Postcard from Tulsa - “Carousing at Cain’s”
"The Carnegie Hall of Western Swing" is just one of many titles that have been bestowed on Tulsa's famed Cain's Ballroom since its opening in the 1920s. It was from this stage that Bob Wills helped introduce Western Swing to the masses, and decades later crowds continue to flock here to take a spin on its legendary dance floor. In this episode, we'll experience this venue's magic on the occasion of Asleep at the Wheel's 50th Anniversary Tour, and hang out backstage with their legendary front man Ray Benson. Former owner Larry Schaeffer also shares stories of some of the more temperamental artists who've passed through including Hank Williams and The Sex Pistols. Author John Wooley is also on hand to provide a little history, while current stewards Chad Rodgers and Brad Harris talk about how they've guided Cain's into the 21st century.
TRANSCRIPT
(As this transcript was obtained via a computerized service, please forgive any typos, spelling and grammatical errors)
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
“I grew up on music that we call Western Swing.” Waylon Jennings famously sang those words, but in a strange, roundabout way, I can say the same. My Dad remains a huge fan of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, and hits like Roly Poly and The San Antonio Rose were essential for any of our road trip mix tapes. Coming of age in Austin, I saw the fiddler Johnny Gimble fill in on gigs at the Carousel Lounge, and remain a dedicated groupie of The Hot Club of Cowtown. So, when I set out on this Route 66 journey, for me, a stop at Cain’s Ballroom in Tulsa, which might be the genre’s greatest cathedral, was absolutely non negotiable. And when I found out that Asleep at the Wheel would be playing there as part of their 50th anniversary tour- you better believe I planned my travels accordingly. I’m Evan Stern. And this, is Vanishing Postcards.
Ray Benson (00:31):
Don't need no more awards. Don't need no more statues. Don't need more affirmations. Uh, all I need is an audience and a band to play with me.
Evan Stern (00:41):
Ray Benson, the approachable founder and front man of the band Asleep at the Wheel has produced over 30 albums, won eight Grammys, performed for presidents and paupers alike, and at age 70 doesn't seem phased by much. He started this group, which fans affectionately call ”The Wheel” in 1970 and over half a hundred years later, they’re still on the road. Puffing on a joint from his bus on the day of a play and drive, he tells me so long as his fingers and voice remain in working condition, retirement isn't a word in his vocabulary. At this point, he's in this game for the fun of it still tonight feels special.
Ray Benson (01:22):
I'll tell you what. First time I stepped on this stage was 50 years ago next month!
Ray Benson (01:40):
1971, the winter of 1971, we were backing up the same guy, Stony Edwards, and I recall the way it was, uh, how classic it was, the wood floor. And the history is what's really embedded in the walls. You know, the pictures that line it are just, just a classic. It was a magic magic moment for us. We stood on the stage and, and it was and played a song and it was kinda like, uh, literally to us it felt like, okay, we made it to Carnegie Hall and, and this is it. And, uh, it was wonderful.
Evan Stern (02:16):
The stage he's speaking of and gracing again, is of course Cain’s Ballroom. Located on Tulsa's Main Street in a space whose cavernous interior could double as an airplane hanger, architecturally speaking, it has little in common with Andrew Carnegie's Gilded Age venue, but Mr. Benson is by no means the only one who regards this place with deep reverence.
Larry Schaeffer (02:37):
To me, Cain’s is the most revered building in the state of Oklahoma. In terms of that sentimental journey type museum aura, Cain’s is it. It's not the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City. It's not the Will Rogers Museum. And I love Will Rogers, by the way. Cain’s Ballroom is the center. And here's why my theory is we're the whole world, we're all connected to each other by music. And because of that, Cain’s is the figurehead. Cain’s is the church, so to speak. And I believe in that,
Evan Stern (03:16):
But if Cain’s is a church hearing stories from a longtime, regular, who just tells me his name is JW I'd wager, this is one of the looser congregations I've encountered.
JW (03:27):
They used to be BYOL. And they would be drinking whiskey. They'd all be drunk. And it, it passing joints up and down the tables. You know, it was a wild time, the seventies.
Evan Stern (03:39):
Do you have a first memory of Cain’s?
