(Ray Brandes’ account of their Midwest tour, undertaken in January of 1985, originally appeared on the liner notes to the Tell-Tale Hearts’ “Live Volume II: Later That Same Night in Springfield” album, released with Volume I in 1997 on Corduroy Records, Australia.)
“Mad” Jon McKinney, tour promoter extraordinaire and proprietor of the Primitive A–Go-Go, Springfield, Missouri’s, first- and last-ever sixties garage-punk nightclub, had a dream: to turn Downtown Springfield into Swinging London. He called, and we answered.
Though I had long ago learned the secret of keeping my expectations low in order to always be pleasantly surprised, I must admit that my first real journey beyond the confines of California (which began ominously with the rear-view mirror vision of my sleeping bag flying away from the luggage rack somewhere near Gila Bend, Arizona), tested the limits of the depths to which those expectations could sink. In January of 1985, in the midst of one of the worst winter storms on record, a rented Dodge Caravan containing little more than two guitars, a Vox Continental organ, several harmonicas, a few broken maracas, a tambourine and five young travelers made its way east towards its destination: the mythical Midwestern city of Springfield, Missouri.
Cramped living quarters, a band fund slightly greater than the gross national product of Equatorial Guinea, and the frayed nerves of five world-class smartasses threatened to derail our trip on several occasions. With highway hypnosis on long stretches where the road offered fewer surprises than a Denny’s menu, I was at one point terrified I would have to endure three weeks without the sight of even a single attractive woman. Fortunately, however, my fears passed as easily as a patty melt eaten at the Woolworth’s in downtown Springfield, and I ultimately gained a profound and unshakable respect for all things Midwestern.
Over the river and through the woods to the McKinney’s house we went, sloshing through the snow in apparel reflective of the kind of cold-weather readiness that might be expected from Southern Californians: Beatle boots, sunglasses, three-buttoned jackets and tab-collared shirts. Hot meals and baths compliments of Jon’s mother, as well as the copious consumption of cheap beer and whiskey kept us from freezing to death in the crawl space above the Primitive A-Go-Go, which we lovingly called home for nearly a week. We looked forward to descending the stairs to the club each night, where Springfield’s most enlightened citizens took to the Tell-Tale Hearts like sailors on a weekend pass. Folks from hundreds of miles around braved the harsh winter weather to come to the opening of his nightclub, a testimony to Jon McKinney’s sphere of influence in the Midwest. (We even encountered a young man who had driven an unheated Volkswagen Bug in a blizzard all the way from Tulsa, Oklahoma just to see us play!) We, too, were like sailors on a weekend pass, determined to savor every last second of our furloughs, and what our shows lacked in sobriety was more than compensated for by enthusiasm, energy and outright belligerence.
In Springfield we were privileged to meet a string of unforgettable characters, including a mustachioed mod with a speech impediment whom the locals had dubbed “Quaalude,” a pitiful young man who had once tried to commit suicide by gargling with drain cleaner and had merely succeeded in making his voice hoarse, and a home grown guitarist with the unlikely rock and roll name of “Jabez Petefish.”
On this trip I experienced a string of lifetime firsts: seeing snow fall, crossing the Mississippi River, and peeing out of a window into a potato chip bag in 20-degree weather and watching the wind carry the frozen chunk down the early morning streets. We endured the “Blue Law,” (a curious interpretation of the biblical admonition to honor the Sabbath, which prohibits the selling of alcohol on Sundays); explored unpillaged thrift stores; took advantage of unsophisticated record-store owners; and otherwise enjoyed the hospitality of countless people whose names have long ago faded from our collective memory.
There is no doubt the “Belt Buckle of the Bible Belt” strains under the weight of a bloated biscuits-and-gravy-filled gut. But under that fleshy midsection beats a warm heart, and the Midwesterners we met turned out to be a friendly, unpretentious, surprisingly open-minded people, despite their tragic and widespread inability to prepare Mexican food. There will never be another Primitive A-Go-Go; it is my sincere hope that listening to this humble artifact brings you a fraction of the pleasure making it brought me. Thank you Mike, Bill, Eric, Dave, and especially Jon.
The Tell-Tale Hearts play ? and the Mysterians’ “Smokes” at Primitive A-Go-Go:
–Ray Brandes, 1997
How many of us actually toured during this era?
