Bakersfield

Gill and Franklin’s Buck and Merle collaboration

Bakersfield

Dust Bowl memorial

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

              The first memory of Bakersfield was August temperatures and the smell of cattle in numbers. The year was 1973 and the visit was short enough to wonder when it was going to rain and long enough to recognize Kern County surely wasn’t the world’s vision of California.

            The purple and gold sign signifying ‘Bakersfield’ was still spanning Union Avenue and the Crystal Palace wasn’t yet a thought. We knew, though, it was Buck Owens and Merle Haggard country from the music streaming out of local AM radio.

            On our departure from town, we took Highway 65 north toward Porterville to view the Sequoias in the Sierra beyond. The visual impact of that drive left two memories. The first was the abundance of golden grass on the east side of highway and the second was the abundance of trees that lined the west side (that curiously looked like they had been planted in straight rows just like gravestones planted in the military cemetery back home).

            We finally stopped to look at what was growing on the trees and, initially, it looked like little peaches until we tried to eat one. We discovered it was actually a nut. In fact, it was an almond just like we’d see at Christmas. Almonds grew on trees!

What I couldn’t possibly foresee, however, was that ten years later … I would be farming that very orchard.

            Gill and Franklin revisit Bakersfield

            For a rare change, I was tickled when I read the paper. The article described how Vince Gill and Paul Franklin were going to release an album celebrating a collection of songs from the Bakersfield era. Well, alright.

            The article prompted a flood of memories. After graduate school, Bakersfield became our home. It changed our life forever.

            Simply, if any young person has any inkling of dedicating a career to agriculture, it would be my sincere hope that he or she could spend time in Bakersfield and Kern County. It is a can do place with can do people.

            When we arrived in 1981 as two scared kids with two little daughters in tow, it was a big, frightening change from our New Mexico. We learned about the comments and the seedy reputation of what others said about that outpost over the Tehachapi Mountains from Los Angeles, but our view was founded from a different perspective. We saw Bakersfield for what it really was … a community founded in the surroundings of productive resources with a core leadership of folks who descended from one of the three greatest social upheavals in our nation’s history …  the Great Depression.

            We still view that Golden Empire with amazement at what the work ethic of Depression era descendents combined with agriculture and oil resources can accomplish.

            Deceased rancher, Tom Mee, told me in the old days agriculturists as far away as Monterrey County would rely on the abundant services in Bakersfield … at any time of the day or any day of the week. Tom’s Mickey Rooney looks and comedic expressions emphasized “anything” with a clear emphasis of what he implied. Anything meant anything in Bakersfield, and, with that reputation, its character grew.

            It was inhabited by a no holds barred people.

            Friend and longtime Superior Farming mainstay, Paul Knupp, related how easy it was to spot the girls from Bakersfield when he was attending college at Cal Poly, San Luis. “It was the bouffant hair dos, their tight pants and big belt buckles, and their pickup trucks that gave them away,” Knupp would say. “They were pretty good in a scrape, too.”

Paul ought to know. He married one of those girls

            The same sort of character shines forth through their prep football traditions. The town may not have a Pro Bowl or Hall of Famer at every position, but they could field a good professional team with every position. Led by Frank Gifford, Jeff Siemon, and Louis Wright, the modern cavalcade continues with the likes of David Carr and Ryan Matthews.

Yes, the lights shine abundantly on fall Friday nights in Bakersfield, and … the churches are filled on Sunday mornings.

The population sign on southbound 99 near the Rosedale exit indicated the population was less than 80,000 when we arrived. It was a much smaller community, though, than the sign suggested. Lives were touched across a network of relationships that only Bakersfield could create.

In an early rosary we attended, Father Timothy O’Neill came to us. We weren’t Catholic, but immensely talented and articulate Father O’Neill continued to exist within the framework of our life. So did Pastor Norb Oesch. It was the latter that gestured a toast across a packed Roadrunner Barbeque hall one night that sealed our relationship with St. John’s Lutheran Church. It became our foundational church home.

