This was Mid-September 1980. I was the Mississippi State beat writer for The Clarion-Ledger. Emory Bellard's second State team was playing Vanderbilt in Nashville (Dogs won 24-14). I met Chris Etheridge, the great bass guitar player (and human being) from Meridian, who played with Waylon and Willie and the boys, and a whole lot more bands including The Flying Burrito Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, John Prine, Ry Cooder, Bill Withers and, well, you get the idea. Chris, a Hall of Fame bass player, somehow was in the press box and we struck up a conversation. He asked me what I was doing after the game and I said I wanted to hear some music. He said, "Well, you need to come with me." We first went to the Exit Inn where Bonnie Raitt was playing and singing the **** out of her great songs (we sat with Jimmy Buffett, by the way.) After we closed them down, Chris said a friend of his was having a late night party. The friend was Waylon Jennings. So, off we go to Waylon's mansion, arriving about 3 a.m. We were feeling no pain. Nobody at Waylon's house was, either. Waylon, alas, had gone to bed a few minutes earlier. We hung around for a drink or two and then Chris shuttled me back to that Holiday Inn that was right next to the football stadium. Pretty sure it's not a Holiday Inn now. My good buddy, the late Orley Hood, knocked on my door at 7 a.m. Sunday, ready to be driven back to Jackson in my car. Ha! He drove, I slept. Chris and I remained friends until he died of cancer far too young in 2012. He loved Jack Cristil and the Bulldogs more than he loved his guitar, I do believe. He told me the two most distinct voices he ever heard in his entire life were Willie Nelson's and Jack Cristil's. They'd be in my top three or four as well. Waylon was right in there, too.
Anyway, that was a good night.
