As we move toward the New Year of 2010, we are looking back on the great year the Cruize Brothers experienced in 2009. We had a lot of gigs in Hot Springs, Little Rock, Fayetteville, Newport and Paragould, Arkansas. The group was featured on KATV Good Morning Arkansas ABC TV Ch 7, with a live interview and performance. We had a great day hanging with the TV celebrities from Good Morning Arkansas, and they have invited us back on the show as we work on setting a date.
As most of y'all know, we have Blues Guitar News www.bluesguitarnews.com that went on-line back in 1997, and before that we were in print format called "Strictly Nothing But The Blues" Some of our first advertisers two decades ago were Alligator Records, Street Scene, James Harman and Janiva Magness. As you know, they've moved on up to bigger and better things. The four folks at the top of this news letter, are our consistent advertising buddies all year long on line. THANK YOU! Blues Guitar News does go around to a worldwide readership that has just passed the 30,000 mark with up to 50 visitors a day, and hundreds of hits on all our pages including the archive back issues. Our "Arkansas Legends" page is one of the top viewed sites we have, and we are proud to advertise and brag about Arkansas Blues Legends. Our advertising is reasonable and you get good exposure.
Peter Read and David Hughes featured The Cruize Brothers in the Nightflying Entertainment Guide, and more than a couple times this year along with some great photos. I think all our kids and cousins got most of the copies. Max Anderson and John Calvin Brewer featured the band in Vibe Magazine with a really nice two-page layout with color glossy photos too. Thanks to y’all for the recognition in your publications. You are appreciated.
Odies House of Blues opened this year, and the Cruize Brothers were invited to be the host band for the weekly jam sessions every Thursday. The sessions started off slow, but in no time at all the word got out in the street, and the weekly jam is a happening blues event in Arkansas now. Jammers are coming in from all over Arkansas, Texas, and Mississippi and from noted music towns like Memphis, Dallas, Branson and Fayetteville to join in the weekly blues jam experience. There are always the regulars and new faces every week. Check out the jam session slide show. Who knows, you could be in photos?
The Cruize Brothers were invited to open the Hot Springs Blues Festival this year, and. Thank you to David & Sheree Hughes, Babs Bearden, Leadra Orr and Joe & Ronda Pitts for keeping our name in the hat as festival participants this year. Jo Ann took a few videos, which are on YouTube, of the Hot Springs Festival set, and we want to give a big thanks to everyone all around the world for great comments about that performance. The group had a great set, and good time at this local festival.
Liz Lottmann, President of the Ozark Blues Society, invited us to play for the Bikes, Blues & Hot Rods event in Fayetteville, AR, which is the 4th largest bike rally in the USA. The show was at the AMP Pavilion, and the Ozark Blues Society made us feel just like family, like they always do. Good seeing Roy & Sandy McCann, again and all the great folks keeping blues alive and well in Fayetteville up in Northwest Arkansas. The cool thing about this was, the Marshall Tucker Band played the AMP on Friday, and they left the same sound system and gear on stage for us the next day on Saturday. I passed on playing out of a Marshall half-stack, and ran through my 1984 Fender “Paul Rivera” Concert. I couldn’t blow my image on an icon rock amp. Ha. Hey, if the equipment was good enough for Marshall Tucker, it was good enough for us too. Darn tootin'. A super BIG thank you to Paul Kelso, blues DJ from KUAF Radio 91.3 FM, for taking some wonderfully great videos and photos of the Cruize Brothers on stage at the AMP. The slow blues, “Don’t Throw Your Love On Me So Strong” was received well on AOL, YouTube and MySpace videos with really nice feedback comments. Thank you.
The Cruize Brothers were invited to host the Arkansas River Blues Society jam session this year, and Blues Hall of Fame certificates were given out to Jeff Weeden, Deb Moser, Guido Ciardetti and blues legend John Craig. This was a great blues evening for everyone. Great jam too, plus introducing everyone to The Blues Hall of Fame.
