- Date: 1984
- Artist: Sir Douglas Quintet
- Album: Rio Medina
- Place: San Antonio Texas
How Being Early Can Make You Late?
Back in 1984, I found myself heading to San Antonio after wrapping up a session in Nashville, all set to record an album with the Sir Douglas Quintet. The flight to Dallas was uneventful, but naturally, as if the weather gods had it in for me, a snowstorm decided to arrive just in time to cause havoc and major delays. While loitering by the departure board, I spotted an earlier, delayed flight to San Antonio. “Brilliant,” I thought, “I’ll just jump on that and get there ahead of schedule.” In my mind, this was a stroke of genius. I’d surprise my dear friend Augie Meyers, the band’s keyboard player, by arriving early.
The Early Bird Catches A Worm
I landed in San Antonio a good two hours ahead of schedule, feeling quite pleased with myself. I knew Augie wasn’t going to be there yet, so I hailed a taxi. This is where the fun begins.
The driver, who looked like he’d been an extra in Deliverance but without the banjo skills, greeted me with a grin that could curdle milk. He was dressed in something that was probably fashionable in rural Texas in 1973—jeans, battered jacket, and a trucker cap that had seen better days. I showed him my itinerary and asked him to drive me to La Quinta by Wyndham San Antonio Airport.
He had a thick Texas drawl and drove with one hand, the other draped casually over the back of the passenger seat, occasionally turning around to give me what I can only describe as a look akin to Jack Nicholson’s iconic spine-chilling smile in the movie The Shining.
Between his erratic driving and odd grins, he kept glancing up at the planes taking off and landing, all while going on about how much he loved flying. After a particularly intense plane-spotting moment, I naively asked, “Do you fly often, then?” to which he replied, “Oh no, never been on a plane, but I’d love to fly one.” Fantastic. Just what you want to hear from someone responsible for your life, I thought to myself, this guy must be on day release.
Let The Rip Off Begin
After about 40 minutes, we finally rolled up to the hotel. The meter flashed $35, so I generously handed the driver $40. Upon entering, I was met with the alarming revelation that there was no reservation under my name. After I brandished my itinerary like a trophy, the receptionist smiled and explained I was at the wrong La Quinta. Apparently, I needed the one by the airport—exactly where my itinerary, which I had previously shown the driver, had clearly stated.
Fuming, I grabbed my bags and stormed outside, determined to find another cab – only to discover the same driver still lounging in his vehicle. I marched over, waved my itinerary, and informed him he’d taken me to the wrong hotel. He just flashed a grin that suggested he’d won the lottery, switched the meter back on, and off we went again.
We retraced our 40-minute journey, with him prattling on about nonsense while I sat in silence, stewing in frustration.
At last, we arrived at the correct hotel, and he glanced at the meter before declaring, “That’ll be $35.” I protested, insisting he should foot the bill since it was his blunder. Unfazed, he calmly replied, “You’ve got to pay the $35, or I’ll call the police.” I asked to speak to the cab controller, but he insisted that I wasn’t allowed to use the car radio. Reluctantly, I handed over the cash, feeling like I’d just lost a battle I never wanted to fight in the first place.
The Calvary Arrives
Once I was inside, the receptionist checked me in and handed me a note from Augie, who had dashed off to the airport to meet me, blissfully unaware that I’d taken an earlier flight. He asked me to call him as soon as I arrived. So, I rang him from my room, and as I recounted the whole cab fiasco, I could practically hear the steam coming out of his ear. He was furious and made a beeline to my hotel.
After I finished telling him my saga, he asked which cab company I’d used. When I told him, he asked which cab company it was. He quickly looked up the number and called them, Then, with all the finesse of a seasoned diplomat, he spun an elaborate tale about how I was a writer for a major European magazine doing a feature on the marvels of San Antonio, complete with meetings lined up with some of Texas’s biggest financiers—and even the mayor.
Once Augie hung up, I was in the midst of congratulating him on his impressive performance when the phone rang. The receptionist informed me that someone was waiting to see me in the lobby.
Payback Time
As I headed downstairs, I spotted the creepy cab driver standing in the reception area, clutching $75 in his hand like a child clinging to a balloon. He didn’t say a word; instead, he shot me a venomous glare as he begrudgingly extended the cash. I snatched it from his grip and hurried back upstairs, utterly bewildered by this unexpected turn of events.