JW (03:42):
Yeah. Six point tall boy Coors, getting drunk, sitting on the curb, outside with my head down in the curb and real drunk my first time. But it was so much fun. They had tall boy Coors and ice like watermelons
Evan Stern (04:01):
Interestingly enough, though, I learned from Larry Schaeffer, Cain's white ponytailed cigar chomping former owner that it was initially intended as a playground for oil rich Tulsa's high society.
Larry Schaeffer (04:12):
Madison Cain did not build The Cain's. Okay. T Brady, a local businessman built the building in 1924. What the building, which would become Cain's Ballroom, legend is he built it to be a car dealership. The car dealership fell through. He opens the building in 1924 as a dance hall called The Louvre. Go figure. And it, and it's operated as the Louvre up until Madison Cain came in and bought it in about 1930. Madison Cain grew up in Long Beach, came out to Oklahoma to set up his, to, to have his dancing, uh, company Cain's Academy of Dance. He makes a deal with Tate Brady to get the Louvre. Comes in 1930, the name changes to Cain's Academy of Dance. So that's how the ballroom was built, opens as the Louvre runs its course for several years, Madison Cain comes in and quickly puts it on the map. And they had proper dress. You had to have proper dress. Madison Cain would hire young debonaire guys and as dance instructors. There was a lot of money here and nowhere to go spend it. So there was the more upscale debutants would take dancing lessons. What else are you gonna do? A lot of the streets were just dirt streets-
Evan Stern (05:41):
But while Madison Cain gave the place its name, it was Bob Wills who with the help of his Texas Playboys made it famous well beyond Oklahoma and earned the title King of Western Swing.
John Wooley (05:54):
Western swing is an amalgam of a lot of different kinds of music. It's often, it's often lumped in with country music, but it's not really country music. It's, it's a dance music and it's, it's a it's jazz, jazz and dance based. It's it has, it contains elements of Texas fiddle, music, film music, pop music, south of the border of music, uh, blues, rhythm, and blues and big band with, with Western swing. It's still, it's mostly string instruments. It's steel guitar, fiddle. And the Texas people are always sort of POed because Bob Wills had to come here to popularize Western Swing, which they tend to call Texas swing, which is a misnomer.
Evan Stern (06:35):
If you heard the last episode, you'll recognize that voice as John Wooley who co-authored the book 20th Century Honky Tonk about Cain's Ballroom. Why Will and the boys ended up here instead of Fort Worth, Waco, or maybe San Antonio is a long and wild story. Basically they were chased out of Texas and then even Oklahoma city by tea totaling band leader and eventual governor and Senator Pappy O'Daniel whose influence ruled the airwaves with an iron fist,
John Wooley (07:08):
Bob Wills, his business manager, OW Mayo and their announcer and trumpeter Everett Stover were driving from Oklahoma City to Tulsa. And Mr. Mayo always told me he was the one that said, "You know, there's a big station there. This is just a 5,000 watt station we're going to, there's a 25,000 watt station there called KVOO, why don't we go try that first?" Some way or another, they manage to talk their way into going on KVOO at midnight, that was the earliest they could get the rest of the band down. And so that started Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys in Tulsa.
Evan Stern (07:38):
After that first program, they received a postcard from a listener who heard them in far away, Berkeley, California, soon after they moved their show to a prime noontime spot. And in 1935 began broadcasting from Kanes whose large space gave them more room to accommodate their fast rising popularity.
John Wooley (07:59):
It just blew across about half of America because there was no station in the way. And so people were picking it up all over the country and started hearing this new music and, and getting the ideas in their head of the Cain's Ballroom being like the Aragon or something, you know, or some place that like Tommy Dorsey would play. They had all these grandiose ideas of what The Cain's was like. And, and if you look at where Western Swing music really caught on, which is essentially the Southwest and west, it was the broadcast pattern of KVOO.
Evan Stern (08:31):
Indeed, the crowds came like never before and being a working man's entertainer after seeing Mrs. Cain eject a few tieless men from the dance floor, Will saw to it the dress code was disregarded, forever loosening up the place's spirit.
John Wooley (08:46):
The, the first thing is that they changed it from a dance, uh, dance lesson, a place where you had dance lessons, a dancing academy to a, a honky tonk. And that was, that was the doing of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. It was completely different.
