Dedicated to Jerry Lynn Williams  1948-2005

Jerry Lynn Williams, the songwriter/vocalist extraordinaire, and I were friends as teenagers, and as young musicians we played together a lot in 1964 and 1965. We were both lead guitarists, but unlike me, Jerry was an exceptional singer, and he became one of the music industry’s most prolific and successful songwriters. His death on November 25, 2005 and Bill Bentley’s article in the Austin Chronicle brought to mind some interesting moments Jerry and I shared as young musicians in Ft. Worth, Texas.

Jerry was a very interesting character with a blend of contrasting qualities. He was blunt and forceful, yet warmhearted and sensitive; close and personal, yet distant; highly talented, clever and demanding, yet smooth as glass; wild and crazy, yet graceful and in control. He was a free-spirited, independent and extremely confident artist with a captivating personality, but he was also a loner with an insatiable desire to connect with people. 

I realized what a great singer he was the first time we got together with some fellow teenage musicians to form a band. We were trying to work out different parts on ‘So Fine,’ an old R&B hit with four-part harmonies. Jerry looked dissatisfied with what the rest of us were singing, and he wasn’t singing much, just humming to himself... and smirking. As the rest of us struggled to stay on key, he backed away from the microphone and sat down.

“What part do you want?” I asked him.

“You guys figure out your parts,” he said. “I’ll cover what’s left.”

I thought that was a rather cocky comment, and Jerry could be cocky, but he knew what he was doing. When the three of us finally got our ragged voices to produce a tolerable semblance of three-part harmony, I turned to Jerry again and said, “Want to join in?”

He nodded and stepped back up to the microphone. We started the song over and started singing. Then Jerry dove in. Suddenly there was this beautiful and soulful voice singing an octave above us, breathing instant life into the song, crystallizing our harmonies and encouraging us to sing much more powerfully. Even at sixteen Jerry could wail on the guitar and sing with more passion and conviction than most of the hit-makers of the day. His amazingly high and clear voice always turned heads and consistently sent chills up my spine. And he didn’t sing in falsetto. He sang in his natural range.

Jerry and I often found ourselves in The Celler, a beatnik/early-hippie hangout in Ft. Worth, Texas. We were too young to even be in there, but many times Jerry would hop on stage, sit in with the mid-30’s musicians, and blow audiences away with his powerful voice and potent guitar riffs. On late night excursions through Ft. Worth we would pass a bottle and talk about music and life. I could see then how much passion and determination he had to become a successful musician and share his soul with the world. And did he ever!

One night during the summer of 1966, while I was on break from college, I went to hear Jerry play at a club on Race Street in Ft. Worth. His voice had become even more soulful, and his guitar playing was tasty and inventive, as always. I sat in with him on a few songs, and during a break he said he had something important to discuss with me, something he couldn’t talk about at the moment. He aroused my curiosity, so we agreed to meet at a restaurant a few days later.

“I need to make some changes,” he said as the waiter left us our orders. “It’s not the band I what, and it can’t go anywhere.”

We both dove in our high-cholesterol burgers and greasy fries.

“You sounded pretty damn good to me,” I said. “Especially with your voice.” 

“I want to make a move. Quit college and go to California with me. We work together well. Besides, California's the place to be. Let’s do it, man.”

I thought it over for a moment. “I’d love to go with you, but I’m 1-A if I don't I go back to college. No college deferment means I get shipped off to Vietnam. So... shit. I gotta pass. How are avoiding the draft?”

“Little medical thing.” He took a few bites, then stopped in mid-chew. “Gary, does your dad still have that old 22 rifle?”

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with this?”

He swallowed, then in a controlled voice he calmly said, “Simple. Take it out this weekend and shoot yourself in the toe.” Jerry made such a bizarre act sound as if it were equivalent to tuning a high E string or drinking a coke.

I gagged on my cheeseburger. “What! Are you nuts?” Jerry’s expression revealed he was dead serious. “Ahhh, not sure I want to go that far, Jerry, but thanks for the suggestion.”

“I would if I had to.” He held an imaginary rifle in his hands and pointed at his foot. “WHAM! It’s just one little toe. Problem solved.”

“Ahhhh.... I like having all ten,” I replied. No doubt, Jerry would blast a toe off, even a few toes, if he had to in order to avoid soldierhood and proceed with his musical career.

Chewing away, he thought for another moment. A bolt of inspiration must have him like lightening because he suddenly swallowed a mouthful and started running down his next barrage of ideas as if he were calling the Fire Department to report several blocks of houses ablaze! 

“I got it. Go do something weird and get arrested, then beg your folks to send you to a psychiatrist. When you visit him start throwing stuff at him, or rolling around on the floor and screaming… or try to have sex with him, hunch him, anything to convince him you’re crazy or a homo or something. That’ll keep you out!” With that, Jerry gleamed with pride and downed a few fries.

“Wow! Man, is that a stretch... but I couldn’t pull it off. I’m not crazy. At least not yet, but your suggestions might nudge me in that direction.”

“I hope so. Fuck! I understand. You gotta decide. It’s your life.”

“As well as my toe, my criminal record, and my mental history.”

“See, three easy ways out. Anyway, I’m going for it. Think it over. If you change your mind, let me know. We can get connected out there. I promise.”

I thought his offer over for weeks. He was an indeed an immensely talented musician and singer with enormous drive, and I knew he could make his way through any doors to get connected. But I was in perfect health and, short of following Jerry's suggestions, I had no way to avoid the draft other than to return to college. So I called him back and wished him luck. Soon Jerry was on his way, and the rest is history. He got connected with the top people in the music industry at an early age, played with many of the world’s greatest musicians, and became an immensely successful songwriter.

Decades later I looked back and wondered if one less toe would have really mattered that much. Or having a record, criminal or psychiatric. Besides, had I gone to California with Jerry I might have become a successful nine-toed sideman. We saw each other a few times during the 70’s when he was battling with Warner Brothers, and a few times when I lived in Europe in the 90’s. When Jerry left us in November of 2005 the world lost a great musician, songwriter and singer, and a very unique man. But his music will live on forever, and we will always miss this fascinating, creative, complicated and loveable human being.