Terry Jennings - Waylon: Tales of My Outlaw Dad

W aylon Jenningss renegade image and unique cutting-edge music were mesmerizing. His songs and genius came so gut deep and honest that imitators sounded foolish when they would try to mimic his style. I had always wanted to meet him and he was curious about methe guy from the Beatles who produced country records. We met in 1973 in the ballroom at Nashvilles Sheraton Hotel during the annual Country Music Convention in Nashville, Tennessee. Like everything Waylon, it was like a scene from a Sergio Leone movie. A disheveled cowboy and a Hollywood rocker abruptly coming face-to-face in the middle of a crowded, smoke-filled room. Something clicked between us that night that led to a five-year journey as close friends and a fascinating producer-artist relationship.

There were three people, though, who traveled with him for a much longer ride into the world of cowboy superstardom: one a fledgling child, one a rebellious rock it to the max youth, and one a man who grew into adulthood roaring alongside a legend. They are one personTerry Jennings, his firstborn. Terry saw, felt, and tasted it all from a unique perspectivea child growing into manhood at his dads side, looking on in amazement at something that was beyond his comprehension. As the years rolled by, he became a roadwise sidekick experiencing the madness and glory of riding hard and far with his ol man. He inherited the rebellious freedom imparted in him through the dramatic experience of watching his dads dreams unfold, falter, ignite, flame out, and then skyrocket to heights of dizzying success. There they were, a father and son, a boy and the legend known to us as Hoss, roaring down the never-ending highway to the next gig. We called Waylon Hoss because he called us that first.

Hillbilly Central, Tompall Glasers studio and offices on Nineteenth Avenue South, was where the rough riders of country music gathered during the heart and heat of the early outlaw years. We were outside of Sixteenth and Seventeenth Avenues (Music Row) where the good ol boys made the noise. I guess you could say we were known as the bad ol boys that just annoys. We liked it off to the side and thrived on being a pain in the aspirations of the establishment. It was unbridled madness at Hillbilly Centralit rocked and it roared, it stumbled and soared it was all about lyrics and a chord. It was heartfelt, it was lunacy, it was absurd, it was brazenly beautifulone thing for sure, it seldom slept. Gathered into its heart and halls was the wildest assemblage of outlaws and outsidersdudes and drifters, cowboys and cliffhangers, gentlemen and gutter balls, the famous and the forlorn, making music and history with some of Nashvilles leading songwriters and pickers of the day. The carpet smelled and the music swelled out of every corner of that building. I know I will never hear music that good again, feel more wild and free, or stay up that many days in a row. As Captain Midnight, one of our most beloved sidekicks, so aptly put it, Often we stayed up for six nights, and it felt like a week.

There are many stories about Waylon, but if you were around him long enough it soon became apparent he was a story all to himself. He didnt need to tell his story; the story told himthe road man, the guitar man, the songwriter man, the impossible-to-pin-down man, the family man, the creative genius man, the quiet man, the king-of-the-six-day-roar man, the uncommon man, the legendary man, the badass man, the kind man, the singer-of-sad-songs man, and the repeatedly disappearing man they are all in this book.

Around the edges and often underfoot was a kid watching from a distance, and before long he became an integral part of the story, mimicking us with youthful exuberance. If our cars, cowboy hats, or drugs were ever missing we knew where to find them just look for Terry. But that was a long time ago, and now, as he graciously shares his touching recollections on these pages, you not only get to see the distant view from an ever-ramblin tour bus, but in Waylon: Tales of My Outlaw Dad you get a closer look from the open window of Terrys heart. This is the most unique insider look at country musics most famous outlaw you will ever read.

For those of us who were there, Nashville, Tennessee, was the home of our diamonds and our dirt, our hearts and our hurt. Some of us came to Music City from places far awayits backbeats and backstreets drawing us like a magnet. Some stayed and in time some drifted away, each one sheltering deep inside the magic of country musics most dynamic and touching artist as part of their forever.