CHAPTER 8
"What's Happening" -
Duane & Rosemary

     On the way home from Vegas, Duane and I had an unfortunate accident. We were robbed of all of our Boogie Kings tuxes, and all of my other clothes, also.  We were very road weary, and we had decided to stop at my girlfriend Jessica's apartment and rest up for a couple of days.  Jessica was happy to see us again.  She was more than happy to have us stay with her for a couple of days.  When we went to the car to get our clothes, there was nothing there but a clothes rod.  We felt so stupid.  It happened as we stopped to eat somewhere in the remote area of west Texas. We were so fucked up, we didn't realize that we had been robbed until we got to Houston.  We wondered what we would do at the next gig without anything to wear.  But, because of the English music invasion, the hippie revolution and the fact that everyone was growing beards and long hair, we reluctantly decided that we would drop the Boogie Kings wardrobe. We opted to change the dress code in favor of everyone doing his own thing.  That didn't work out at all.  If you could picture ten cajuns in mod clothes, you would get a huge laugh.  The guys bought some hip clothes and tried to look cool, but the truth was, we looked very much out of the tradition of the Boogie Kings.
     Jack Hall tried valiantly to keep the band on a successful track, but I knew the odds were not with him. Up until this point, every leader since Harris Miller had gotten the axe.(Including me)   Jack was to be no exception to this precedent.   It is a daunting task to ramrod ten cajun musicians.  Because Jack had made it a co-op band, there was no leader's double pay anymore.  It was a tough job.  The Boogie Kings, after all of these years, seemed to be like a huge ship adrift at sea, with no rudder.  Jobs were getting fewer and the pay scale was going down.
     It was in this re-adjustment period that the Kings hired the great tenor sax player, Jon Smith.  I was still in the band, but I was feeling like an outcast.  Jon and I had been friends for many years, and I had a great admiration for his skill as a horn player. I still to this day have not heard his equal.  After hanging around with Jon, we came up with a plan to start our own group. We convinced two of the singers, Duane and Gary, to come with us.  I told Jon that I would not make the move unless Duane and Gary signed a five year personal management with me.  They both agreed and signed with me.  So in a bold and dramatic move, I announced to Jack Hall that I was quitting, and I was taking Duane, Gary and Jon with me. I knew that I was doomed anyway.  This was the heart and soul of the Boogie Kings sound, and our move left the Boogie Kings weaker and more vulnerable.
     We hired a rhythm section and got permission from the Hebert's to rehearse for two weeks in the Big Oak club. After fourteen days of intense rehearsals, we had put together a great show, far better than anything that the Kings could come up with. We named the band "What's Happening" and it was a happening band. And it would get much better.
     The Boogie Kings, in the meantime, had hired James Anderson, Little Alfred and Linda Clark ("Rosemary" McKeithen).   This was some formidable competition.  Linda Clark was an outstanding entertainer. We admired her performances greatly.  For a while, it seemed like Jack would survive the walkout by my guys.
     My new band arrived at the Dynasty Club for our debut gig to perform for "Smitty" Smith.  When we arrived at the club in Monroe to set up the stage, Smitty came over and told us that we were in serious trouble. He had been contacted by the cops. My motel room in Lake Charles had been searched on a tip by the desk clerk.  Some marijuana had been found.  Smitty told us that he had convinced the cops to wait until the gig was over to arrest us.  So here we were, on a cold night in February, all the work and rehearsal was about to go up in smoke. What a drag!
     When we found out this appalling bit of news, we had Darrell Cox, our roadie, take our cars one by one to be washed and vacuumed. We finished the gig, loaded up, and got about two blocks before all hell broke loose!
Police cars came from every direction, lights flashing and sirens howling. It looked like the night that "Baby-Face Nelson" got busted for seventeen murders.  We got locked up and the next day the Monroe paper read "Dope Ring Smashed!."  We did not consider ourselves criminals, but rather, musicians in the pursuit of happiness in a free country.  But, in the eyes of the law, we were considered as dangerous criminals.
     It was funny when they took us to jail.  We all had long hair, and the prisoners whooped and hollered and whistled at us when they took us in!  It would have been real easy to give up music at that time.  It would take weeks to get back to normal.
     On this cold February day, we had lost everything and we were broke to boot. But as crazy as we were at the time, we got out of jail and went out and bought a bag of weed and took up right where we left off.  We also hired a good lawyer named Camille Gravel.  He was the governor's lawyer at the time and a big fan.
     While all of this shit was happening to us, the Jack Hall Boogie Kings were getting it together and sounding good.  My new band had lasted only two months.  The year was 1968.
