Outlaw Country

Willie Nelson is 80 years old and lives in Maui.

The iconic “outlaw country” music star of the 70s and 80s is on the road again.  I know this because he’s been in my neighborhood this week.  I didn’t see him in concert here at Carmel’s Sunset Center – just felt like too much money, $120 a ticket, and the audience of rich retirees would not be as raunchy and sad sweet as Willie.  My husband, also born in 1933 (my husband and Willie Nelson are the same age?!) didn’t see him the next day at the Greek Theater on the UC Berkeley campus, where he spent the weekend.  But our daughter and her boyfriend did see Willie earlier this week at UC Davis.

Talk about reinventing yourself.  Willie’s on the road again, but this time in busses fueled with bio diesel.  When he’s not at his off the grid solar-powered compound in Maui, he promotes his “Bio-Willie” fuel at truck stops and in his book (Willie wrote a book!) “On the Clean Road Again.”

“Clean” as in fuel.  Willie’s never been clean as in polished or nice or even sober.  He’s been an active advocate of the legalization of marijuana for years, co-President of NORML (National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws.)  His other recent book (Willie the author!) is called “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die.” There’s a great YouTube video  of him performing that song at a big smoky NORML concert and he introduces it with “I’ve got a new gospel tune for you.”

Willlie’s not “clean “ in the music sense either.  “Outlaw Country” is a music genre he practically invented, along with Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings, to challenge the polished, formulaic and conservative Nashville sound and lyrics.  Willie is scruffy and rebellious.  He’s been busted a few times for dope.  And he got a $32 million bill from the IRS tax folks a few years ago.  You’re supposed to pay taxes, Willie.  Turns out he had bad accountants, but he bought aggressive lawyers, made a best selling double album, “The IRS Tapes: Who’ll Buy My Memories,” that paid them back, and is now well, on the road again.

He’s doing a fundraising concert later this month for Texas outlaw-type gubernatorial candidate Wendy Davis, the pro-choice single mother state representative who filibustered the legislature for 12 hours last year to stop an anti-abortion law (later enacted on a technicality.)  She said, “I love listening to Willie Nelson.  There’s something about his voice that pulls at your emotions.  He’s certainly seen his fair share of troubles, but he just keeps rolling.”  Willie’s been an advocate for marriage equality, anti-war, he started the FarmAid concerts.  We’ll see how much his name helps Davis in her David vs Goliath campaign against the Rick Perry “old boys” of the Lone Star State.

I’m not a huge county music fan, but it’s hard not to like On the Road Again, You Were Always on My Mind, Crazy (which he wrote as a young man, better known as Patsy Cline’s song), Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys. 

Willie did a great self-parody of “Mammas, Don’t Let….” as a public service announcement for the Texas Department of Transportation.  It was part of a campaign called “Don’t Mess With Texas.”  Which was not about gun rights or anti-immigration laws or anything you would associate with red-necked Texas.

It was an anti-littering ad campaign.  20 years ago, Texas realized it was spending over $20 million a year cleaning up highway litter, and studies showed it was mostly pickup truck driving young men who were to blame.  Over the protests of nice garden club ladies who wanted something more polite, the ad agency came up with “Don’t Mess with Texas” and enlisted all kinds of bad boys and girls to promote it.  (A focus group tried to have them add “please” at the end of the phrase.)

Willie’s spot was the most popular, won awards for best ad of the year. Sitting in the middle of a highway, strumming his guitar, he sings:

Mammas, tell all your babies, don’t mess with Texas.
Don’t let em throw cans from those old pickup trucks,
Don’t let em throw bottles and papers and stuff.
Mammas, tell all your babies don’t mess with Texas,
Keep your trash off the road,
She’s a fine yellow rose,
Treat Texas like someone you love.

Every ad maker dreams that their slogan will outlive the product.   “Don’t Mess With Texas” has become a macho, secessionist battle cry that’s the opposite of what Willie and Waylon and Wendy want for the Lone Star State.  Keep on truckin’ Willie.

My daughter said Willie was great in concert, and the reviews are good too.  He plays with his two sons, from his fourth marriage, they are in their 20’s.  She said she teared up twice – once when Willie sang a duet with his sons about death, and once when Willie sang Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.

Willie spent time signing autographs after the concert and Norah got one, on the only piece of paper she had with her, a study guide to the Great Depression, for her graduate courses in how to teach high school American History.  I said she should get Willie to come to her high school class and talk about the last 80 years of American history, from his birth to poor laborers in Texas during that same Depression up to his biofuel work today in Maui and on the road.

That’s a real American.  Don’t mess with Willie.

Copyright © 2014 Deborah Streeter