Evan Stern (09:45):
Cain's is still known as the home of Bob Wills and an embroidered tassel banner bearing this title hangs over the proscenium stage today. But though significant, Bob Wills's residency only represents about a seven year chapter of Cain's history. And looking up from the maple dance floor, you'll notice the space is watched over by a continuous series of oversized portraits of legends who've performed here. Faces like Ernest Tubb, Patti Page, Glenn Miller, Fats Domino, and Hank Williams, whose presence infamously hangs over a red couch that's still kept in management's office
Larry Schaeffer (10:22):
In October of 52, you know, Hank was in a wobble by then- drug wise, painkillers. I understand and terrible drinker. OW Mayo, Bob Will's manager was co-owner. He hired Hank Williams to come in. Of course he would want to and play two shows in October of, of that year. Hank as I'm told- And I, I got this information I got from OW Mayo who hired him that day. I, I, I was good friends with him before he passed away. Years ago, he hired him. He knew that he, that Hank had a problem with alcohol. He hired Blackie Crawford as the band for him that night. He became so intoxicated that he had to be held up through the first show, right? And the crowd forgave him for it. It was packed by then. When the show's over it's good night, that crowd leaves, they bring in the next. The late show crowd. Hank was too Hank was too out of it to even perform. There was, he was not gonna perform, but Blackie Crawford announced that they're gonna play the show anyway, if people would stay. And they're welcome to get refunds on the way out since Hank couldn't be there, but that Hank was in the office there
Larry Schaeffer (11:50):
Asleep on the couch. I don't know if you recall seeing that on Naugahyde couch. That's the couch. Hank's second show, Hank spent on that couch passed out. Well, as I'm told by OW Mayo, the crowd was kind of okay with that because he was still there. They were sympathetic to that and the crowd stayed, but somehow someone had opened the door from the ballroom into that office. And you could see Hank lying over there. A crowd formed, and they passed by and, with respect. They, they got to see their star passed out on the couch and no one, and no one asked for a refund.
Evan Stern (12:30):
Cain's is rich with stories like these that are in no way limited to the antics of country stars and much of its survival can be attributed to its willingness to adapt with the times, which is a practice Larry Schaeffer deserves credit for helping foster.
Larry Schaeffer (12:44):
I was born in 1948. I grew up west of Tulsa out in the rural area, but there was, there was a lot of storytelling about the Bob Wills days and the old Cain's Ballroom and how, how much great fun it was. And you could buy bootleg whiskey out the back door and you could dance and grab ass. And occasionally there'd be a fist fight breakout. So I, I grew up with that, hearing those stories at a distance. So I, it was in my mind, but did it mean much to me at that point? No,
Evan Stern (13:14):
He wouldn't actually visit Cain's until some years later when he was summoned there to fill in on the steel guitar for a gig with Gene Mooney and the Westernaires.
Larry Schaeffer (13:22):
So I loaded up and I go find Cain's. The first time I'd ever even really paid attention to it. I go inside the ballroom. This would've been in about June of 1971. I walk in the ballroom. Front doors there holding that guitar case. And soon as I walked into the ballroom, I, I was affected. It's just, I got some kind of a caustic shock. Okay. Like I knew, I said, I thought to myself, wow, something big has happened here. When you look at those portraits and you, and the smell, the smell I smell that day is exactly the smell you smelled when you were there. Okay. <laugh>, it's in the DNA. It's in the wall, the DNA's in the walls, but it affected me as a musician to realize, wow, this place is a hidden, hidden treasure. So that was the first time I was in Cain's. After growing up in the fifties and sixties, hearing about it,
Evan Stern (14:19):
Five years later, having found a career as a promoter and made some change booking Peter Frampton and Carlos Santana at the Tulsa fairground Speedway, he went ahead and made a down payment-
Larry Schaeffer (14:30):
About late 1975 or early 76. I saw an announcement that Cain's Ballroom was gonna be up for sale. You know, I gave, I gave 60 grand for Cain's and just worried myself to death that I'd paid too much.
