Front Porch Ramblings                                                                                                                by Stan Hitchcock

“Curly Chalker, the best dang steel guitar player that ever slid a bar across strings….”

Early one morning, in 1998, one of my musician friends called me and told me that one of my old compadres had just died, namely Curly Chalker; the best dang steel guitar player to ever slide a bar across strings, and asked me if I would come and sing at the funeral. Many years ago, around 1970, I recorded a song called “The Shadow Of Your Smile”; an old pop standard with one of the prettiest melodies I have ever heard. The reason I recorded it was so that I could feature Curly playing the steel guitar turnaround, no small feat for a country steel guitar player; but Curly wasn’t just any steel player--he was Curly Chalker, the best.

Curly had a long history in Country Music, touring with Lefty Frizzell and playing on some of Lefty’s early hits, playing on Hank Thompson’s “Wild Side Of Life” recording, being part of the ABC TV “Ozark Jubilee” Red Foley Show and many other historic music events.  A true hero of musicianship.

I first met Curly in the late sixties when he moved to Nashville from Las Vegas where he had a legendary show band in which other musicians would just come to watch in amazement as they played everything from western swing to far out Jazz, and all the in-between.

Curly came to Nashville to get into session work, but the producers in power were so intimidated by his talent, and his no-bullcrap attitude, that they sometimes froze him out of the sessions. My bass player, Buck Evans, would go down to Printer’s Alley in Nashville and play with Curly as part of the Curly Chalker Trio when we weren’t on The Road. Curly had put together the trio, which consisted of Curly, Buck, and Jimmy Stuart on drums. I would come by the club to listen and Curly got to asking me to get up and sit in on vocals. Then one night, he wondered if I knew the song, “The Shadow Of Your Smile”. When I said no, he asked me to learn the song so we could do it on stage. Well, I learned the song and the first night we tried it on stage in the Alley at the Black Poodle, he went into the jazz-swing turnaround and just played his ever-lovin’ butt off: I was hooked. A couple of years later when I was putting the material together for a new album, I decided to bring in Curly and feature him on that song. Tommy Allsup was my producer and he was a man who understood music and musicians and who loved Curly’s playing also. Well, in the studio that day we had cut a couple of good songs and I felt about in the mood, so I sent most of the extra musicians out of the studio for a break but kept Jimmy Capps on gut-string guitar, Bob Moore on the acoustic bass, Buddy Harman using brushes on the snare and a mixed quartet of background voices, and brought Curly in. We dimmed the lights real low; Curly touched those strings with his magic hands and we started the song. I sang a verse and a chorus and then very quietly said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present my very good friend, Mr. Curly Chalker.” What followed was a special moment in our country music: Curly played a classic turnaround that about every steel guitar player since who has ever heard it still just shakes their head in wonder.

The “Shadow Of Your Smile” record came out in an album and the label picked the song for the backside of a single, with “At Least Part Of The Way” the A Side, but the song was there - and in the areas where it got play - it was a smash . . . all because of the steel part. We had one problem however; none of the other musicians in my road band could play it, so I only got to perform it on The Road, once . . . I was booked for a concert at a big, new show club in St. Louis, Missouri in 1970 when “The Shadow Of Your Smile” reached number one on St Louis WIL Radio: the top country station in that whole region. Well, I was sweating it ‘cause I knew folks would be wanting to hear the song and I knew we couldn’t play it without Curly.

The St Louis showroom was packed, and we had set up on the front part of the stage, in front of the curtain; Buck said that is how the promoter wanted it. I was sorta skeptical about this set-up; shoot, who every heard of setting up in front of the curtain? Oh well, mine is not to reason why, let’s just do it.    We were introduced and came out to a great welcome from the crowd. We launched into our first song and the show was on. We did about three songs without stopping and then we cooled down and I started talking to the crowd, just as they started hollering for the “The Shadow Of Your Smile”. I was just getting into the explanation about how it was impossible to play our song  they wanted to hear. . . when from behind the curtain came the sweetest sound; the steel guitar intro to the song. The curtain parted and there sat Curly behind that old guitar, grinning from ear to ear. We did the song three times before the crowd would let us stop. . . it was a great moment. Buck had told Curly about our problem and he had flown in to do the show with us . . . just ‘cause he wanted to. It is my fond memory of Curly, and one I will always cherish. Great music makes great friends. 

At the funeral I stood off to a room at the side, facing Curly’s casket, and sang ”The Shadow of Your Smile” for Curly the last time. I looked out across the crowd of pickers and was taken back to those special times when the music was all that mattered; when we were all young and the fire was still in our bellies . . . and Curly Chalker was the best dang steel guitar player that ever slid a bar across a string.

Every time it happens, when that call comes that another friend, compadre, fellow traveler, pardner, sweetheart, lover or just a “many others” has been lost, it diminishes the well that you thought would never run dry . . . that gushing spring of talent that was part of our youth . . . heck, these folks can’t die, they’re immortal, bigger than life . . . it was on their backs that this business of country music was built; their creative sweat oiled the gears that ran the machinery that fed the world the constant stream of material called entertainment, in whatever form. These are the folks that I stayed up with for days and nights, in recording studios, all night country radio shows, in dingy hotel rooms after the shows, pickin’, roaring, laughing, caring, joking, listening and doing whatever it took to get another day under our belts and another mile down The Road that was supposed to go on forever.

The Heroes may have gone but the music plays on.  In my memories that never die.  Just like an old pair of boots that are worn and run over at the heel, but they fit your old foot just right.

Stan

(The Shadow Of Your Smile-Stan Hitchcock/Curly Chalker 1970)