Chicken Ranch report no. 18

During my trip to La Grange two weekends back, I met with local historian Gary McKee, who showed me something I'd never seen before: A 1970s-era pressing of a vinyl 45 single by a band called Man Mountain and the Green Slime Boys. Apparently they were a popular local draw at the Armadillo World Headquarters back in the day. Popular enough, it seems, for the 'Dillo to cut a live single of theirs, titled "The Ballad of the La Grange Chicken Ranch." McKee was kind enough to loan me his rare copy in my never-ending quest to uncover all things Chicken Ranch.

I have to say, there's very little "ballad" to the music. It's a kind of rockabilly-cum-bluegrass confection that's catchy, energetic and entertaining, but lacks that narrative story arc that makes ballads what they are. Man Mountain and the Green Slime Boys seem to have dropped off the face of the planet, without even a wikipedia article to their name, so I can't even ask for permission to use the song in some form. Ah well, it's enough to know it exists. And speaking of songs that exist, this might come as a shock to those who think ZZ Top cornered the market on Chicken Ranch songs, but in addition to Man Mountain's riveting piece, I also discovered a fellow by the name of Gaylen Ackley also recorded a Chicken Ranch song in the 70s, this one titled "Hello Marvin Zindler." Ackley didn't have nearly as prestigious record company as the 'Dillo backing him, and instead went with Dream Land Records out of the booming metropolis of Industry, Texas. Ackley's voice is solid, but the arrangement on the single is merely demo-quality, with a synth piano and what sounds like a drum machine. I can't help but think some Americana recording artist with a healthy appreciation for Outlaw Country could make this into a popular album cut or live show staple by taking it full-on honky tonk, loading it up with weepy steel guitar and maybe a Bob Wills fiddle or two. I'd love to hear a remake, seriously.

As for the book, progress continues. I'm in the middle of chapter 10, in which Significant Things Happen, and we are introduced to everyone's favorite toupee-wearing media consumer advocate from Houston. Here's a small taste of what I've written today:

As rough as 1971 treated Miss Edna and the Chicken Ranch, over in Houston, a flamboyant, 49-year-old deputy with the Harris County Sheriff’s Department by the name of Marvin Zindler was having a banner year. Zindler, a publicity-craving dynamo who’d risen to the rank of sergeant in the public relations branch after previous stops in the civil, vice and fugitive divisions, convinced Sheriff Buster Kerns and the district attorney to allow him to set up a new consumer affairs division within the department. Zindler--dragging his partner, Deputy E.L. Adams, along for the ride--set up shop in a tiny office with the goal of investigating the claims of ripped-off consumers previously dismissed by the police as civil matters. The Spartan office had one distinctly personal touch from Zindler that set the tone for his daily endeavors--on the wall he hung a sign inscribed with, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil. For I am the meanest S.O.B. in the valley.”

“I used to see dozens of people come up to the sheriff’s department for help because they’d been cheated,” Zindler explained. “But because they were cheated by business instead of robbed with a gun everybody always told them there was nothing that could be done. They were told it was a civil case and they’d have to sue. Hell, you could look at those people and know they didn’t have the money to sue anybody.”

Now Playing: Man Mountain and the Green Slime Boys The Ballad of the La Grange Chicken Ranch
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