to spare, we rarely scheduled anything. I would simply drop whatever I was doing when the phone rang. If he had 15 minutes to talk, I’d flip on the tape recorder and pick up my questions on the notepad I kept sitting by the phone. The interviews were anything but formal – I just let the recorder capture him talking about whatever was on his mind that day. While it wasn’t the most preferable way to do interviews for a book, it really was the only way when your subject was on the road constantly.
From the time we started collaborating on the book project three months before, Stevie had been on tour. Hardly a day off. I often teased him about being “the hardest working man in show business.” But I really wasn’t kidding. He maintained a frantic touring schedule that tired me out just trying to keep up with his daily itinerary and what city he’d be in on any given day. Sometimes, I’m not even really sure if he knew where he was when he’d call. I’d always ask him: “so where are you today?” And his reply was usually, “um, I don’t know exactly…wait a minute…” then he’d either step outside to look at a road sign or ask somebody, “hey, what’s the name of this town?”
The last interview we conducted for the book project took place around Aug. 18-20 (the original tape is confusingly dated, so the exact day and time is unknown). He was on his way to Hawaii for a week-long vacation, then he planned to finish up the last week of the tour with a few shows before Alpine Valley. After that, he’d finally get a couple of weeks off before starting a European tour in September. We planned to resume the book interviews upon his return to Dallas, and had hoped to get a lot done over his two week break. Just a few more interviews and we’d have enough material for the book. I could start writing while he was away in Europe and would start faxing him first drafts of chapters for review.
We were almost there – we just needed a little more time. Yet, neither of us ever felt a need to rush the project along; we thought we had all the time in the world.
After his sudden death, I didn’t know what to do with the book project we’d started together. After gathering so many hours of tape (and some really wonderful, candid material), the thought of letting all that mutual effort go to waste was disheartening. But I couldn’t bring myself to actually listen to the tapes. Just hearing his voice in those first few months would break me down and I’d end up in tears again. It was too painful; the memories were still too recent, too fresh.
So the tapes and notes I’d amassed went into boxes and sat in my closet for six months while I tried to come to grips with the loss of a friend. During that time, I got a lot of encouragement from people who knew of the autobiography we’d been working on together. Stevie’s fans began writing me letters asking when the book would be coming out. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I’d given up on it.
Then one day it just hit me like a thunderbolt: I couldn’t give up on this book. It was, after all, the last promise we’d made to each other. For whatever reason, out of all the journalists he could have picked to write his life story, Stevie had chosen me – a 21 year-old journalist and aspiring musician with absolutely zero experience at writing books! He’d put his absolute trust in me and confided in me. He told me personal stories and thoughts he said he had never spoken of publicly before (this was later confirmed by sifting through nearly every published interview he gave).
This incredibly busy man had taken the time out of his hectic life and insane touring schedule to call me from pay phones along the road and grant me some of his time so that we could keep the interviews moving forward. After all he had done for me, and as much as he wanted this book to become a reality, what kind of friend would I be if I let him down? How could I not finish it now?
PRIDE AND JOY
In truth, I owed Stevie a lot more than just a book: I felt I owed the man my life. He was the person who had inspired me to give up drugs and alcohol in 1987 and had given me unflagging support in my struggle for sobriety. Just as he had given his time and effort so freely during the writing of the book, he had been equally generous and supportive over the previous two years whenever I needed a sober friend to lean on in those moments of temporary weakness. Anytime I thought I needed a drink.
While researching the book after his death, I would come to meet several other people whom Stevie had quietly helped. These were not rock stars or celebrities; they were just regular folks he had encountered along the way who needed a helping hand. He had done the same thing for them as he had for me – giving so much of himself – sponsoring them into AA and holding their hands as they went through the steps. I still have the 3 and 6 month chips he gave me when I met those important milestones in my own journey, and they are still two of my most prized possessions in the world.
I also felt that I owed Stevie my music. When we first met in 1986, I was a 17 year-old kid with big dreams of touring the world with my very own blues band someday. Not only was Stevie my musical hero, he became my mentor, too. I wanted to be that guy when I grew up! Over the four years that we knew each other, he would always make a point to ask how my little band was going; how were the recording sessions coming along? Had we finished our first album yet? Where were we playing? Who were we working with? And what the hell was I doing in a place like Oklahoma City? Why didn’t I move to Austin and meet some real blues cats?
