“Kinky Friedman. The Lone Star New York” Dies In Texas.
- Place – The Lone Star Cafe – New York
- Time – 1984
- Artist – Kinky Friedman & The Texas Jew Boys
Kinky Friedman is a Texas country singer, novelist, songwriter, humorist, and politician.
“I support gay marriage because I believe they have right to be just as miserable as the rest of us.”
Kinky Friedman, the Texas folk hero known for his flamboyant career as a singer-songwriter, satirist, raconteur, and one-time gubernatorial candidate in 2006—during which he humorously claimed to be “pro-football” rather than pro-life or pro-choice—died on June 26 2024 at Echo Hill, his ranch near Medina, Texas. He was 79.
A Trip to The Lone Star
In the early 80s and whilst on a trip to New York I read a review about a bar in town called The Lone Star Cafe.
It seems that The Lone Star was a haven for Texas-style bad behaviour in New York City.
It was a raucous, often-overcrowded place with free-flowing tequila, a pretty good barbecue and boasted a roster of great performers such as Willie Nelson and Roy Orbison.
This sounded like an irresistible evening.
On arriving at The Lone Star, the outside of the building looked somewhat out of place in this swanky part of town.
The roof was decorated with a huge forty-foot statue of an iguana and a sign below that read, “Too Much Ain’t Enough.”
The inside was much smaller than I expected. The bar area was crowded so I made my way upstairs where there were some tables behind a circular balcony, this overlooked the undersized step-on stage below.
Appearing that night was Kinky Friedman & The Texas Jew boys.
I found myself a good table almost overlooking the stage and whilst waiting for Kinky to arrive I ordered a beer and some food.
A Rude Interruption
On the next table was a young couple. I could hear the young man continuously raving to his lady friend about Kinky Friedman and what a great show we were about to see, he sounded like he was Kinky’s biggest fan.
This continued until Kinky and his band arrived on stage.
Having finished my meal, with my arms crossed leaning on the balcony, I had a perfect view as the band stepped on stage to a rapturous welcome.
They forged into their first number They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore.
At the end of the first number, as the applause was dying down, Kinky lit a huge cigar and proceeded to insult various members of the audience, which seemed to go down very well with everyone except the people he was offending.
This monologue was only broken every minute or so by Kinky taking a big puff on his cigar and telling everyone if they wanted to see a great show come to 53rd and 3rd the following Friday.
After about ten minutes and for the umpteen time of Kinky telling everyone if they wanted to see a great show, he would be appearing at 53rd and 3rd on the following Friday, the young man on the next table lunged out of the dark and shouted,
”How about a fucking show tonight?” And disappeared back into the darkness as quick as he had appeared.
Left Holding The Baby
I was still in my crossed arms position leaning on the balcony when Kinky looked in my direction, our eyes met with laser precision.
At this point he proceeded to take off his guitar and still looking straight at me said,
“Someone up there don’t like me.”
Now everyone in the place was focused on me.
At this point a voice from downstairs in the audience shouted,
“I don’t like you either Kinky.”
The place erupted but within seconds the same guy screamed out,
“Cause Kinky I love ya!”
The crowd went crazy.
By now a massive bouncer had joined Kinky on the stage, they were both chatting and looking up at me, he was still refusing to continue with the show.
I now noticed the couple on the next table seemed to have left a little earlier than they had planned.
There was no way to make it known that the real rebel amongst us had, in true Elvis tradition, left the building.
Time To Head Home
Sensing there was definitely some unrest in the atmosphere, I decided to retire into the darkness and look for the nearest way out.
I asked the waiter for the bill and beat a hasty retreat through the upstairs exit.
Lucky enough there was a yellow cab outside dropping someone off; I was in that cab faster than a rattlesnake’s strike.
Whilst heading back to the hotel I felt a little disappointed with the evening.
Although The Lone Star had really lived up to its review, “Good barbecue food, bad behaviour, raucous and crowded, plenty of free-flowing tequila” and of course, the music – thanks Kinky Friedman.
I assume the slogan outside “Too Much Ain’t Enough” only applied to Texans.
I had definitely had enough of good old Texas hospitality for one evening.
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