I knew the Hearts made this haj to Springfield, and I believe they also visited the Bay area on occasion … The Morlocks relocated to SF, Hair Theatre played there once or twice, and the Wallflowers made their epic visit to Arizona’s Purple Turtle. (For the record, my bands never got further north than LA or further east than Escondido.)
Who else put in serious interstate miles back in the day?
Beautifully written! I’ll bet the drive retraced a lot of the old Route 66…
I just found an image and (Spanish-language) description of “Later That Same Night in Springfield,” the album documenting this tour. Ray, this cover is hilarious!
I enjoyed the story very much. The late period Tell Tale Hearts with Jon McKinney on rhythm guitar released two obscure 45s that are well worth tracking down.
I’ve recently started a podcast featuring long lost gems from the mid 80s that many of the readers here may dig. I’ve posted the link below.
http://expo67.podomatic.com/
Here’s what Volume I looks like.
Ray: I have a screen print poster from your springfield show and also a flyer from a the Vegas show. Both are very cool.
I have always wondered about your tour. To bad you guys did not make it to the east coast, they would have went nuts.
I have also toured the midwest and made the mistake of eating Mexican food two nights in a row, Cincinnati & Columbus Ohio. Bad Idea!
Next day in Detriot we ate Polish food, made me feel much better. Nothing “beets” cold Borsch on a hot muggy midwestern summer day.
Wow, I remember when this trip happened, and even remember Ray’s writing, from ’87. But I don’t own those records. I suppose it’s not too late. I believe Corduroy has a website….
Jon McKinney. Where is he these days? In Yucaipa? I was last in contact with him in about 1999 / 2000, when he briefly had Beathaven Records going, and put out the Carl Rusk “Blue Period” record, which had been recorded way back in 1994 when Mark Neill was back in Valdosta, GA and had his studio there. So McKinney enters the San Diego story by way the Heart’s ’85 “tour,” ends up moving to San Diego and joining the band at some point. Was Peter Miesner in the band at the same time?
The gentleman from Corduroy made a visit to San Diego--even to the shed behind my parent’s house in Serra Mesa to hear the Nashville Ramblers. That must have been summer, 1985. I imagine that’s when the momentum toward putting out the TTH live records began.
Wait! Ray, you played Las Vegas on the same trip? If so, I take those quotation marks back from “tour”! I take them back anyway. Perhaps the term odyssey would be justified. But not “Odessey”! Ha. In-joke there for you Zombies fans.
I note that the man I mentioned as “the man from Corduroy” most patently did NOT have a record label at the time! He was just a kid from Australia who came over with a friend to check out the scene. He should probably check in here on the blog as well. Funny how one keeps thinking of additional appropriate characters who would probably have stories to tell. I saw him in Spain in 2004 when the Nashville Ramblers played the Wild Weekend (under our alias, the Black Diamonds). I hope he’s well. He seemed just a bit sad--as possibly I did at the time, too, actually--so maybe it was projection. Who hasn’t had a heartbroken era or just a bit of a weight to bear? I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I had not remembered him as one of the more enthusiastic persons I’ve ever met. I expect he’s rebounded or perhaps I me have mispercieved things in the first place.
I think I meant to follow up, but it would now be on the list of a thousand other things I’ve meant to do and have yet to do.
Let’s invite him for electronic tea sometime.
I might add that in 2000 I played Spain with Dave Klowden, Peter Miesner, Ron Silva and a keyboard player under the name the Tell-Tale Hearts. Not a good idea, either, despite a sellout 3,000 ticket gig and a free trip to Spain. ( I suppose sellout is the appropriate term, though, isn’t it? ) Since then, all has been forgiven, all around.
Australians in Clairemont! The first time those guys showed up, they came to a Sovereigns practice at my parents house. They had beers and said “g’day mate”. They were alot of fun! They bought that Chevy van that burned more oil and got them pulled over several times by the SDPD.
“…where they camped with Mike and Bill for several months and attended every TTH show during that time.”
Small point of correction. Mike had already moved out to Chula Vista and I had moved in. The Aussies were on our floor for many months. And then about 3 other Aussies who came for a few weeks. And then there was also Jack Hayden from Davis. It’s amazing we could even stand up in that place.