One of the most remarkable summers of my young life centered around the Dow Hotel in Freeport, Texas. My days were full from one end to the other. First came summer school. When school let out, I went to work. In the afternoons, I worked as a bellhop at the Dow Hotel. That alone would have been a respectable summer job for a high-school boy. But my day wasn't finished. In the evenings, I worked as a lifeguard. Then came nighttime. At night, I played music in the hotel's Rathskeller Club.
So, there were days when my schedule looked something like this: Student in the morning. Bellhop in the afternoon. Lifeguard in the evening. Musician at night. Then I got up and did it again. It was quite a change from the little boy who had grown up on a farm outside Lohn. But perhaps it wasn't as different as it appeared. On the farm, work was simply part of life. You did what needed to be done. Now the work was different. Instead of farm work, there were hotel guests and luggage.
Instead of a stock tank or a country swimming hole, there was a swimming pool and the responsibility of watching over other people's safety. And when the day's other work was finished, there was still music. There was always music.
The Rathskeller Club
Of those jobs, playing at night in the Rathskeller Club was the one that connected most directly with the boy I had been. I had started playing before audiences when I was only about ten years old. The Rockin' Three had played talent shows, the Eden Firemen's Ball, and live television in Abilene. At Brady High School, I had played lead guitar in the FFA band. Now I was playing in a club while also trying to make up the school credits I had lost.
Music had followed me from McCulloch County all the way to the Gulf Coast. It would follow me much farther than that.
Brazosport High School
I eventually did what had seemed doubtful after that disastrous sophomore year. I caught up. I graduated from Brazosport High School. That diploma represented more than finishing high school. I knew what was behind it. Summer school and those jobs helped me recover the credits I needed. I graduated in a class of 472 students. Next came Lamar and the Fergusons, especially Jim. This time, I was leaving home by choice.