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November 5, 2003
Wine Me Up, Turn Me On and Watch Me Cry For You
I learned the saddest thing yesterday. Don Walser has retired.
Ever since I moved to Austin, he’s been a fixture. You could hear him Tuesday nights at Jovita’s, Wednesdays at Threadgills, Thursdays at the other Threadgills as a jazzy combo and countless times over the weekend at the Broken Spoke. When I worked at Jovita’s briefly a few years back, Tuesdays were my favorite shift. Even though I’d come in bone tired from my day job and knowing I’d have to withstand asshole comments from the clientele (not to mention a few of the other waitresses) I didn’t mind because I also knew that there would be Don. There would be Don and his voice like a holy honky-tonk angel, and his wife Pat at the front table with a stack of 8x10 glossies of the Pavarotti of the Plains himself, which he would happily autograph in between sets. When I was first living here, and a little uncertain whether or not I was in the right place, I would go see Don for free and listen to him play his guitar and open his mouth to let that amazing yodel come out. I would listen to him play “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” and think of my daddy so far away (who used to play that song when he and my mama would sit around playing their guitars) and I would furtively tear up, still feeling lonesome, but feeling a little less far away.
Don seems like everybody’s daddy or granddaddy. He’s round and smiley, and you can tell he’s a little shy, but that he’s tickled to death to be playing his music for so many people. You just want to give him a hug and tell him thanks real quick before you politely shuffle back to your seat and let him take care of the real business at hand.
But it seems that is all no more. A quick glance at his website says that he’s officially retired. A wash of sadness fell over me when I read that. There’ll be no more Tuesday nights at Jovita’s when Karla comes back from Japan. No more being able to count on seeing him almost any night of the week, and being able to have some sort of combo plate while doing it. No more comforting from a sweet, otherworldly cowboy’s voice.
If you go to his website, he asks that you email him and let him know your thoughts. There are also a bunch of Real Audio clips (sorry) to listen to if you’ve never had the distinct pleasure of seeing him in person or on record.
Posted by pogo at November 5, 2003 10:56 AM
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Comments
It really made me sad to hear the news about poor Don from you last night… I have to say that he didn’t look very well any of the times that I’ve seen him. I’m never be able to get yodels and mole in the same place again, too.
Posted by: jacob on November 5, 2003 11:44 AM
No no no no no no no no nooooooo!!!
I feel inclined to say something else about it, something about how much those evenings with Don at Jovita’s meant to me and my reluctant acceptance, and then later open-armed embrace, of Texas and music made by men in cowboy hats, and how those evenings are some of my very fondest memories of Austin, and how I can’t listen to Don without feeling profoundly happy, but I’m just going to have to let it sink in first.
Posted by: Karla on November 5, 2003 4:29 PM