One of my personal favorites was when Guido and I ware in Dallas at the Vintage Guitar Show. Gary Hutchison of Oreo Blue came up to us and asked if we wanted to join the jam session he has hosted for 12 years at the Sheriton Hotel next door. Sure, why not? Guido called his long time Dallas drummer with Brian Atlas trio, Johnny Benson, and we asked Gary Hutchison to join us on our set. Gosh all mighty, did I have one super time jamming with these three guys. Gary is an off the charts showman picker, and we had one ball with extended solos during some old Albert King songs. Nice, large crowd that respected us too with applause. Great time. This is one to store in the memory banks.
Joe & Rhonda Pitts got us recording in their Lonesome Oak Studio in White Hall, AR. All the rhythm tracks are about wrapped up, and the group will be back in the studio shortly to work on vocals and solos. Rhonda just makes anyone sound good, and we are looking forward to finalizing the CD. Joe & Rhonda are some of the best music folks on the planet, and for sure at the top of the list here in Arkansas. Can't say enough good things about them both.
We have met so many new friends from all around the world this year. The Cruize Brothers MySpace has thousands of friends, and over 11,000 visits to the site. The group is on Twitter, FaceBook, Ning, BluesWorld and a few other social networks were everyday we meet hundreds of new friends worldwide that like blues, jazz and roadhouse music like the Cruize Brothers play it. All the links are posted on this page, including the FaceBook Cruize Brothers fan group that just hit over 380 fans growing by leaps and bounds everyday. Thank you.
“Sissy Strut” is the biggest hit and most viewed video since group’s video of “Chitlin' Con Carne” at YouTube. It received 750 plays in one month. Wow, thank y’all. The video was re-mastered, as some folks can’t listen to live music with all the noise distractions from the little video microphone. Musicians hear past the wind, pink and white noises, to check out what is going on with the interplay in the group. Anyway the audio on the video was cleaned up, compressed and EQ’d, for better listening quality, a little better, and is called “Sissy Strut 3” It is now getting some hits and comments too.
On this page are our friends, many of who don’t mind sharing the hog. If you are a first time visitor to Blues Guitar News, Cruize Brothers and Mike Dollins.com , “Sharing the Hog” is what we call someone that shouts out about fellow gigging buddies and artists. If you were caught sharing the hog, then more than likely you are on this page with a link back to your site. Most photos and graphics are “hot shoe” so just click on them to travel to that link. Links are listed way below, for those that have slow computers and can’t get all the photos booted up. Click, or copy and paste into your web address bar. RAM is cheap and easy to put in these days, so do yourself a favor and buff your RAM up to at least 1 GB. I’m using 4 GB, as that is what is needed to get around cyber space these days, and a fast video accelerator card couldn’t hurt either. Our top recognition for "Sharing the Hog" goes to Chet Cannon, the blues meister from Southern California. Thanks Chet, for keep us linked and posted to your "Shout Out" news letter.
In wrapping this all up, Blues Guitar News has four years of past issues posted on-line. Along with the “Hot Links” tabs, you can visit a worldwide blues connection of thousands and thousands of blues folks that dig blues networking. Be sure to visit “Arkansas Blues Legends” as Arkansas matches Mississippi being home to legendary blues icons. You’d be surprised to see who’s who in Arkansas Blues. Our friends and fans are made up from local friends and associates, old time friends that we’ve made along our music journey, family members that stay linked up with us and our worldwide blues friends that stay in contact. Over the course of one year, thousands of folks drift through our sites, and many leaving very nice complimentary comments. Thank you.