Evan Stern (14:44):
He'd maintain ownership for nearly a quarter century during which time he'd form relations with everyone from Eric Clapton to George Jones, Van Halen. And in 1978, booked a rag tag group of kids from London.
Larry Schaeffer (14:57):
I paid the, I paid the Sex Pistols a thousand dollars. Okay. My tickets were $2 and 50 cents. The, the tour was so unorganized by Malcolm McLaren who managed them, brought them over from London, decided to pick Southern tour and not play Chicago and Detroit, and New York city. But he strung 'em down to the south cause he wanted bad things to happen and get more publicity. 'Cause you know how that works, bad publicity is the best you can get. I had, I didn't sell out. I had eight or 900 people there on a cold snowy night. I had protestors outside of the front door against the evilness. I had so many undercover cops trying to bust these guys for having live sex on stage, which was not even close. They were just a bunch of teenage kids, really trying to pretend they're bad asses. Yeah, I, they hung in my office all day in and out over my feet. I had kept feeding them cases of warm Heineken beer, cuz they wanted to drink their beer. But when they, when they hit, uh, when they went into God Save the Queen. I love these guys, but what it did, what it did, how it affected the musicians and listeners around Tulsa, there was no punk scene until that moment.
Larry Schaeffer (16:18):
So these young rock, a lot of young rockers became punk rockers the next day after they saw the Sex Pistols. And it really stirred up the punk scene around here as it did everywhere probably.
Evan Stern (16:28):
As it turned out, the tour only lasted two weeks and would prove to be one of the final gigs before the band's breakup. Front man, Sid Vicious would also die of an overdose about a year later, but he left an imprint that remains at Cain's today in the form of a hole he punched in the wall back stage that current owner, Chad Rodgers keeps framed in his office mere feet from Hank Williams's memorial couch
Chad Rodgers (16:54):
This wall is where Sid Vicious from The Sex Pistols put his fist in 1978. When we bought the Cain's, we were told that story and it used to be backstage, um, backstage behind the stage. And we had it cut out and framed and brought up here because it's such a historic kind of piece of memorabilia. A lot of the bands that come through they've been told, or they are here have heard about this. So they like to come in the office and see it.
Larry Schaeffer (17:18):
When I was made aware of it, I didn't react well. I, if I'd have been back there, I'd have, I would've taken him to the ground and kicked his for doing it. But, uh, it wasn't a, the walls that back behind a dressing dressing room, weren't that precious. And the wall, the hole that he knocked was actually in to the girls' restroom. <laugh> there was a common wall. So if you knocked a hole in the sheet rock, all of a sudden you you're looking into the girls' bathroom. I don't know if he did it outta anger or what. I wasn't back there with him, but I'd have stopped him if I'd been there.
Evan Stern (17:53):
But dealing with explosive rockers is only one of many challenges you'll face running a music venue. And Larry acknowledges it wasn't all fun and games.
Larry Schaeffer (18:02):
I figured I was 27 when I got there. A lot of it because I was finding myself overwhelmed by it. It took so much hands on and I was prone to take the easy way out and a bag of cocaine and too much alcohol. And that became the lifestyle down there. It was catching up to me and I was at a point where I was feeling like I couldn't escape from Cain's. And I said, well, you know, here I am, I've been here 25 years, 24 years. I don't, I don't want to be here 24 years from now an old decrepit man who has a heart attack sitting behind this desk. So it was time for me to move on. I always say I was done with Cain's and it was done with me. And, um, I was bankrupt. There was no money left and I just saw it as time to, to leave. And last time I was in, there was probably first day of the year, 2000. Uh, I came in and I gathered a few of my possessions and I'd already transferred ownership out with no financial end of it coming my way, by the way. Simply I simply threw the keys in the street and walked away. And I did exactly that when I left there that Saturday afternoon. I grabbed this and that, put it in my car, locked the door. And I threw my keys up in the air down Main Street and rode off.
Evan Stern (19:24):
Larry struggled to reinvest in the property during his tenure and had a hard time maintaining upkeep, which suffered further following some poor management after his departure. Then in 2002, a savior came in the form of neurosurgeon, Jim Rodgers, who bought the property with his son, Chad, who oversees its operations today.
