My View from 1958

The End of the Trail

Time changes all. As the 80’s rolled into the 90’s there were multiple factors impacting the band, least of which was the age of the bandmembers. Being in a band is a young man’s game. Late nights, setting up the equipment and then packing it up again, driving 60 to 70 miles each weekend night (one way) then getting up early for work or church, alcohol, cigarettes and smokey bars. Although dad and his buddies did their best to not” let the old man in”, you can’t stop nature.

I helped dad on multiple occasions to load the amplifiers and other band equipment in his pickup. Let me tell you that the stuff was not light, plus you had to crawl around in the back of a pickup with a topper on it.  It seemed like the members of the band were not around often when it came time to load and unload. Then a few of them started to bow out of the gigs so dad had to scramble to get substitutes. This was starting to become a pain in the ass.  I could tell dad lost some of the joy. The writing was on the wall.

The music started to change as well. Punk Rock was becoming widespread, and although we survived disco, pop and the beginnings of hip hop were becoming increasingly popular as well. Country was on the outs, at least for a while.

The economy changed too. The farm crisis in late 70’s and into the early 80’s took an impact on the town of Shenandoah. Farmers suffered, banks suffered, businesses suffered. Dad’s business took a big hit. Farmers could no longer pay their fuel bill. Dad had a hard time paying the fuel suppliers. Banks carefully scrutinized loans.  People had less money in their pockets for weekend entertainment. The clubs were less willing to pay for a band.  The demand for the Hayshakers was no longer there.

The biggest blow of all was when we found out my mother had cancer. Mom was always the “good hearted woman”, who supported dad’s music desires and “good timing”. Although she enjoyed listening to the band, after several years that got a bit old and by now exhausting so mom attended less often. It got to the point that she no longer attended.

So, the economy was hurting, age slowed everyone, friends pass, music tastes changed, and the illness of mom forced the band to an end around 1996 or so.  It was a good run. On rare occasion dad would still play, but for the most part he stayed with mom full time until her death in 1997. They were together for 45 years. After mom’s passing, dad would only play on unique circumstances, getting together with friends for some small group jam session. For all practical purposes,  the era of the Hayshakers was over.

I think the last public appearance dad made was in 2010, when I asked him to play at my class reunion. Of course, everyone in my class knew dad and fondly remembered the Hayshakers so he was once again a headliner. Final songs as I recall were “Folsom Prison Blues”, and “White Lightening”. Johnny and Hank. The pictures below are from this performance.  The crowd went wild.

Shortly after that performance, dad went to a rest home, where he spent his last years of his life. He was fortunate enough to still have surviving friends and family who would come by for a visit and on occasion a guitar jam.

Dad passed away January 13, 2015. He was 86 years old. An excerpt from his obituary below summarizes a good part of his life well:

Harvey was the owner of the local DX service station and tank wagon service for over 60 years. The station also doubled as a meeting location for many of his friends. Harvey was known to all as Hound Dog. He was a member of the local band the “Hayshakers” with Don Stripe, Don and David Owens, Charlie Ingram, Sam Irvin, and others. His musical career began in 1975 in Bill Miller’s truck shed where he conducted jam sessions. The Hayshakers were formed as a result of those sessions and performed for many years all over southwest Iowa. Harvey loved to play and sing many of the old George Jones and Hank Williams songs.

To keep his memory alive, I tried to play the guitar and the mandolin. Even the harmonica. In junior high I also tried to play the trombone (what a joke). I failed at all. I have no musical talent, so I am capturing his memory with my blog. I am hoping friends and family will also keep his memory alive.

I am not going to get religious or philosophical, that is not my style. But I kinda think when dad met St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he would have smiled and said, “Hound dog, I think Hank would have done it that way. Come on in”.