The “Cruize Brothers” started around 1988 in San Diego, California. Len Rainey walked into my music shop one day, and I discovered he was from Chicago, a bass player, singer and looking for a band. King Biscuit Band just broke up, as Ken Schoppmeyer was doing a different trip at the time, and Paul Cowey moved back to Washington. I grabbed Tony Matoian on Sax and Victor Marquez on guitar. Victor and I had a group called Cruizin' back in the 70’s and 80’s that played R&B, Soul and Classic Rock. We played at all the San Diego high school reunions, and made a good name for our self. I changed the name to “Cruize Brothers” in 1988. Over the years in San Diego, we had Victor, Tony, Len along with Enjambre family; Roy, Roy Jr. and Dominic. Occasionally Cynthia Hammond from KSDS FM radio in San Diego would perform with us at bigger shows. We did a few Southern California blues festivals, and were featured at the Sony Corp Art Walk in Little Italy in San Diego around 2002. Some of the guys also perform with Sue Palmer, Lady Star and Michele Lundeen, "Queen of Steam," in San Diego. Most of the time they book as Len Rainey & The Midnight Players, who got to play the Catalina Island Blues Festival this year. How cool is that? . In 2005, I packed up and moved back to Arkansas to be near my massive Arkansas family. I have so many relatives in Arkansas; it is too difficult to even count them. Some of my kids and grand kids moved out with us, and for the first year all we did was fish in our new Bass Tracker boat on the Arkansas River. The boys still fish as much as possible.
A year ago I walked into Guido Ciradetti’s music store in Hot Springs AR, as seen on this web site. One thing lead to another, and we started going to jam sessions along with Mike Fraz on keyboards and Brad Messer on drums. On my birthday November 12th, this year will be one year the current version of the Cruize Brothers has been together - still jamming our socks off having a ball. Never thought I’d get three guys that love the same music I do, and know how to communicate through music live and on the fly while it is happening. Great stuff.
We are building a little following, and we are looking to book our schedule for the 2010 season. We almost made it to Helena at the “Biscuit” this year, but didn’t make the final cut. Sonny Payne and Bubba promised to get us on the show next year. We are looking forward to our new CD, and enjoy staying in touch with all our thousands of blues friends from all over the world. God bless, and keep on jammin’ them blues. Email mike@mikedollins.biz
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Hey Y'all, this is the Cruize Brothers "State of the Union" NewsLetter, on what's happening and what's up. For you new comers, most of all the graphics and photos on any of our sites are "hot shoe" ready, meaning just mouse click them, and you will travel to the site the JPG or BMP indicates. What do you think of our new Rocket 88 logo? Cool huh? Between MySpace, Ning, Twitter, email, FaceBook etc. It is impossible to keep up with the thousands of messages we get every week. I've had folks tell me, "Hey I joined you as a friend on MySpace." Gee thanks, but we have five different MySpace sites, and at least 20,000 friends from all over the world. So, if we miss you, we are sorry. Try our main email for messaging, which is checked daily most of the time. All bulk emails are sent to the chum bucket, and erased. We try to answer all personal email. cruizebrothers@mikedollins.biz
The Fabulous Jades Chapter One Mike Dollins Guitar Book By Mike Dollins Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved
From: Mike Dollins, the author of Blues Guitar News.
Hey, this ain’t tooting my horn on the credits and dues I’ve paid since I picked the guitar up at 13 years old in 1958. This is more or less how an Irish, Norman Englishman, Dutch Jew, Choctaw Indian wound up with such a deep desire to play the blues. From what my grandma Dollins told me before she died in 1980 at 97 years old, she remembers moving from Tennessee to West Memphis, Arkansas when she was a little girl around the 1890’s. My daddy was born just outside of West Memphis, in a house along Highway 49, on a cotton farm July 1913. Brother, it don't get any more blues than that. Sorry, it's the truth, and this would be a great beginning to any blues story ever told. We are talking all pure Mississippi Valley delta as you can get along the famous blues highway. The blues crossroads of America where it all came from. During the Great Depression, grandma lost the cotton farm to Yankee carpetbaggers, and moved down to Little Rock, AR where my dad met my mother at Olive Hill Baptist Church. My mother’s clan, the Squires settled in Little Rock, as far back as 