Breakfast At Epiphanies
A few days later, we were in the studio to record Rio Medina with the Sir Douglas Quintet. Every morning, before heading to the studio, I’d grab breakfast at the hotel restaurant. And wouldn’t you know it? Just a few tables away sat the same cab driver, sipping coffee and staring at me with that same deranged expression. It certainly wasn’t the best way to start the day. When I mentioned it to Augie, he smiled and assured me that the guy was probably just having breakfast there because it was near the cab office. Nevertheless, for the next few days, I opted to have my breakfast somewhere else.
Higher Than The Empire State Building
I knew the recording was going to be a stressful affair. Even though I’d worked with Doug before, this time felt different. We were on his home turf, which meant he was likely to get stoned more than usual—if such a thing was possible.
He also had a talent for showing up late every day. When he finally did arrive, getting him to focus was like trying to herd cats. I’d attempt to kick off the session, but Doug would chime in, “Man, I’m not ready. Let’s talk football. Did anyone catch the Dallas game?”
Doug had an uncanny ability to catch me off guard with his off-the-wall comments. On the first day, after wasting an hour on absolute nonsense, I finally managed to get him into the studio. As he was leaving the control room, he turned to Augie and said, “I think we’ll tackle the hits tomorrow. Let’s work on a couple of your songs today, Augie.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I asked Augie how he managed to put up with it, and he just smiled gently, saying, “That’s Doug, man. That’s just Doug.”
Alcoholics Unanimous
When Doug was on his game, he was absolutely incredible. I remember him playing a few bars of a tune called “San Antonio Boogie.” Sensing his energy might be fleeting, I quickly interrupted him and said, “Let’s record this now.” The take was phenomenal—pure 12-bar boogie, with everyone completely locked in. But just as the track was wrapping up, I realized the multitrack hadn’t been recording. That’s when I caught the engineer sneaking sips of whisky under the desk. It hit me—he had never been a member of Alcoholics Anonymous; he was more like a member of Alcoholics Unanimous.
I told Doug we needed to do it again. He wasn’t too pleased about it, and the second take just didn’t have the same spark. That’s when I discovered Doug had been improvising the lyrics, which he often did. Jack Daniel’s had struck again, claiming yet another musical casualty.
When It Happens, Be Ready
Timing with Doug was always unpredictable. It could strike as a burst of brilliance in the middle of the day or after he’d smoked enough weed to keep the crowd at Woodstock grinning for the whole festival. I remember one night when Doug, barely conscious, announced he wanted to record a version of Santo & Johnny’s “Sleep Walk.” Despite his hazy state, he plopped himself down at his steel guitar and played it flawlessly, as if he were channeling some ethereal muse.
Out At The Ranch
At the time Doug was making the album, he had rented a farm in the middle of nowhere and insisted I join him for an overnight stay. On the way, we stopped at his favorite diner, where we both indulged in his go-to meal: pork chops with mashed potatoes.
When we finally arrived at the farm, Doug hopped out of the car, retrieved a hidden key from under a rock, and unlocked the gate, leaving it wide open, which struck me as a bit peculiar. We then drove down a seemingly endless dirt road before arriving at the place. Though it had a homely charm, it was undeniably a bit run down.
We spent hours talking as Doug puffed on joint after joint, staying up well into the early morning. During our chat, he mentioned that the rest of the band would be dropping by the next day to take some photos for the album.
Ready To Get Shot
The guys finally rolled in late the next morning, and that’s when I realised why Doug had left the gate open—nobody, not even Augie, had a clue where the key to the padlock was hidden. Doug was fuming when he discovered that one of the band members had overslept and wouldn’t make it for the photo session. “Hey, Kenny,” he said, “You can take his place and pretend to be a band member.” I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea, but it seemed easier to say yes than to argue.I was genuinely taken aback when, a bit later, I saw the album cover—and there I was, front and centre.
Louie, Kenny, Augie, Doug & Ernie (All photographs taken by Clay Meyers) A big thanks to Clay for letting me use them for my blog.
One Song Short Of An Album
On the final night, we were, as usual, short one song. Doug was so stoned he could barely stay upright, but somehow he managed to stumble over to the piano. I told the engineer to record whatever unfolded. Doug played a few chords and announced, “This is a song by the late, great Johnny Ace.” What followed was my favorite track on the album, “Anymore.” Doug poured his heart into the performance, showcasing just how incredible he truly was. Unfortunately, during the outro, he only sang the closing line once, so when it came time to mix, I had to loop that single line repeatedly to create a proper fade-out.
Once we wrapped up recording the album, I took it back to Sonet’s Studio 39 in Denmark for mixing. It was another challenging gig completed, but despite all the frustrations, I couldn’t deny Doug’s extraordinary talent. For all his quirks, he was genuinely one of a kind. Sadly, the album never saw a major release in the U.S.What is it they say about a Prophet not being recognised in his own town.