Lasting impact

Lasting impressions from time now away still reflect vivid responses. The feel of the air and the beauty of mid February lingers. Bud break in the vineyards, almond bloom, and the verdant green of the foothills against a backdrop of snow on the crest of the mountains will always be reoccurring visions. The smell of bloom and harvest and the endless 100º days are there as well, but the music … was defining.

Merle wasn’t on the horizon of our personal lives, but Buck was. We heard the stories of Merle living in a rail car in the marshalling yard in midtown in his youth, but the more lasting impact on our time was his home at the mouth of the Kern River Canyon. He no longer lived there, but it was still ‘Merle’s house’.

We had only seen him when he came home to perform at the Kern County Fair. We went and were astounded at the free flow of beer throughout the concert and the fights that erupted as a result. At one point, Merle was singing yet another classic and I noticed he and I were both watching a first rate fist fight in front of the beer truck parked in the infield. Kathy gasped and poked me in the side.

“Look at that fight,” she had yelled in my ear.

As I shook my head yes, she poked me again with her elbow. “No, that one!” she yelled.

Actually, there were three fights taking place simultaneously. Merle Haggard music set to brawls had a unique bit of earthiness.

Buck’s memory was actually more refined. He was a very visible figure in the community. We knew where he lived at the old Camp place on Poso Creek. We would see him regularly. Many mornings Buck would be met coming south on Zerker Avenue in his dirty ‘60s era white sedan headed to town. He would look like he just crawled out of bed.

Both of our daughters had direct contact with him. They attended several school related functions in the studios of KUZZ, Buck’s radio station, in Oildale. He’d be there in his elevated chair and talk to them.

It was also from there that the voice of James Holley (By Golly!), son of Joe and cousin of Buddy, would greet Bakersfield every weekday morning. James had a band, The Haywire Band, and we danced many times to James’ version and blend of Bob Wills and Bakersfield. Those were great dances and even greater music.

There were a few ventures into the Union Avenue-Baker Street dives like Wild Bill’s, but those places were just too rough. The things that would go on there were just too bizarre. It was best to follow James Holley’s schedule of events. The allure of Bakersfield was still abundant and fun, but his venues were less … life threatening.

Loyalty

Buck Owens was as much Bakersfield as Bakersfield was Buck Owens. Not a native son, Buck was still the adopted son of renown. He led a troupe of Bakersfield musicians such as the likes of Susan Raye, Buddy Allen, Bonnie Owens, Leona Williams, and the wildly popular Don Rich who clung to the town with full kinship. I believe that loyalty was returned in a reciprocation that exceeded Merle’s. Merle was a product of Bakersfield, but, in a greater sense, he was no longer part of Bakersfield. There were implications in that.

None-the-less, I can’t wait to hear the Gill-Franklin versions of “Together Again” and “Holding Things Together”. With its release, perhaps everybody can experience a truer measure … of ‘walking the streets of Bakersfield’.

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “Don Rich was killed on a motorcycle on his way from Bakersfield to Moro Bay. In my opinion, Don Rich sealed the deal for Buck Owens. Singing harmony and playing guitar and fiddle with the Buckaroos, Rich was the flashy, quintessential showman. Those who knew him believed it was Rich who secured Buck’s stardom. His distinctive guitar style was a thing of legend. He was a defining force behind the modern Bakersfield sound.”

Wilmeth fans will enjoy his article "Green Hucksters" in the current issue of Range Magazine where he compares Kieran Suckling and the Center For Biological Diversity to Wolfman Jack and radio station XERF in Mexico. All friends of The Westerner should subscribe to the magazine, which you can do by going here, or by calling 1-800-RANGE-4-U.  It's only $15.95 a year.

Wilmeth's musical reminiscences will determine our Ranch Radio Song Of The Day.  Check it out below.