1830. Great, great grandpa Hiram Squires is buried in the woods near Olive Hill Baptist Church, and in the family cemetery at Olive Hill Baptist Church are my great grandparents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins that have gone on to glory. I too will proudly lay to rest next to my kinfolk in this hollowed and sacred family ground someday. It’s the Indian compunction in me that makes me feel this way. After World War II, times were tough all over. My daddy landed a job with the US Government, on the Marine Base in San Diego, California. Thus, I grew up in sunny 72 degrees all year long, la-la land, but came back to our home state of Arkansas every summer on my uncle’ s farms. I was a country boy, growing up in one of fastest growing Southern California environments ever, where I always felt like a fish out of water. My parents won a housing lottery for an old cracker box government house built fast for housing relief during WWII, in a little San Diego suburb called Linda Vista. All the Arkies, Okies, Blacks, Hispanics and Asians that were in San Diego for WWII, all won lottery’s on these cheap government loan houses. What didn't sell were given to the local native Indians. The street I grew up on, we were the only white family. Many of the elder blacks saw me banging on an old beat up Stella guitar on my front porch, and they used to give me their old 78 Rhythm and Blues records to listen too. I loved that R&B and jazz from the pre-rock and roll days of golden 40 & 50’s music era. Gosh, that was great swing era boogie. My aunt Elsie Dollins, a full Choctaw, played guitar, yodeled and sang. Mostly a mixture of Baptist Hymnal and fifties popular country swing tunes. Between the two, it all sounded like 1, 4, 5 blues to me. When 1955 hit, I was 10 years old. The early so called Rock & Roll, sounded like blues to me, until Hollywood started sprucing up all those pretty boys named “Bobby” "Ricky" and “Pat” to cover black singer blues tunes. You know, record executives reaching a wider white audience, and a larger record sales volume. In 1958 I worked mowing lawns to get my first good Kay “F” hole arch-top electric guitar. My older cousins would give me their old 45 records, as soon as the songs fell of the top 40 hit parade charts, and were considered junk oldies. I would usually trade off the bubble gum songs, and keep the ones I liked. I kept them old records still to this day, and the ones that survived were all by black artists. Not one white artist except Buddy Holly and Hispanic Ritchie Valens are in the childhood collection to this very day. Then around 1961 I got my first three 33 1/3 RPM, full play albums, 1. Freddy King – “Hideaway,” 2. Bobby Bland – “Here’s The Man,” 3. B.B. King – “My Kind of Blues.” I still have all three albums in my massive Blues Record collection. My cousin Robert “Sonny” Johnson had a band. He played drums, and I used to sneak in, and listen to them play. When they took a smoke break, I used to mess with all their gear knowing I would get yelled at. I even screwed around with their tape recorder, but never got caught. I couldn’t help myself. It was like an uncontrollable addiction fondling the guitars and amps. The high school band I had in the 60’s become a teenage pop-culture band, and was very popular for all the local teen dances. We won a contest, and were actually broadcast on KOGO Radio, in San Diego, CA in 1962. With Rick Matanane, a Hawaiian I met in 8th grade who had a real Fender No-Caster Tele, Larry Cox on a 1954 Fender P. Bass, Skip Young, a New York trained drummer, Tony Cook and Steve Euwing on horns, we were one tough teenage band. We were the "Caravans." I was up all night long practicing my guitar just to keep up as the rhythm guitar player. My dad signed for me to get a rent-to-own electric guitar. It was a Fender Duo Sonic, cherry burst and a Fender Tweed Twin amp. I was romping in tall cotton now. I went from being a little weird nerd kid staring out the window all day dreaming about guitars in class, to Mr. Cool on campus overnight. The head cheerleaders wanted to date me, asking me out to all the girls league balls and such. As kids in high school, we made good money gigging in San Diego during 1960 to 1963 at all the teenage sock hops. Mrs. Cox, Larry’s mom was our manager and kept us booked all over town, all the time. Somewhere in 1962 I traded up to a Gibson ES 335, and a Gibson Falcon amp with reverb built in. I used that 1962 Gibson 335 up until 1997, when I sold it to Hollywood Guitar Center for a lot of money, and another Gibson Guitar. I swore, I saw John Lee Hooker playing that 335 before he passed away. Then the fall of 1963, I joined the United States Air Force. The band members graduated from high school, and