Stevie Ray Vaughan and Muddy Waters backstage at Nick’s Upstairs. Photo by Kirby Warnock.
Stevie Ray Vaughan and I started out on similar paths.
We were born one month apart in Methodist Hospital and hailed from similar blue-collar neighborhoods. We started grammar school at the same time in adjoining districts and probably started playing guitar at about the same age.
I like believing that Stevie Ray Vaughan and I had a lot in common. It feels like we do, as we both experienced childhood and adolescence in the beautiful, historic, sometimes gritty neighborhood of Oak Cliff in the ’60s and early ’70s.
Unfortunately, the similarities didn’t include our musical ability.
Even though I lived only a mile or so from him, I never knew Stevie.
At the time, Oak Cliff had dozens of garage-band guitar players who hoped blues and rock would be our ticket to fame. I had some friends and bandmates who crossed paths with Stevie, including one who auditioned him but decided he “wasn’t the right fit” for the band my friend was forming.
Dallas has now embraced the Vaughan brothers’ legacy by erecting the memorial “We Are Music and Music is Us” at Kiest Park. Going there, or driving past the Vaughan Estate when I visit Laurel Land, I wonder if I ever unknowingly crossed paths with Stevie Ray Vaughan growing up.
There are some places where it could have happened.
In the 1960s, the pool at Weiss Park was a mecca for pre-teen and teenage kids in the summer. Radio music by popular bands like the Beach Boys blared on the tinny PA system.
Few people had access to a private swimming pool in Oak Cliff, and due to the pool’s popularity I suspect Stevie Ray may have been there in the same water with the same multitudes of kids, passing the summer days by listening to the latest pop tunes.
A favorite place of mine was Watkins Music Store at the corner of Jefferson and Tyler. I spent hours at Watkins admiring Gibson guitars and Fender amplifiers and browsing the store’s large collection of sheet music.
I often tried to memorize the chords to songs by Jimi Hendrix and Cream. This was decades before the Internet and free online guitar lessons, and the books were expensive.
It’s amazing to think that while I was hanging out at Watkins, there was a kid in Oak Cliff who would one day record his own soaring version of Hendrix’s “Little Wing” and share stages with Eric Clapton.
I’ll bet Stevie Ray, for all his love of music, also spent some time at Watkins.
Jaylee Record Store, just down the street, was a “head shop” patronized by the hippies and flower children of Dallas. The shop had a heavy aroma of incense and sold posters of the guitar heroes of the day.
Local groups often played in the store on Friday and Saturday nights, and I saw some talented guitarists there. The musicians seemed edgier and better than any members of the local bands I knew.
For all I know, Stevie Ray Vaughan was one of them.
The Oak Cliff YMCA was near Adamson High School, where musicians Michael Martin Murphy and Ray Wiley Hubbard attended, and was another live music hot spot.
In the summer, the YMCA hosted Friday afternoon sock-hops and was a second home for many kids like me.
I particularly remember an unknown but talented band who were around my age playing “Jumping Jack Flash” with huge, red Kustom-brand amplifiers.
I wonder if Stevie Ray Vaughan could have been a part of that band, or another one that played at the YMCA.
Some things have changed since Stevie Ray Vaughan and I were kids, but many things haven’t. Oak Cliff is still one of the most beautiful parts of Dallas and a great place to be a kid.
Story by Joe Stout