At Stevie’s urging (perhaps nagging would be a better word for it, lol), my guitarist and then-fiancee’ Mark Lyon and I packed everything we could fit into a blue 1978 Ford Econoline van and moved to Austin. He made sure we connected with the good clubs in town: Antone’s, the Continental Club, Scholz’, the Black Cat and the late Liberty Lunch. We met Clifford Antone and stood in awe of him (even though he didn’t at first seem all that impressed by us!) 
By late summer, we had put the finishing touches on our debut album Blue Devil Blues at Lone Star Studios in Austin and were eagerly awaiting it’s return from the manufacturing plant. I couldn’t wait to see Stevie again when he got back from the road so I could personally place a copy of the album he’d inspired in his hands.
Sadly, that never came to pass. As fate would have it, Blue Devil Blues was released on September 1st, five days after Stevie’s death. His posthumous album with brother Jimmie - Family Style - was also released by Epic Records simultaneously. (Sad irony: I received my advance promo cassette copy of Family Style on Aug. 29th; it had just been mailed out a few days before he died.) His last album and my first were both released in the same week.
Looking back 20 years later on the man and the music that had such a profound impact on my young life, I can only say that time has not healed all wounds. When someone you love dies, everyone always says that time will lessen the pain; that eventually you’ll come to a point where you don’t miss them so much anymore. That’s simply not true, although sometimes I wish it were.
I still miss Stevie every single day. Every time I’ve opened my mouth to sing the blues over the past two decades, I’ve dedicated every song to him in my heart. He is always on my mind. I still quote him. I still love listening to his music and watching my cherished video collection of him in performance. I still get a thrill from every note the guy plays; he still gives me the same goosebumps I felt all those years ago.
Every time I listen to his voice on one of those interview tapes, time magically rewinds and we’re right back where we were 20 years ago. It’s like he never left – and I guess you could say that when you keep someone’s memory alive in your soul, they are with you always. Just as Stevie always said: the only communication that really matters is not what is spoken…it’s what is given heart to heart and soul to soul.
Photo from Stevie’s final show at Alpine Valley, Aug. 26th 1990
One of my favorite SRV photos by W.A. Williams. This was featured prominently on the last page of “Soul To Soul.”
Stevie’s grave at Laurel Land Cemetery in his hometown of Oak Cliff (Dallas), TX.
The statue of Stevie overlooking Town Lake in Austin.
(Stevie Ray Vaughan/Doyle Bramhall/B. Logan)
Hello there, my old friend,
Not so long ago it was ’till the end
We played outside in the pouring rain,
on our way up the road we started over again
You’re livin’ a dream, oh you’re on top
My mind is achin’, Lord it won’t stop
That’s how it happens, livin’ life by the drop
Up and down that road in our worn out shoes,
Talkin’ ’bout good things and signin’ the blues
You went your way, I stayed behind
We both knew it was just a matter of time
You’re livin’ a dream, oh you’re on top
My mind is achin’, Lord it won’t stop
That’s how it happens, livin’ life by the drop
No wasted time, we’re alive today
Tearin’ up the past, there’s no easier way
Time’s been between us, a means to an end
God it’s good to be here walkin’ together my friend
You’re livin’ a dream
My mind stopped achin’
That’s how it happens, livin’ life by the drop
That’s how it happens, livin’ life by the drop
That’s how it happened livin’ life by the drop
Rave on, Stevie…Rave On.
Richie Hayward: Time Loves a Hero
Richie Hayward: Time Loves a Hero
Here lately, it seems I’ve had to say goodbyes to too many old friends. I say “old friends” – meaning they’re people I’ve known for many moons – but they were by no means old in years. And that’s the saddest part. They died too soon; too young; oftentimes without any warning, and no chance to say a proper goodbye.
So I’ll be saying a few words here on my blog for old friends Nick Travis (former bassist for the Blue Devils), Michael Been (singer/songwriter from The Call), Richie Hayward (drummer for Little Feat), and another dear old friend who has been gone for 20 years this week, but whose memory still lingers fondly in my heart – Stevie Ray Vaughan.
I wrote extensively about Nick Travis in my previous blog post, where I shared some fun stories and rare photographs of him back in his Blue Devil days. (Scroll down to read) This summer – particularly the month of August – has brought not only news of two more “old” friends leaving us, but also the 20th anniversary of Stevie’s flight with the angels – which I will talk about in my next post.
While I could be tempted to dwell upon the subject of death at a time like this, I’d rather think about LIFE, and celebrate their lives by talking about all the joy and inspiration they brought to mine…as well as the lives of so many, many others.