most everyone was looking forward to college. I didn’t want to be drafted in the Army, and joined the Air Force at 17 years old with my parents consent and signature. On September 7, 1963 I was an Airman, and landed in San Antonio Texas, at Lackland USAF base. After boot camp, I was sent to Air Police Training. In November 1963 we were training on weapons at the firing range, when we saw Air Force One take off across the road from Kelly AFB, and fly directly over us. It was JFK's flight to Dallas, Texas. We all looked up and saw the presidential seal on the blue and silver jet liner. A couple hours later we heard the "News Flash" over our little transistor radios that President Kennedy was assassinated. Our sergeant and captain gathered us up, and told us, “Pack your duffel bags, and keep your weapons by your side. Be prepared to go anywhere in the world at a moments notice.” We were on lock down watching television of the unfolding horrid events, waiting orders to go to war at any second. Within a couple days, our code red alert relaxed. It was a tense time, and I was ready to protect my country. Youthful as I was, only 17 years old, I felt my call to duty to get those dirty sons of guns that killed our president. First and only time in my life I actually felt like murdering someone, and had a legal right to do so. I had a little red Silvertone acoustic guitar, and we would all go in the lounge area, playing and singing to break the tension we all had during this tragic time in US history. Then in January of 1964, I had a short leave at home, then off to Minot SAC AFB, in North Dakota. I had to look on a map to even see where North Dakota was located. For a naive, guitar brained southern California raised Arkie, I was in shock that North Dakota had ten months of blizzard snow, sub-arctic freezing winter, and almost two months of rain filled summer every year. In Southern California snow was something you drove up to the mountains once a year to romp around in, and then back down to the beach for a dip in the ocean that afternoon. Sub- zero weather and me did not get along. With not much to do, except eat, sleep, body functions and work - boredom and loneliness were the moods of each grueling and grinding cold day staring out the window as the snow blew sideways with a visibility of 20 feet on a good day. With time on my hands, around February of 1964, my dad sent my guitar and amp to me. I had a buddy drive me down to the train station, and in a wood box crate were my 1962 Gibson ES-335 named “Suzie” and my Gibson Falcon tube amp. It was like an old familiar friend, a bit of home and a much-wanted possession I needed very badly. Along with my guitar, was my small record collection. See the three albums above, and add in Ray Charles’ Greatest hits and James Brown at the Apollo Theater. Needless to say, I wore these albums out. I was roomed with two white guys, and they used to rag on me playing “N” word music. I noticed that a black friend, Thomas, didn’t have a third roommate. I asked if I could move in his room, and he was more than happy. He was gone most of the time, and our other roommate, Lenny Durham, from Boston was the first black man I ever met with a Boston Accent. Both great guys, and they got a kick out of the weird white kid from California that was getting into Hard-Bop and free form jazz. I started buying Miles Davis, Coltrane, Horace Silver, Jimmy Smith and Kenny Burrell albums every month at the BX when payday rolled around. Now my music pallet was R&B, Soul, Blues and Jazz. Nothing else in music seemed to float my boat, and didn’t matter to me especially the top pop, bubble gum crap on radio. At this point, I stopped listening to radio forever. All my off duty time was spent studying Mickey Baker’s Jazz Guitar Book. I was learning jazz chords, and solos. I listened to all my albums, and tried playing along. I was intent that when I got out of the USAF in four years, I would head back to California an accomplished, studied and hot guitar player. Musical talent, I was not born with. Knowing this, practice – practice – practice, consumed my every waking hour when not at work. I actually took my guitar with me out to Minute Man Missile sites, when I was on security duty. We flew to work in HU1 Huey Helicopters, and my 335 was always stowed in the baggage compartment. Being on a missile site was having 12 hours of undisturbed time to practice my guitar, with my M2 Carbine and 38 S&W Police Special by my side on constant look out for saboteurs wanting to blow up my missile. I was ready for those communist bastards, and would blow them away in a heartbeat protecting my country. Guitars and guns were my way of life then at 18 years old. I never did see anyone sitting on a missile