Country Music Blog: Riders in the Sky

The first time I Googled "Coachella Festival," I was surprised to see we would be playing alongside Portishead. Only later did I realize we were playing the "Country Coachella," better known as Stagecoach Festival in Indio, Calif. And to be honest, I was happier because it meant I would get to see The Judds. This may surprise some of you, but as a kid, my brother and I would listen to those records every weekend. Looking at the line-up, everything else was secondary -- Earl Scruggs, Sam Bush, Riders in the Sky. Had any of them recorded "Grandpa"? Or "River Of Time"? I don't think so...

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War in Iraq. Corporations pay millions to fired CEOs, then lay off hundreds of workers to pay for it. Children are hurt by cheaply manufactured goods from China. It’s easy to read the news and get discouraged about the fate of humanity, especially if you look back at the “good ol’ days” when times were simpler. For many, silver-screen cowboy Gene Autry represents that nobler era. He always wore a white hat; he owned a major-league team in baseball, a sport so all-American it’s been called the national pastime; and he lived by the Cowboy Code of ethics.

Autry, best-remembered musically for the Western classic, “Back In The Saddle Again,” was always a good guy on screen, and mostly one off-screen, too, though he had his flaws, including a tendency toward too much alcohol and an apparent series of affairs. A member of the Country Music Hall of Fame, his heroism was strong enough that Toby Keith name-checked him in “Should’ve Been a Cowboy.” This Saturday (Sept. 29) marks the centennial of his birth, which will be celebrated with a Riders in the Sky concert in Gene Autry, Okla., and has already been recognized with the release of Holly George-Warren’s excellent biography, Public Cowboy No. 1: The Life and Times of Gene Autry.

World War II, conducted at the height of Autry’s popularity, was worse than anything we’ve seen this decade. His public battle with Republic Pictures chief Herb Yates shows that businessmen putting profits over people is nothing new. And a public relations catastrophe in which children were burned by flammable playsuits marketed with Autry’s name demonstrates that defective products have left scars before. While you can’t help but like Autry after reading Public Cowboy No. 1, it also leads to some rhetorical questions. Did the world really used to be a better place? Or do we simply get exposed to more of it now that we have instant news 24/7? It’s hard to know the answer, but it’s comforting to see that Autry navigated it, despite his flaws, in a way that suggests nice guys don’t really have to finish last.

It wasn't too long ago that country performers routinely incorporated a title with their name, the idea being that such an addition gave them a little extra boost in stature and individuality. Thus, Roy Acuff was the King of Country Music, Kitty Wells the Queen and Tammy Wynette the First Lady. The practice went a long way back. Jimmie Rodgers billed himself as the Singing Brakeman (and later bore the title of Father of Country Music). Grand Ole Opry patriarch Uncle Dave Macon was known as the Dixie Dewdrop. Eddy Arnold gained fame as the Tennessee Plowboy (but gradually eased away from that designation as he sought a broader, more urbane audience). Tennessee Ernie Ford styled himself as the Old Pea Picker, and Ernest Tubb labored as the Texas Troubadour. Patti Page was the Singing Rage.

Sometimes these titles were conferred on performers by their admirers and sometimes by their paid promoters. But whatever its origin, the value of a title lay in whether or not it stuck and eventually became synonymous with the performer's name.

Before there was a Gary LeVox, Vern Gosdin was the Voice. Roy Rogers was King of the Cowboys, Bill Monroe the Father of Bluegrass, Hank Snow the Singing Ranger, Johnny Cash the Man in Black and Tom T. Hall the Storyteller. Generously proportioned Kenny Price of Hee Haw went to his grave as the Round Mound of Sound. Ranger Doug Green of Riders in the Sky continues to call himself (albeit puckishly) the Idol of American Youth.

So here's what I'd like to know: What do you think would be fitting honorifics for the likes of Garth Brooks, Vince Gill, Alan Jackson, Reba McEntire, Martina McBride, Kenny Chesney, Keith Urban, Tim McGraw, Faith Hill (separately or in tandem), Josh Turner, Carrie Underwood, Brad Paisley, Miranda Lambert or any other act of your choosing? Here's your chance to influence country music history. The floor is yours.

Every country singer who wears a cowboy hat ought to tip it now and then to the memory of Gene Autry. Sept. 29 is the centennial of Autry's birth in Tioga, Texas. While his greatest fame came from the Western movies he made -- starting in 1934 with In Old Santa Fe and continuing through his 1950-56 TV series -- he was initially a country singer and would remain one throughout his long recording career.

Autry emerged musically around the time that high-powered radio stations were beginning to attract millions of listeners with their weekly "barn dances," all of which featured live musical talent. Because much of the talent and many of the fans were from rural backgrounds, the singers and musicians often dressed up as "hillbillies" for their performances and publicity pictures, with bib overalls, grotesquely patched trousers and shirts, battered felt and straw hats, suspenders, gingham dresses and the occasional corncob pipe.

But there was none of this demeaning tomfoolery for Gene Autry. Although he was not the first country singer to sport Western wear (Jimmie Rodgers sometimes did), Autry was already cultivating a neatly pressed cowboy persona when he joined the National Barn Dance on Chicago station WLS in the early 1930s. There he deftly marketed that persona by promoting his personalized songbooks, records and Gene Autry Roundup Guitars. The movies, of course, subsequently burned his wholesome, Stetson-topped image even more deeply into the American consciousness. It's still there in the looks of such troubadours as George Strait, Alan Jackson, Kix Brooks, Brad Paisley, Garth Brooks, Clint Black and, most sincerely and soulfully, Riders in the Sky (who have re-released their Public Cowboy # 1 album, now subtitled A Centennial Salute to the Music of Gene Autry).

Want to talk cowboy classics? Autry had a bundle of them: "The Last Roundup," "Tumbling Tumbleweeds," "South of the Border," "Back in the Saddle Again" and "Don't Fence Me In." Much of his best work, though, was straight-ahead country fare, songs like "That Silver-Haired Daddy of Mine," "I'm Thinking Tonight of My Blue Eyes," "I Hang My Head and Cry," "At Mail Call Today" and "Someday You'll Want Me to Want You." Still, his key to cultural immortality may turn out to be those infectiously crooned tales about Peter Cottontail, Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The man knew how to build a brand.

Gene Autry cantered into the sunset on October 2, 1998, leaving a life well lived and a job well done.