The Broken Spoke
Working with Doug in the studio could be exhausting, but outside those walls, he transformed into a completely different person. I remember meeting up with him in Austin; after dinner at a local diner, we headed to one of our favorite spots, The Broken Spoke.
The Broken Spoke is a bastion of traditional country music. Its classic honky-tonk vibe, complete with red-checkered tablecloths, low ceilings, pool tables, and neon lights, draws in both city dwellers and country folk alike. As one reporter put it, “On the skating rink-like dance floor, cowboys mix with city slickers, and good ol’ gals rub elbows with alternachicks, with plenty of intermingling.” The owner, White, emphasizes that The Broken Spoke is all about providing a great time in a safe, family-friendly environment. “Whether you’re a millionaire or a ditch digger, everyone can have fun at the Spoke,” he says. This isn’t some replica of a classic Texas dance hall—it’s the real deal: the oldest, original, authentic Texas dance hall in the world.
A Missed Opportunity
When we arrived at the venue, we snagged a table and ordered some drinks. It didn’t take long before people started flocking over to Doug, showering him with compliments about the fantastic show he’d put on the night before. Apparently, he, Willie Nelson, and Kris Kristofferson had all jumped on stage for an impromptu performance that lasted for over an hour. Now that would have been a sight to see! But it wasn’t entirely surprising—wherever Doug went, music followed, and legends were always keen to join him for a jam.
Enter: Jerry Wexler, co-head of Atlantic Records
During this period, Texas was brimming with its own vibrant music scene, particularly in Austin, where Doug had returned to his roots. However, he soon found himself drawn to New York when Jerry Wexler, co-head of Atlantic Records, extended an enticing contract. Wexler offered Doug a budget far larger than he was accustomed to, along with the full backing of Atlantic Records. At the outset of the project, Wexler went to great lengths to keep Doug content and inspired.
Bob Dylan had been friends with Doug since the mid-sixties, a friendship forged in the fires of the vibrant music scene of that era. In 1972, Dylan came on board for the recording sessions of Doug’s first solo album, Doug Sahm and Band. The atmosphere in the studio was electric as Dylan, a living legend, brought his unmistakable charisma and musical prowess to the mix. He played guitar, harmonica, and organ, effortlessly shifting between instruments as if each one were an extension of himself. To top it all off, he even lent his distinctive vocals to the tracks, adding a rich layer of depth and authenticity to Doug’s sound.
Bob Dylan Joins the Recording
This opportunity allowed Doug to collaborate with an exceptional session band. Alongside his Sir Douglas Quintet regulars, Augie Meyers and Martin Fierro, he was joined by a stellar cast that included saxophonist David “Fathead” Newman, accordionist Flaco Jimenez, guitarist David Bromberg, and the legendary Dr. John on keyboards. It was an impressive lineup, but it was Dylan’s involvement in the project that inevitably stole the spotlight.
At that time, Dylan was somewhat reclusive, caught in a transitional phase between record labels, and had not released any new music since his 1970 album New Morning—a considerable hiatus by the standards of the day. His contributions to several tracks and his songwriting prowess on “Wallflower” quickly became the album’s main draw. However, apart from “Wallflower,” where his influence was unmistakable, Dylan largely faded into the background, content to blend in with the ensemble and simply enjoy being part of the band.
Dude, Where’s My Car?
According to Augie, several band members had Cadillacs rented for them by Atlantic while they were in New York. Wexler even went so far as to arrange for one of Doug’s musician friends, who was serving time in prison, to make a guest appearance on the album.
However, by the time the album was wrapped up, Doug’s usual shenanigans had taken their toll. Wexler reportedly exclaimed, “NEVER EVER AGAIN.” About three weeks after Doug and Augie returned to Austin, Atlantic’s accounts department called Augie, inquiring why Doug hadn’t returned his rental car. Concerned, Augie immediately reached out to Doug to figure out what had happened. True to form, Doug replied nonchalantly, “Hell, man, I don’t know. Dylan and I got stoned, went to a club in New York, I parked the car, and we took a cab. So, man, I have no idea where it is now.” Unsurprisingly, the car was never recovered, and an additional $25,000 was charged to the band’s account with Atlantic Records.
While the album didn’t make much of a splash at the time, it has since become a cult classic. It’s likely that Wexler chose not to promote it due to his challenging experience working with Doug—a lesson I would learn firsthand a few years later.
Various blog videos below.
https://www.youtube.com/user/denton115/videos
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Douglas_Quintet
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