silo all day, except an occasional farmer plowing his wheat fields. They would look over at us Airman squatting on gravel filled missile site, and just shrug their shoulders as to say, "Waste of manpower and money. Get a real job." Dang, those John Deere tractors were massive. Largest piece of green and yellow machinery I had ever seen at 18 years old. A buddy named Don Grady, popped in my room one day. He was a guitar player - singer from Danbury, Connecticut. We started jamming the routine club tunes of the era. The recreation room on base had a stage, and sound system. Occasionally Leslie Burnside from Bolder, Colorado would sing with us. Don and Leslie harmonized great together. We’d grab a fill-in drummer and did a few little gigs here and there. In the USAF, everyone had a schedule, and unfortunately an Air Force base is a 24/7 operation. Getting our schedules together was a challenge. One day around May of 1964, I was in my room taking a break kicking back smoking a cigarette, and missing home real bad wondering who my girlfriend was dating. My guitar was lying on the top bunk bed. I heard a knock on the door, and I invited the person in. The door opened, and there stood Big John Johnson, from Mississippi. A nose tackle football player, that looked bigger than a Kodiak bear standing in my doorway blocking every inch of sunlight like a door eclipse, asked politely if he could come in. He introduced his self, and said he heard I played guitar. We shook hands, and it was like sticking my paw in the back end of a turkey as it disappeared totally engulfing my little white hand. We chatted small talk, and then he asked me if he could play my guitar. He gently picked it up with care, and started walking the bass line to “Stormy Monday” just like Bobby Bland's version. I got excited, and ask, “Do you play bass?” He said, ‘Naw, but I want to buy one and learn.” "Will you teach me if I buy one?" I said, “Heck yeah.” He then started singing Stormy Monday, and I thought I was hearing Bobby Bland in person. I felt like an NFL football coach that just landed the first round Heisman Trophy, running back in the draft. At only 18, I already knew music talk was cheap when it came to musicians and want to be’ talking trash about this and that, which most of the time was lip service BS, and not a drop of walking the talk follow through. Then a few days later, Big John again knocked on my door. His hulking frame came in carrying a case, and tossed it on the table. It was a knock off, Japanese copy of a 1945 Fender P. Bass. We instantly plugged in my little Gibson amp, and jammed the rest of the evening. John’s hands were twice the size of an average man’s hands, and he learned on the fly like he was born to play bass. As he learned, every single note he hit was just absolutely dripping with soul, and I never, ever heard him hit an un-cool note. He brought me more BB King albums, and started pointing out songs like "Sweet Little Angel," and showing me what he called, “Making the guitar talk.” I was teaching him bass, and he was tutoring me into listening deeper and more finite to what the blues was really all about. He told me, "It's got to tell a story." "Listen to BB's notes, and to what he's saying with his guitar." We invited Don Grady to come into our duo. He played rhythm and sang very well. Before summer arrived, Big John said he would like to have TC Webb, join us. That TC played a mean sax, and sang really well. I knew a drummer named Pat Bergen, who also was a DJ on the local top pop radio station in Minot, North Dakota. We started rehearsing in the rec room, and one day a big tough, cranky looking Master Sergeant was sitting in the back listening to us. I thought we were in for it, from a hard core lifer that had hash marks up his sleeve a mile long. Don Grady knew Sergeant, Teddy Vandever, and they were talking during a break. Sarge, as we came to calling him wanted to manage our group. He had a Quonset Hut on the edge of the base, where he made us practice around the clock. He worked our fingers to the bone getting our sound down, and our sound together. He would pull strings, making sure we were all off duty and available to play gigs. The new band was nameless, and at 18 years old men’s cologne was a must when socializing around females. It was a sixties thing. I was partial to Old English, Canoe and Jade East. We were going out to hear another local band, “The Messengers” who was our competition on base, and there would be ladies at the show. I put on my finest threads, and then doused myself with Jade East. It popped into my head, "Jade East?" no "The East Jades?" no “The Jades.” I couldn’t wait to tell Sarge and the guys. When I presented the group name to them all, they loved it. We were