W. C. Clark: November 16, 1939 - March 2, 2024

 The world learned of the passing of W.C. Clark on March 2, 2024 from Austin music historian and critic Michael Corcoran.  To learn about the man, his music and the profound impact he had on the Austin, TX music scene, please read Corcoran's article "W.C. Clark the gentleman godfather of Austin Blues 1939-2024" on his excellent substack site "Overserved" .

The reason I say that is because you are not going to get that information from me, a music fan living 1,171 miles away at the Northern end of I35.  I barely knew Wesley Curley Clark, we only met on three occasions.  But his music has brought me tremendous joy and I just had to share one of his seemingly small acts of kindness that meant the world to me.

I first met W.C. at a club in Austin called the Top of the Mark.  I was on a Gonzo intermodal (air and car) trip to see my friends in Roomful of Blues play the House of Blues in New Orleans and two days later the Top of the Mark in Austin.  I call it a Gonzo trip because for a period of time in the late 1990's to early 2000's I was going through a tough divorce and my running mate was a fellow divorcee, a very large, professional chef, Jonesy.  Much like the protagonists in HST's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", except the 300 pound Samoan was a chef and Hunter was the attorney.  

The flight to New Orleans had a 4 hour layover in Dallas.  Normally such a layover would be a dealbreaker.  However, this was cool because, through the band, I had met their friend Stew and he had offered to meet us at a bar to kill some time.  Unfortunately for us, Roomful had just played Billy Bob's in Dallas the night before and Stewie had been in attendance and overserved.  After touching down at Love Field in Dallas that morning, Jonesy and I grabbed our one carry-on piece of luggage each and took off on foot, leaving the airport for a nearby McDonald's.  

It took several calls before Stew eventually answered his phone.  He asked our location so he could figure out a nearby bar to meet.When I tell him our location, Stew makes an audible moan which I initially mistook as more of his hangover talking.  Stewie finally exclaims "man, that's a rough part of town, I don't know of any bars around there, at least that I have been to".  I tell him hold on and I walk outside the McDonalds and down the street until I see a bar and give ol' Stew the name and address.  Jonesy and I proceed to enter an extremely seedy establishment, the name of which is lost to posterity and several rounds.  Big mistake.  

To call this a working man's bar would be a misnomer because no one in the bar looked like they were currently employed based on the time of day, before noon and their level of intoxication, drunk.  Furthermore, Jones and I were the only honkies in the room with the exception of a friendly but somewhat well-worn middle aged woman who introduced herself as "Miss Wanda" and the sketchy looking bartender.  

Before long Jonesy and I are buying rounds for Miss Wanda and anyone nearby.  About every half hour I am calling Stewie wondering when he was going to join us.  The question out of  about every patron's mouth was what we were doing in a place like that.  I am sure to them we looked like undercover Dallas Vice cops.  When I mentioned we were killing time on a layover on a music trip to New Orleans, Miss Wanda perked up.  "Music...I love music, I use to live in Austin."  As kind of a test and just out of curiosity I ask Wanda "Did you ever see W.C. Clark?"  Wanda, replies something to the effect, "That old man, of course, he is such a fixture it would be hard to not have seen him".  Having not seen W.C. in person up to this point I said we must be thinking of different people because I have several of his records and he has the voice of a song bird.  No "old man" could possibly hit some of the notes he hits..."  We go back and forth, the argument becoming somewhat heated.  In a desperate attempt to change the subject, the sketchy looking bartender reaches under the counter and pulls up a plate of  warm tuna fish sandwiches, cut in half and complete with flies (not a typo, the insect).  To shut us up the bartender says "Since you two are so sure of yourselves, why don't you bet?"  To which I reply, "But we'll never see each other again." Whereupon Miss Wanda grabs a scrap of paper and writes down her address and hands it to me saying "if he is over 60 years old you owe me $10 and if he is under 60 I owe you."  

It was at this point the bartender said"when did you boys say your flight was?"   I look at the clock and let out a high pitched "EECK!"  We got less than 30 minutes to make our plane.  Jonesy and I go into full panic mode running around wringing our hands while the bartender and Miss Wanda keep level headed and call us a cab which arrives in under 5 minutes.  They tell the cabbie our situation and he tells us "...you'll never make it if I take you to the terminal".  In a scene that could only have happened pre-911, the cabbie takes us to a gate at Love Field which must have been for those with private planes.  The cabbie knew the person working security at the gate and we opened our carry ons for a quick peek and were waived through and directed to a plane on the tarmac with a set of stairs on wheels next to it like in the olden days. 

The flight to New Orleans, although somewhat of a blur to us, I am sure is remembered by our fellow passengers.  My friend Jones, who considered himself quite the lady's man, was carrying on a loud, risque' conversation with the octogenarian woman sitting next to him.  In an attempt to distract my friend, I took the opportunity to loudly announce to everyone that the 15-1 Minnesota Vikings were going to avenge their 4 Super Bowl defeats after they crush the Atlanta Falcons in the NFC Championship game on Sunday.

