Dean-o's journals...

As promised, here are the first of Dean-o's journal entries. In these first three entries, catch a glimpse of Dean-o living large down in Sterling, Texas back in 1992. Be patient and you'll even find out how the band got its name. I will be adding more entries (I have his entire journal from 92) when I get some more time to decode the scrawl. I think he was half tanked when he wrote most of these.
-- Audrey

Tuesday May 26, 1992 - Sterling Texas
I hate having to get out of bed at 4:30 in the morning. For some reason, today's easy, I just got straight up out of bed in the clothes from last night and put my boots on. I'm hoping I'll be able to get on with the crew fixing all the fences out on McHorter ranch. I know what Tina Turner meant when she said "…working for the man every night and day." I guess I should have turned in earlier, but the "mash" was goin' down good. Hell, I don't think I can turn in without the shit.

Tire patching is tough work, but it's what I been making a living at for a few years now. Roy will see real quick he made a mistake cuttin my hours so Janie's new boyfriend can work at the shop. Hell, I been fixin to get away from that line of work since it's hard on the hands and no good for guitar. But this ranch work is a bunch of crap too. Last few days, I've been working with a bunch of rednecks and they end up making the work harder.

This early in the morning the dew makes everything wet. And there's a sandy grit in the back of the truck that just won't go away. You can feel it on the bottom of your boots. It feels like every footing is unsure. It's always cold before we get to the ranch. Packed in like damn cattle. No matter how hot it gets in the day, it's cold and wet when we leave. The worst is that I have to share the ride with 8 guys who look like they all just got out from Angola for sticking a shank in the side of someone. Every now and again you get some big eyed kid in the back of the truck. It's always some 'college' kid just trying to get some money for a 'kegger' at his frat or maybe he has some nasty habit. Whatever the reason, he couldn't go to daddy for the money. I'll be pissed if I don't get to sit somewhere on the back of that thing. Oh no. Not today.

I can't wait till the rodeo this weekend. I'll probably blow everything there. I always seem to. But this weekend I feel lucky. Plus, some fool is going to try and ride BroncoBilly* again. My money is on BroncoBilly -- nobody from these parts can last 8 seconds on that bull. Gotta head out.

*Clarification from Audrey here:
BroncoBilly was a bull that became the talk of Sterling county Texas back in 92. He could not be ridden. He was ridden 0 of 22 times. Here's a picture Dean-o snapped of the bull back in the day.

Once I read this passage, I told Dean-o that I always thought the band was named after the Clint Eastwood film, 'Bronco Billy'. His response was "Hell no…we didn't name the band after that lame ass film, we named it after the bull." I pointed out that perhaps the people who named the bull named it after the film, and that indirectly the band was named after the film. Dean-o's only response was "That doesn't count."

Thursday May 28, 1992 - Sterling Texas
It's night. Time to go out. But, I gotta try to make some cash. For what? Just to survive, man. I was thinkin' about that Maggie May tune. Maybe I should steal my daddy's cue and make a livin' out of playin' pool. But, I don't know where daddy is. Haven't seen him since I was a little 'cabron'.

The only thing I have in this world is me and my guitar. It's never failed me. It's kind of beat, but it can still sing. She's a natural blonde I picked up at a pawn shop. Wait a minute. That song also talked about finding a rock'n'roll band, that needs a helpin' hand. That's what I'll do. I'll go out and bring my axe along tonight. Worse comes to worse, chicks dig guitar players. And I'll be needing a place to stay anyway. The rent is due soon and looks like I'm gonna be a little short.

Friday May 29, 1992 - Sterling Texas
So the stage was covered in chicken wire. You know like in 'Bob's Country Bunker.' I was in luck. The band was short one of their guitar players. They played familiar stuff like Booker T and the MGs, Johnny Cash, Waylon & Willie, even The Blues Magoos. The bartender approached their singer to let them know that there was someone who could sit in. From a distance, I saw that the singer was excited and the bartender waived me over. The singer looked up to see who was coming and his jaw dropped. I thought, "Alright, this guy has probably seen me rock out before." He chomped on his chaw, while I weaved through the smoky air and shuffling crowd. I finally got over to him. He took one look at me. Smiled. Some of his chaw wrapped around his front teeth. He leaned to me and said, "Nope." He turned to the other guys in the band and whispered, "No fuckin' way."

Thinking now, I should have crowned him right then. I can picture it: as he turns, I slam the corner of my guitar case into the base of his skull. Then I take his Stetson and piss on it in front of his band. But, my patience got the better of me. Instead, it just stews and ruins the night. Fuck it. I came home. Yeah, alone. I didn't even talk to any women there.

To come:
- Dean-o and D.U. meet (an argument about the importance of Rodeo Clowns)
- The first punches thrown
- Enter Bud L. Moore
- The first shows