now, “The Jades.” The next week, we went down to Minot, and had tailor made tuxedos ordered. Pants, shirts, ties and two jackets. One was white sequin and one was jade colored sequin. We were booking and billed as, "The Fabulous Jades." We started making a name for our self. Pat had toured with Johnny and the Hurricanes, and was one heck of a stage show drummer with his driving rhythms. Big John sang the blues, Don Grady sang the ballads, and Mr. TC Webb sang all the James Brown songs. TC, stands for Top Cat, and he started playing all the Junior Walker songs like Shot Gun, Cleos Mood and Road Runner. John, Don and TC harmonized better than the four tops, and temptations rolled up together. As our popularity grew, Sergeant Vandever entered us in the battle of the bands, for the state of North Dakota. This was in the summer of 1965. I was four months away from turning 20 years old. I had a Chevy wagon to hall gear in, made a new stripe on my sleeve and had the hottest band in the mid-west. This happy good music experiences made up a little for loss, when my girlfriend married my competition back in San Diego. Yep, Jodie got my girl if you know what I mean you Vets? It was the biggest bummer in my young life, but it did make me want to play the blues more than ever. I actually got an edge on my solos that TC and Big John used to compliment me on. Sarge made us rehearse, rehearse and rehearse. We were tighter than an 8-day clock wound up to 10-days. With our new sequin tuxedos, we were dressed as sharp as any Motown act at the Apollo, patent leather shoes and all. It was getting close to show time. The night finally came, and we drove down to the indoor shopping center where the battle of bands was held. A crowd of thousand or so was gathering, as in North Dakota, there isn’t much social activity, and when something came along it was a smash hit. The stage was high, and in the center of the shopping complex. Teddy, our manager knew we were all nervous, knowing we never saw such a large crowd before. He also knew the local favorites were bound to win from just shear local teenage popularity. Our main competition was from “The Embermen,” the local favorites. As the show began, all the local bands were doing their three song sets. Sarge grabbed us all, and pulled us into the corner pub. He made us all have a two finger shot of whisky, just to calm our nerves down. I was just an occasional beer drinker, and the other guys didn’t drink much either. This was what the doctor ordered, as with just a little jolt of Jack Daniels in our system, enough to just relax us as our name was called. When we hit the stage doing the James Brown one-leg shuffle, and blew right into “Shot Gun” but we were so excited it was jacked up on 10. Our adrenal glands were full bore open, and youthful bodies glided into step, as if this is what we were all born to do. TC Webb blew his butt off on the his sax over the best PA system we had ever been on, and my 335 out of a blonde Fender Bandmaster, oxblood grill 1-12" amp I had just scored was just purring pure soul. My 6L6 tubes were glowing and pulsating a marvelous out of this world blue halo aura of some sorts. The crowd went nuts, and rushed the stage. Girls were screaming, yelling and going nuts over us just like the Beatles. Now this is a mixture of white guys, and black guys in the pre-civil rights act of 1967. It didn’ t matter to anyone, as the crowd just jacked us up to turbo level. Then TC nodded for me to take a solo. To this day, I don’t remember what I played, and only remember my Gibson 335 singing like a soulful bird with the thoughts of BB, Miles, Burrell and Coltrane in my head. A gift from a supernatural cosmic past that met me at this very moment in life to let me hang on, and experience nothing like I never felt again in my life playing a instrument. The crowd yelled and coaxed me on. I was in a la-la land never before felt. It was a fifth, sixth or seventh dimension of some sorts rarely visited by humans in a natural consciences. We ended the song with the crowd screaming and yelling for more. We then broke down into Stormy Monday, and gave them a taste of Bobby Bland, with Big John at his finest. This quieted the crowd down to a listening intently mode, as we were so smooth and right on, it is only too bad a live recording wasn't made for posterity. On ending of Stormy Monday, I instantly hit the descending chords to the beginning of James Brown song, “I’ll Go Crazy.” Again, with the crowd going nuts over us full bore. They would sing along with us when TC sang the words, "You got to live for you self, you self and nobody else." The adrenaline again shot back up on ten. We came off stage after our three songs, with the cheering and hooting of a thousand people