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Recorded in Savannah GA----September-November 2014
This World: Richard Leo Johnson- Vintage Silvertone Electric Guitar 1980s Multi Band Radio Various and Assorted Devices That World: Roscoe Houndstooth- Silvertone Electric Guitar All songs by Richard Leo Johnson Dew Claw Music Produced: Richard Leo Johnson and Gabe Herman Mixed and Edited : Gabe Herman Cover Art: Michael Hofftka Photography: Darrell Droddy and Richard Leo Johnson |
Roscoe Houndstooth “Listen to the Sky”
Roscoe is a Shoshone Native American Indian living on the Wind River reservation in Wyoming. He lives alone in a very modest cabin and is the only child of deceased parents. Roscoe is in his late 20s and has never ventured far from the reservation. In Dec. of 1969 the subsidies from the feds were reduced significantly….forcing Roscoe and many others in his age range to look for work outside of the reservation. Roscoe found work in the nearby town Riverton at the Sunset Motel. He swept and kept the parking lot and area round the motel clean and free of trash. One day while sweeping the parking lot a sleek sports car wheeled into the motel. Dust was flying as a well-dressed 30 something man, wearing a business suit, opened the door to the driver side and approached the motel office. As the dust settled Roscoe could make out the passenger. Through the road dirt and glare in the window, he saw a weather worn older man (Vernon McAlister) wearing a crumpled hat and staring straight ahead as if in a trance. The driver came out of the office, grabbed a small suitcase and one other larger rectangular case about the size of an ironing board. The other man exited the car and they both went into the room closing the door behind. Roscoe continued his work until around sundown. He took the reservation shuttle bus back to the reservation, as usual the bus driver was constantly dialing the radio trying to find decent reception....it was a common theme on the ride to and from the reservation. Roscoe found the random searches both entertaining and silly. Roscoe returned to the motel and resumed his routine of cleaning and sweeping. He noticed the two men from yesterday, walking from the diner across the highway back to the motel. The driver nodded to Roscoe and Roscoe gestured in return. The other man (Vernon) remained stoic and composed, staring ahead and walking in step with the driver. The driver emerged from the room a few minutes later. He motioned for Roscoe to come over. Roscoe ambled over and stood near the man. The driver started to explain to Roscoe that he was a very successful attorney from New York City. He went on to describe how he became disillusioned with the rat race and decided to give up all of worldly possessions and move to a commune in Oregon… Roscoe was clueless as to what the man was trying to say but responded politely simply saying “good”… Then Roscoe asked…“who is the man with you?” The driver said…“oh he is just a hitchhiker I picked up in Missouri”… “He is going with me to Oregon, he had all of his stuff stolen, so he has nothing to lose.” “He doesn’t say much but he is a good listener…I guess.” Roscoe nods and says “Ok”. As the man starts toward the room he turns around and says to Roscoe…”Hey I have something, the last thing I own… I mean you might want it…do you want to see?” Roscoe said “Ok”. They walked into the room. Roscoe saw the other man (Vernon) sitting on the edge of one of the beds. Roscoe noticed the strange case lying on the other bed…. The driver pointed at the case and said…“so what do you think?” He flipped open the case and inside was a strange shaped thing with sparkles enclosed in red velvet…there was a long stick with silver strands that came out of the strange shaped thing. Inside the case were some round openings with what looked like little glass bottles. Roscoe looked long and hard at the thing and was just silent… The man said impatiently…“Well so do you want it or not!?” Roscoe replied….“What is it…?” The man, exacerbated at the fact that Roscoe didn’t know what his prized Silvertone electric guitar was, said sarcastically…”Oh…it’s a radio…” Roscoe lit up and said…“Oh yes…I would like that…” The driver said mockingly…“Ok man hope you pick up some groovy receptions…” He walked out the door to the car and motioned for the other man (Vernon) to follow…. Vernon got up, walked over to the guitar, took the power cord, stuck it into an outlet, and plugged the guitar cord in to the amplifier, which was built into the case, flipped on the toggle switch and walked out the door to the car. The little glass bottles behind the round holes, started to glow a deep orange color and gradually the whole box began to howl, scream and moan… Roscoe was scared but excited and mesmerized with his new gift. He looked at the nobs and the shiny keys at the end of the stick and watched the shimmering silver strands on the thing vibrate and hum. The two men drove away and left Roscoe with what will become an obsession for him for the coming days.