– Keri Leigh
Aug. 20, 2010
TIME LOVES A HERO
Although everyone (most of all, Richie himself) kept a positive attitude and good thoughts for his recovery, we knew it was gonna be one hell of an uphill battle. It certainly didn’t help that Richie, like so many self-employed professional musicians, didn’t have health insurance. The costs of treatment and a liver transplant were going to be astronomical – an added weight he and his family didn’t need on their shoulders.
Richie had lived in Canada for two years prior to his diagnosis, but still didn’t qualify to recieve Canadian healthcare benefits due to his permanent residency status. Doctors told him to hang in there; a transplant could be delayed 10 months while he waited to get Canadian health insurance. In the meantime, musicians from all over the world rallied to raise money for his mounting medical bills through numerous benefit concerts.
In a cruel irony, it was almost exactly 10 months later that Richie died – not from the cancer directly, but from a case of pneumonia. It became fatal because his lungs had been previously damaged by untreated adult respiratory fibrosis. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
I’d known Richie for almost 20 years, from the time our debut album “Blue Devil Blues” was released and we were tapped for our first national tour opening for Little Feat. All of us in the Blue Devils Band had grown up idolizing the Featsters, and those two months we spent with them on the 1991 “Shake Me Up” tour were glory days indeed.
(Ad for our show at the Beacon Theatre in New York, NY on the 1991 tour)
ALL THAT YOU DREAM
From the opening night in Portland until the closing night in Boston, all the guys in Little Feat made us feel like family. They gave us nothing but encouragement and unqualified friendship, often making a point to listen to our set from the side of the stage and even showed us how to play the licks to some our favorite Feat songs. We repaid them with a hilariously awful attempted cover of ”Cold Cold Cold” during a soundcheck in Baltimore that had `em literally rolling in the aisles! (In pain, that is.)
During that tour, I spent the majority of my available time hanging around Richie and Sam Clayton, beatmasters extraordinaire and two of the nicest guys you could ever hope to meet. For some unknown reason Richie just sort of gravitated in my direction. We always seemed to find ourselves grabbing seats next to each other at the big dining table backstage at dinner time each night before the show. We genuniely enjoyed each others’ company and conversation.
Most of the time, we’d talk about the old blues and jazz records we both loved. He was one of the few cats I ever met who actually understood without being told why we named ourselves the Blue Devils – an homage’ to the original Blue Devils, an obscure 1920s/30s jazz band from Oklahoma and Kansas City that spawned the careers of musicians like Charlie Parker, Walter Page, Lester Young, Jimmy Rushing and Count Basie, among others. Richie asked me the first time I met him if our album title had anything to do with the 1929 recording of “Blue Devil Blues” by the Blue Devils. Right then and there I’d found a brother who spoke my language and knew the secret handshake.
I remember Richie excitedly telling me of how he learned to play drums as a kid by listening to Sonny Payne, Count Basie’s drummer…which led to another conversation about another Sonny Payne, the legendary radio DJ who hosted “King Biscuit Time” on KFFA-AM in Helena, Arkansas for 50+ years (this was the show that gave delta blues legends like Sonny Boy Williamson and Robert Nighthawk their start) – yep, Richie knew who he was, too. Impressive.
Then Richie mentioned offhand that he originally hailed from Clear Lake, Iowa – a place with little claim to fame other than being the sad spot where Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J.P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson played their last show on Feb. 3, 1959 at the Surf Ballroom. To me, however, as a Texan and lifelong Buddy Holly fanatic, that place was sacred ground. Which of course led to a whole `nuther long conversation about Buddy, the Surf, Clear Lake and the Holy Grail of Rock n’ Roll. Once we started talking, we never seemed to run out of stories to tell.
Richie and I also bonded over sobriety; both of us were recovering alcoholics and drug users who were still pretty new at the concept of playing a gig without completely polluting ourselves first. Temptations were strong; the tour was sponsored by Bud Light and thus there was always plenty of free beer around, ironically just as we were all freshly cleaned up and trying like hell to stay sober. We used to joke about how strange it was to see the backstage hospitality area littered with empty bottles of spring water instead of Jack Daniels — and instead of popping a handful of pills before the show, we’d sit there and down vitamin pill packs together to get our “fix.” 
(Poster for the 2000 Deadwood Jam in South Dakota)
Over the next decade, we continued to do shows with the Featsters and bumped into each other often at festivals along the road. All the guys in the band always seemed so genuinely glad to see us, made a point to ask how all the Blue Devils’ families were doing, even remembering the names of my band members’ wives. They’d ask about musicians that were no longer with the band, displaying genuine interest and concern about them and wanting to know what they were up to. We always found that quite remarkable – but then again, that’s just the kind of fellas they are. The Featsters are real peeps, and damn good peeps at that.