Chad Rodgers (19:46):
Um, I never would've ever thought I'd be doing what I'm doing, I guess, is to get to where, like what you asked. Um, but when we were both sitting at home, my mom and dad were at their house and I was at my house on a Sunday evening in 2002. And it came on the 10 o'clock news that The Cain's Ballroom was for sale. We both happened to see it and he texted me and he came down. We came down to look at it that Tuesday and he bought it that Thursday. And, um, the funny thing is he grew up in Tulsa. He was born here, but he had never been in Cain's Ballroom till that Tuesday, before he bought it on that Thursday. But when he walked in just like my mom and I and brother could feel, we could see through all the dust and the, it, the place was very rundown. Um, it was, had not been taken care of. It hadn't really been much in business. I mean, they've been doing things here and there, but it wasn't anything like what it is now and, you know, upkeep like, like it deserved to be. And, um, you know, we could see through all that. And I think you could see, I remember my dad saying this is a jewel. It's a, it's, it's, it's a treasure. Like, it'd be horrible if it got into the wrong hands, like we should, we should, we should do this
Evan Stern (21:00):
Talk to any regulars about the old days. And at some point they'll inevitably get around to mentioning the bathrooms, which technical director, Brad Harris can't help but bring up at this point in our conversation. I
Brad Harris (21:11):
I mean, no air conditioning, you know, and the bathrooms were horrible. It was two troughs and a stool for the men's and three stools and a sink for the women's. And it was that way for like 83 years, man, you know, so what Chad said, the dust was thick. You know, the grime was thick.
Chad Rodgers (21:31):
You know, we had to go to like two or three different banks just to get enough money acquire and, and, and talk these people to see the vision that we had, that we could turn this around and that we could be doing 90 to a hundred shows a year, plus private parties and put Cain's back on the map as the true, you know, Carnegie Halls quote, unquote of Western Swing, like people call it and you know, The Home of Bob Wills. Tulsa's Timeless, Honky-Tonk. Those are all slogans that Cain's has always had. And I feel like that more than ever right now, we, we make that proud. I mean, we, we represent that. So
Evan Stern (22:07):
Watching a full house of couples glide across the polished dance floor, which is bathed in soft blue and red lights, I agree that Chad has much to be proud of. And though he tells me he grew up listening to more Bonjovi and journey than Western Swing, this place's history is clearly not lost on him.
Chad Rodgers (22:28):
A couple, couple summers ago. I had a, uh, an older man and woman that were driving Route 66 from California. And they stopped in and they knocked on the front door. And I, I, I came to the box office and they said, do you mind if we come inside and look around, we, we, we we've been here before. We just wanna look around again. So I let 'em inside. And I, uh, I turned the Mirrorball on and I ended up walking out there and they were under the Mirrorball dancing. And as they were leaving, I said, well, when were you here in the past? And they said, we met here back in the forties,
Evan Stern (23:07):
Chad tells me that before renovating the property, he and his father took a trip to my hometown to tour La Zona Rosa, The Backyard and Austin Music Hall for ideas. It's bittersweet to hear him say this, knowing that none of those places remain, but while nothing in life is permanent and know full well how challenging the last few years have been for live performance, I don't think I see Cain's suffering that fate anytime soon. See, I don't think Madison Cain, Larry or the Rodgers family chose this place. I think it chose them. And it's because of their stewardship it remains and trust it will call others in the future.
Larry Schaeffer (23:52):
I am redeemed in some ways to see what Cain's has become to the, to the world. It's not just to Tulsa. Cain's is one of those great old places that are still standing. And so many of 'em are not anymore. And it looks like Cain's is gonna keep standing. Now here's one, here's one thing I realized about Cain's-
Larry Schaeffer (24:13):
All I ever was was the caretaker. All we all, all we are is caretakers for our things. Cain's was there after I, the, after I left Cain's was still there and it was still Cain's. It's doing fine. And the Rodgers family that have done so well by it, they put the money into it. They cleaned it up. It's there to stay and the people that own it now, and I'm very close to them, the Rdogers family, are just caretakers. And I've told that to Jim Rodgers, Jim, you're not gonna own this place forever so stop and remind yourself cause somebody after you is going to own it. And hopefully somebody after them is going on for perpetuity...