     Not to be defeated, Jon and Duane and I, the only three of us left, decided to hire some more players and start rehearsing the "What's Happening" band one more time. We just could not give up and admit defeat.  We hired Bobby Ramirez on drums, Johnny Soul, Ken Herpin and Ronnie Folse. They formed one of the finest rhythm sections that we ever put together.  Bobby Rameriz was one of the greatest drummers that ever picked up a stick, God rest his soul.
     Duane had been dating Linda Clark, who I know as "Rosemary."  She left the Boogie Kings and joined us in our battle to stay together.  Gary Walker decided not to come back after the bust.
     It's funny how life is. When we started playing again, we achieved an unbelievable degree of popularity. The drug bust had been in all the newspapers and it actually made us heroes instead of bums in the minds of our fans.  The Louisiana and Texas crowds were rallying around us like never before.  At the same time, our band was evolving into a psychedelic soul band, the only one of its kind.  We added a light show to our high energy band, mainly to get more visual.
     Jon Smith was playing better than I had ever heard him play. We recorded four instrumentals, two in a swamp pop vein, and a couple of psychedelic styled arrangements.  The swamp pop tunes were done on alto sax by Jon with Ned playing a supporting role.  We selected two beautiful Louisiana hits, "I'm Not a Fool Anymore," and "Nothing Takes the Place of You."  The psychedelic instrumentals were "Eleanor Rigby" and "Bang, Bang."  Four damn good cuts, if you want my opinion. Jon's solo on "Eleanor Rigby" was the finest solos that he ever played on alto sax.  At last, we were back on track with a solid show. At least….. we thought so.                   
    We were having a great deal of success in Baton Rouge playing at the Coconut Grove for a man named Martin Paul.  We played there every Tuesday and Wednesday night and the club was always jam packed with college kids. Roy Shaw was one of our greatest fans.   Roy is a major music distributor now.  We always played for the door money, and we were doing great.   It was the winter of 1968 and we were booked at the Grove for New Year's Eve, and we expected the door money to be very substantial.
        On the afternoon of December 31, we went to the club to set up and Martin Paul, the owner, came up to me and told me not to worry about putting a man on the door.  I told him that I always used my own man at the door on door jobs. He then told me that we were not getting the door money that night, but he was going to give us a flat price of a thousand dollars at least.  I said, "Huh?"  I told Martin Paul that we wanted all of the door money.  That was not our deal and he had no right to change the deal at the last minute.  This enraged him and he shouted at me, "This is my club and you will play for the price that I want to pay."  I looked him dead in the eye and said,  "Find yourself another band, mother-fucker."   I knew it was too late for him to get another band.   At this point, he pulled a gun on me and said, "You will play tonight or else!" I glared at that man with all of the hate that I could muster up. I must have looked up the barrel of that gun for a good sixty seconds.  Then I said, "You don't have the nuts to shoot me, Martin Paul."  I turned away and started for the door, praying that he would not shoot.   I made it out of the door, thank God, and went back to the motel room.  At about eight-thirty, with his club loaded with people, and no band on stage, he reluctantly called me at the motel, and in a very apologetic tone of voice, he said, "Ned, you can have the door money, come and play your gig."  We split thirty-eight hundred bucks that night.   Happy New Year!
        Shortly after New Year's,  I got a call from one of my friends from Lake Charles. Kay told me that she had some LSD, and she was bringing me some.  Everyone was experimenting in the sixties, and we were no different.  At the first break, Jon and I went outside with Kay and we both dropped acid for the first time.  By the time the gig was over, Jon and I were zooming.  It was all we could do to make it back to the room. It was another world and I was not enjoying it. LSD is not my thing.
    After we were in the motel for a few minutes, the phone rang. It was Darrell Cox, our roadie.  He told me that a gang of thugs had just been to his place and beat the hell out of his old lady.  He also said that they were headed for the motel trying to find Ned Theall.  Jon and I panicked!  We did not know it at the time, but Darrell was playing a prank on us.  Thinking the thugs were coming, we decided to go sit in the restaurant, where some people were, until the danger subsided.  The thugs never showed up, but we drove the waitresses nuts as we tripped in that restaurant for about nine hours.  They were certainly glad to see us leave at eleven that morning. Bad trip!
    Duane and Rosemary (Linda Clark) were a team that was hard to beat.  They were electrifying performers on stage.  At the Coconut Grove in Baton Rouge, we were drawing SRO crowds.  People would sit in front of the stage ten rows deep, focused intently on this great band.  It was great to be on top again, and it seemed like nothing could go wrong now.  Once again I was living like a king!  We were still awaiting trial, but we had a great deal of confidence in our lawyer.