Billy, Paul, Fred, Kenny and Sam were the ones we’d spend the most time talking to at the gigs…then along would come Richie…bounding up and grasping me in a bear hug with those big powerful drummer arms of his. (He always hugged you like it had been 10 years since he’d last seen you – even if it was just the night before.) And off we’d go, huddled in some corner talking fast n’ furious about Jo Jones’ hi-hat technique or Buddy Rich’s kick drum substitution; anyone who is not a drummer would likely have been bored out of their minds listening to us, but hell we were having a great time!
So many memories, so many shows along the way: the acoustic tour in `92; playing in a torrential downpour at Austin’s Backyard in `94; crammed onto a tiny stage in the sweltering 105-degree heat outdoors at LaZona Rosa in `95; a splendid, cool fall evening under the stars at the Backyard in `98, and a rather unexpected, totally unplanned reunion at the 2000 Deadwood Jam in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
(Backstage at Deadwood with Richie and Fred Tackett)
FEEL THE GROOVE
And as fate would have it, the band that was scheduled to open for Little Feat on Saturday night had car trouble on the way to the show and found themselves stuck outside of Sturgis with the Deadwood blues again. Clearly they weren’t going to make it to the big gig in time. I was standing there next to Richie and Fred when John McEuen of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band (who also organizes the annual festival) walked up to tell us the last-minute dilemma. As John rubbed his forehead woefully and said, “who can I find to fill the bill when showtime is in two hours?” – Richie raised an eyebrow in my direction.
“Well, John,” Richie said, winding up for the pitch, “why don’t you just put Keri and her guys up there to open for us? We’ve done a lot of shows with them before. They’re all here and have nothing better to do but sit on their lazy asses anyway.” We all laughed. “Besides, it’d be fun! Let’s do it again,” Richie suggested. McEuen didn’t mind – hell, this was our third time at the Deadwood Jam and we were all family now anyway. The other Featsters nodded agreement, and my Blue Devil boys couldn’t have been happier to surrender their night off for such a good cause.
Even though it was entirely out of the blue and quite a frantic scuttle to clumsily jockey ourselves into position with so little notice, the set turned out to be much better than the one we’d done on Friday night. Looking back, it was actually one of the best shows The Blue Devils Band ever played. (There are some great photos available from the jam in our MySpace galleries. I’ve got video of that show around here somewhere, too…if I can ever get our old archives digitized, I’ll share it with ya’ll on YouTube.)
Even though we always worked extra hard to impress the Featsters, to see those guys standing off to the side of the stage digging our set that night was better than money. When I turned my back to the crowd for a minute to pick up a cowbell, I looked up and saw Richie standing there by the drum kit. He gave me two thumbs up and a big proud smile like “way to go kid!” I’ll never forget that moment…or that smile of his.
(Poster for the Tower Theatre show in Philadelphia)
Richie had a mischevious sense of humor - always causing trouble in a playful way – One of his most endearing qualities. On the last night of the `91 tour with them in Boston, someone had arranged it so that our dressing room was on the very top floor of the old Orpheum Theatre. (Thanks, guys!) Great view of old Beantown from the window, sure – but not so amusing to a woman having to ascend 7 flights of old rickety wooden stairs in high heels when she’s already out of breath from performing!
As I passed by the Feat’s dressing room on the 6th floor to catch my wind, I saw Richie peering around the corner at me, snickering like a little kid with a secret joke he couldn’t tell. I glanced at him like, “WTF are you lookin’ at?” and felt his eyes still on me as I trudged up that final flight of steps huffin’ and puffin’ when…
About two seconds later, the most foul smell hit my nostrils; something that surely must’ve come from deep in the bowels of hell itself. I covered my nose and bolted back down the steps like a flying squirrel yelling “OMFG, I think something DIED up there!”
Then I heard Richie’s laugh – more like a howl – he obviously couldn’t hold it in anymore. I walked right up to him and asked, “is there something funny about a dead THING in my dressing room?” He was breaking up so hard he couldn’t even speak through his choked laughter. Although he tried to tell me what the hell was so hysterical, he literally couldn’t get the words out before he’d fall apart laughing again.
By that time, my other band members had made the long march up those never-ending stairs and I now could hear their voices yelling, “Jesus!” and “Oh My Lord!” and “Who took a shit in here?”