Roscoe is a Shoshone Native American Indian living on the Wind River reservation in Wyoming. He lives alone in a very modest cabin and is the only child of deceased parents. Roscoe is in his late 20s and has never ventured far from the reservation. In Dec. of 1969 the subsidies from the feds were reduced significantly….forcing Roscoe and many others in his age range to look for work outside of the reservation. Roscoe found work in the nearby town Riverton at the Sunset Motel. He swept and kept the parking lot and area round the motel clean and free of trash. One day while sweeping the parking lot a sleek sports car wheeled into the motel. Dust was flying as a well-dressed 30 something man, wearing a business suit, opened the door to the driver side and approached the motel office. As the dust settled Roscoe could make out the passenger. Through the road dirt and glare in the window, he saw a weather worn older man (Vernon McAlister) wearing a crumpled hat and staring straight ahead as if in a trance. The driver came out of the office, grabbed a small suitcase and one other larger rectangular case about the size of an ironing board. The other man exited the car and they both went into the room closing the door behind. Roscoe continued his work until around sundown. He took the reservation shuttle bus back to the reservation, as usual the bus driver was constantly dialing the radio trying to find decent reception....it was a common theme on the ride to and from the reservation. Roscoe found the random searches both entertaining and silly. Roscoe returned to the motel and resumed his routine of cleaning and sweeping. He noticed the two men from yesterday, walking from the diner across the highway back to the motel. The driver nodded to Roscoe and Roscoe gestured in return. The other man (Vernon) remained stoic and composed, staring ahead and walking in step with the driver. The driver emerged from the room a few minutes later. He motioned for Roscoe to come over. Roscoe ambled over and stood near the man. The driver started to explain to Roscoe that he was a very successful attorney from New York City. He went on to describe how he became disillusioned with the rat race and decided to give up all of worldly possessions and move to a commune in Oregon… Roscoe was clueless as to what the man was trying to say but responded politely simply saying “good”… Then Roscoe asked…“who is the man with you?” The driver said…“oh he is just a hitchhiker I picked up in Missouri”… “He is going with me to Oregon, he had all of his stuff stolen, so he has nothing to lose.” “He doesn’t say much but he is a good listener…I guess.” Roscoe nods and says “Ok”. As the man starts toward the room he turns around and says to Roscoe…”Hey I have something, the last thing I own… I mean you might want it…do you want to see?” Roscoe said “Ok”. They walked into the room. Roscoe saw the other man (Vernon) sitting on the edge of one of the beds. Roscoe noticed the strange case lying on the other bed…. The driver pointed at the case and said…“so what do you think?” He flipped open the case and inside was a strange shaped thing with sparkles enclosed in red velvet…there was a long stick with silver strands that came out of the strange shaped thing. Inside the case were some round openings with what looked like little glass bottles. Roscoe looked long and hard at the thing and was just silent… The man said impatiently…“Well so do you want it or not!?” Roscoe replied….“What is it…?” The man, exacerbated at the fact that Roscoe didn’t know what his prized Silvertone electric guitar was, said sarcastically…”Oh…it’s a radio…” Roscoe lit up and said…“Oh yes…I would like that…” The driver said mockingly…“Ok man hope you pick up some groovy receptions…” He walked out the door to the car and motioned for the other man (Vernon) to follow…. Vernon got up, walked over to the guitar, took the power cord, stuck it into an outlet, and plugged the guitar cord in to the amplifier, which was built into the case, flipped on the toggle switch and walked out the door to the car. The little glass bottles behind the round holes, started to glow a deep orange color and gradually the whole box began to howl, scream and moan… Roscoe was scared but excited and mesmerized with his new gift. He looked at the nobs and the shiny keys at the end of the stick and watched the shimmering silver strands on the thing vibrate and hum. The two men drove away and left Roscoe with what will become an obsession for him for the coming days.