The show at the House of Blues went off famously.  After the gig some wealthy fans of the band sent private coaches to take the band and their entourage, including us, to their mansion on a golf course for an after hours party, featuring Louisiana cuisine made from scratch , that lasted until dawn.  I had spent a lot of my time at the show and after hours party talking to a charming and knowledgeable silver haired gentleman who was introduced to me as the "Governor".  It was only until the next day when we ran into the band after only a few hours sleep that I mentioned what to me was the coolest part about the night before, that I had met and talked with the Governor of Louisiana.  This brought a chorus of hilarious laughter from the band.  "What's so funny?"  I sheepishly ask.   The "Governor" I had been talking to was not, in fact, a politician, but rather the esteemed WOZ radio dj and host of the show "The Governor's Mansion".  

Jones and I were so hungover trying to explore New Orleans that late Sunday morning we rented a horse drawn carriage.  When the driver learned Jones was a chef he talked us into being dropped off at an expensive Italian restaurant for which I suspect he got a commission for.  Following our meal we proceeded to Patrick O'Brien's Bar, famous as the Home of the Hurricane cocktail, where we watched our beloved Vikings lose when our kicker, Anderson, who had a perfect season up to that point, making every field goal and extra point, misses a chip shot resulting in a Falcons victory.  So much for my in flight football proclamations.

Fast forward two evenings later, Jones and I had rented a car in New Orleans late Monday morning and made the eight hour trip to Austin in record time. The band had left New Orleans the night before and in light of our condition the last time they saw us, were quite sure there was no way in hell we would be making the show that night in Austin.  So when Jonesy and I entered the Top of the Mark a few songs into Roomful's first set, the band members mouths dropped to the floor and I swear they missed a beat.  When the set ended we joined them in what I recall was the basement or storage room that doubled as the bands green room at the Top of the Mark.  In addition to my friend and I, the band had two other guests. Fran Christina, the original drummer in Roomful of Blues before joining the Thunderbirds and the other guest was none other than one Wesley Curley Clark.

After recovering from the serendipity of it all, I think I told W.C. all about my encounter with Miss Wanda in the seedy bar in Dallas and even produced the scrap of paper with her address on it as proof.  As I recall, we even joked about how funny it would be to have W.C. collect the bet in person for me next time he was in Dallas.  I remember standing next to W.C.  during the second set and when the band started into the song W.C. wrote and suggested they cover, "Standing at the Crossroads" he looked at me and said "I wrote that " to which I replied "I know".

Several years later a new blues club, the Narrows, opened in the Minneapolis suburb of Wayzata.  As part of the grand opening month they book none other than the Godfather of Austin Blues, W.C.Clark.  I was so excited I fired up my 1973 Buick Riviera Boattail and headed for Wayzata.  But before going to the show, I stopped in at the best steak restaurant in Wayzata which coincidentally is where my friend  was still the head chef.  Unable to get off work, I wound up going to the show by myself, which is actually my preferred way to see live music.  I was early enough to get a table not far from the stage and before long W.C. comes out to start his first set.  Although a little disappointed he didn’t have his band with him, given the size of the club and it just having opened, I understood the cost would have been prohibitive.  

At the end of his first set and before he could get off the stage, W.C. was met by a staff member of one our local public radio stations, who, microphone in hand, began interviewing him.  During the interview W.C. kept looking over in my direction until, after about the third time, he held up his hand in front of the reporter's microphone as if to say "one moment please", climbed off the stage and came directly over to my table.  With a quizzical look on his face he says "It's Jim, isn't it?"  Before I can respond verbally, my body language gives him his answer and his quizzical look is replaced by a broad grin.  After exchanging routine pleasantries (e.g.  "How have you been?"  "Thank you for coming" etc.) for the life of me I cannot recall any more of our conversation.

My head was swimming in a sea of thoughts ranging from immense pride to insecure doubt.  I didn't know whether to take pride in the fact Mr. Clark remembered me and that he cut-off the interview to come say hello or to question what I did to be so memorable to the likes of one of my heroes.  What is important to me and what I will always cherish, is how that small act of remembrance made me feel.  

Now fast forward to the summer of 2022.  The nation is starting to come out of the covid lockdown.  I had been worrying if I would ever get another chance to see many of my favorite acts again.  When I see the line-up for the Antone's 47th Anniversary Party included some of my old friends in Roomful of Blues and W.C. Clark there was no question I was going.  

It was so good to see W. C. again.  In his early 80’s, W.C.  had aged noticeably since we last met.   Alas, there was no remembrance from him this time or at least that he would acknowledge.    I even asked if he would take a picture with someone who came all he way from Minneapolis to see him, hoping it may spark something, but no.  

But you know what?  I was more than okay with that.  In fact, it gave me an inkling of the feeling W.C. must have felt when he made my day by simply remembering me.  And how cool is that! 

These are some of the pictures and videos I shot at the Antone's 47th Anniversary Party.