As they also ran for cover away from the offending dressing room, the jig was up. All of the Featsters and their crew were now laughing out loud – at US!? My whole band just stood there shell-shocked for several long, excruciating seconds, wondering what in the world we’d done to either tickle or completely piss off our heroes. Not wanting to be cruel, that’s when Richie decided it was time to let us in on the joke. He took me aside and asked if he could speak to me alone for a minute.
He led me up the stairs to the dressing room from hell and tried to explain: ”Well you see, I heard Limburger cheese was your favorite so as a parting gift to you all on closing night, we wanted to stock your dressing room with lots of it!”
For a minute there, I thought he was actually serious. He’d somehow kept a straight face the whole time he was saying this. I told him I’d never tried Limburger cheese in my life and sure wasn’t likely to after having a good whiff of it. “That stuff smells like feet!” I said. “Hahahahaha…..EXACTLY!” he replied, pointing proudly to the logo on his Little Feat tour t-shirt.
He then walked right over to the deli tray, picked up a chunk of that foul fromage‘ and took a big bite! “Mmmmm, oh man, that’s good. Here’s have some…” he offered, holding a slice out to me as a peace offering. That’s when I lost it, too – just started laughing my fool head off, even if I did keep a thick towel over my nose to block out the gagworthy smell. Hell, I couldn’t be mad. After all, Richie and the guys had to put some thought and care into this little closing night prank.
“Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget us,” he winked.
Little chance of that.
Even after 19 years, that’s still my favorite memory of him – a memory as vivid as the smell of Limburger cheese (which I will also never forget!). Richie, if you can read this up there, isn’t it good to know that every time I remember you I think of Limburger cheese?
“The Dick & Dick Show”: Blue Devil drummer Dick Gagle and Richie
MISSIN’ YOU
Thinking back on those memories of Richie, the Featsters, and Blue Devils years makes me realize the passage of time and that we all ain’t getting any younger. When I first met Richie he was 45 and I was a spunky young’un of 22! With each subsequent meeting over the years, we’d look at each other and maybe notice a few more pounds; a few more gray hairs; a few more lines on the road map…until one day…I’m suddenly 40 and he’s 64, fighting for his life against liver cancer.
When I saw video of one of his final shows with Little Feat last year, he still had the same energy and power behind the kit as he’d had the first time I saw him play back in 1990. He was absolutely amazing and obviously determined to kick cancer’s ass like a bass drum pedal. Of course he already knew he was sick with a disease that would likely claim his career - eventually his life - but Richie faced it with true courage. He wrote this inspiring message to fans on Little Feat’s website in August 2009:
“My intent is to come back to the band, as soon as I am physically able. Your love and support will mean a lot to me, more than I can say. I love and will miss you all, and I will see you again on the proud highway.”
Richie wasn’t just putting on a brave face for the crowd, or trying to tell us not to worry about him. I believe – if I knew his mind at all – that he truly meant those words. But age, many years of the rock n’ roll lifestyle, and this devastating disease were apparently stronger in the long run. I often thought of Richie during his yearlong illness and pictured him in the hospital, off his rocker, acting crazy, playing pranks on the nurses and cracking everybody up! I wondered if perhaps he left a slice of Limburger cheese lying around to give the orderlies something to do while he innocently diddled away on a drum pad, stifling a laugh and pretending he didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary.
Despite all Richie’s good humor and intentions to get well, it seems this time his mind just made a promise that his body couldn’t fill.
Rest in peace, “old” friend. 
Enjoy Richie in this clip from St. Louis in 2003. Boogie they will!
OLD FOLKS BOOGIE
With the right medication we won’t be lazy
Doin’ the old folks boogie
Down on the farm
Wheelchairs, they was locked arm in arm
Paired off pacemakers with matchin’ alarms
Gives us jus’ one more chance
To spin one more yarn
And you know that you’re over the hill
When your mind makes a promise that your body can’t fill
Doin’ the old folks boogie
And boogie we will
‘Cause to us the thought’s as good as a thrill
Back at the home,
No time is your own,
Facillities there, they’re all out on loan
The bank forclose, and your bankruptcy shows
And your credit creeps to an all-time low
So you know, that you’re over the hill
When your mind makes a promise that your body can’t fill
Try and get a rise from an atrophied muscle,
And the nerves in your thigh just quivers and fizzles
So you know, that you’re over the hill
When your mind makes a promise that your body can’t fill