    Then, out of a clear blue sky, Duane and Rose started to get "cosmic" on us.  Overnight, they both went through a complete change of persona and attitude. They were sure acting strange.  At the height of our popularity, with the band wailing like never before, Duane announced that they were quitting the group and moving to Vegas to pursue a career over there.  Trials and tribulations once again.
    So, we regrouped one more time and kept things together using Gary Walker, Luther Kent, and believe it or not, Clint West.  Not too long after that, the phone rang and it was Duane.  Duane had a gig booked in Las Vegas at a club called "The Psychiatrist."  He wanted us to be the house band.  Before I had left the Boogie Kings, I made a bet with Jack Hall that I would make it back to Vegas before he would.  When the contracts came in, we hauled ass for Las Vegas. I was happy to be going to Vegas before the Boogie Kings, after the way I was treated, It was nice to win something for a change.
    The Psychiatrist turned out to be the hippest club in Vegas.  It was a Rock n' Roll palace where celebrities would gather after their shows to unwind and relax.  We were featuring Clint West, Duane Yates, Rosemary and the great Luther Kent.  Nick Farkas, outstanding B-3 organ player, had joined the group after Gary Walker left.  The owner of the club was involved with cocaine and would frequently take musicians into his office and bump them up so that they would perform more energetically. Pretty soon Jon and I put our big noses into that deadly white powder.  Johnny, our bass player, was hitting the speed pretty hard. I noticed that he would sit alone in the corner and suspect that the whole band was talking about him.  I had seen these symptoms before, so I figured that Johnny wouldn't be around long.
    At the peak of our show, with everything going great guns, Duane and Rosemary decided to "retire" from show business. So once again, we were at the mercy of the singers and they were hanging us out to dry.  I said to Jon one night,  How long are we going to let front people destroy all of our work and effort?  We've got to depend on our own talent and stop letting our future be controlled by crazy egomaniacs."  Jon totally agreed and he replied, "Some day, Ned....... some day." …………….That day has finally come.
    The band busted up after that due to a lot of reasons. We had nothing going for us in Vegas anymore, so Jon and I headed for Hollywood. We arrived in Hollywood with about $500 between us. The plan was for us to find a band that needed a couple of good horn players.
    We knew Stu Gardener very well, so we sat in with his group at a club in Hollywood called the Haunted House. (Stu Gardner went on to become Bill Cosby's musical director)  Stu did not need any horn players, so we went to another club where some friends of Jon's from New Orleans were playing.  When we got there, they were on a break, and Jerry, the horn player, invited us to accompany him to the rear of the club to share a doobie.  As we passed the doob around, Eddie, the trumpet man, gave us each a couple of "Christmas Trees" (Tuinal) which of course, we promptly swallowed.  The plan was for us to sit in with the guys. Jon and I got up on stage with the group, and in the middle of that first song I felt my knees go weak and the room started turning around. The gist of it is, those pills kicked our ass and we played so bad, the club owner asked us to get off the stage!
    Still, not discouraged, we went to the local restaurant where all of the musicians hung out.  Skip and Flip, two local singers, told us about a wild party that was happening in the valley.  So we hopped in the car and followed Skip and Flip to the party.  A beautiful girl answered the door, invited us in, and told us to leave our clothes at the front door.(Big mistake)   Then the girl gave us each a couple of "reds" that we didn't need, as we were still weaving from the "Christmas Trees".
    The next thing I remember is trying to wake Jon up so we could get the hell out of there. We finally found our way back to the motel and decided to drive back to Louisiana.  We packed our shit, loaded the car, and walked to the front desk to pay the bill. We both reached for our wallets simultaneously, and we must have sounded like a duet as we both said, "Fuck!" at the same time, in harmony.  Apparently the party was a set-up to rob us because both of our wallets were gone.  We felt like a couple of fools, as we had to call home for some money to get home.  After hassling with Western Union for our money (we had no I.D.) we finally hit the road for Louisiana.
    When we got to New Mexico, I noticed a cop making a U-turn and following us. We had a lid of grass in the car and about ten hits of speed.  Thinking that he would pull us over, I swallowed all of the pills at once.(Another big mistake)  We pulled into a gas station, went to the restroom, and stashed the lid in the trash can. When we got back on the road, just as I suspected, the cop pulled us over.  Thank God, we had ditched everything, because he did search my car.  I guess it was the long hair that made him stop us. We lucked out that time. I was very fortunate not to O.D. from the pills.  I was still awake three days later.
    It was November 1968 when we got home.  We were defeated and drained.
At this time, I was so loaded on drugs that I did not even worry about the future.  I didn't realize that I was destoying myself. I just kept on getting high and not thinking about it.  Because of a wonderful and generous mother, I would be able to survive all of the turmoil that was in my life at this time.

Ned Theall  1967