yelling for more. It felt like walking on air. The other bands finished up, and now the judges came on stage. It was an applause meter contest. As the names of the bands were announced, there would be applause and cheers. Then our name was announced, and the crowd went absolute nuts yelling their butts off. We won the battle of the bands for the State of North Dakota by six lengths spread at least. Like winning the Super Bowl 59 to 3. The band became ecstatic as we were called back on stage to get our awards. It was a mystic evening of extreme adrenal flow, and total fulfillment as a musician. Our heads were filled with overwhelming emotions, that seemed uncontrollable by normal standards. We felt like no one on earth could have touched us on stage at that moment in time. It was such a thrill of a life time. The TV, Radio and Newspaper interviews came flowing in. Teddy had us booked all over the mid-west, and our fan following was growing fast. We played for an all black social club called, The Sit Luck Club, and Smokey Robinson’s cousin was there. After the show, he was talking to our manager, and they began negotiations for us to come down to Chicago and record. Also, the manager for Curtis Mayfield was there, and he wanted to record us too. As the talks were ongoing for a record deal, Don Grady had a family emergency, and was given a Hardship Discharge to go take care of his ailing father. We missed Don, were very sad, but we did find a new Airman who just arrived on base named Leroy Johnson who could sing higher than Smoky Robinson, and played super great piano. Pat Bergen also got his discharge, and went back home to Lansing, Michigan. Big John, brought in a new drummer we just called, “Nevilles.” Yes, he is cousin to Aaron Nevilles, and is part of the Neville Brothers Family. His New Orleans funky, left-handed drumming fit us just great. However, our recording date never materialized during our personnel changes. The talk was still there, but it never happened. We continued on for another year as, “The Jades.” Then Big John also received a hardship discharge. His father passed away, and his mom was all alone trying to raise his younger brothers and sisters. We all cried, hugged and said goodbye to our beloved friend, John Johnson – a true friend, and gentle giant. I only had a few months left in the USAF, and in September 1967, I bid fare thee well to TC, Leroy and Nevilles. I headed back home to California, only to find a bunch of hippies sitting down at concerts smoking weed, burning incense and listening to the most awful garage band sounding music I had ever heard in my life. I tried to get a group together, but California blacks had just burnt down Watts, and the Black Panthers were in full force. Whites and blacks didn’t socialize much now like when I was in high school. I did however play for Huey Newton’s birthday party, at San Diego State College in a little blues band I put together called "Hard Times." I didn’t even know who Huey was; it was just another gig to me. I later found out he was a main player in the Black Panthers. Like most blues band, gigs were few and far between, so you never turned any down. Besides working with blue legend, "Big Daddy Rucker," (Another Chapter for this story), I was in and out of bands for years, it took me up to the late seventies when I formed “Cruizin” which was an Oldies but Goodies band, and we played a lot of 60’s Soul and Rhythm and Blues. I also got my blues songs in the mix. We became very popular in San Diego, and played all the five star hotels for high rollers from 1979 to 1986 Then in 1987, I dropped out just sitting in with bands here and there. I was in Ken Shoppmeyer’s King Biscuit band for a while. Ken is a wizard on blues harp, and we had a great time. Wanting my own band again, I tried to get the guys from “Cruizin” back together. Our sax man Tommy Sesma passed away unexpectedly and Manny our bass player was in the hospital not doing well. My old childhood friend, from high school Victor Marquez and me were the only two left. I had a music store in the 1980’s, and kept a musician sign up sheet for guys looking for gigs. Actually, I scanned it all the time looking for blues musicians. Then around 1988, I went in my guitar shop, and glanced at the sign up sheet. The entry said; Len Rainey, From Chicago, just moved to town, played bass and blues. I almost ripped the phone off the wall, and called Len. Victor and I grabbed some old King Biscuit players, as Ken was always rotating musicians. I didn’t want to call the band “Cruizin” anymore, and changed the name to “The Cruize Brothers.” Thus the beginning of our landmark name and eventually with a top rated Blues Festival video on YouTube. I was also a staff writer on Jude Hibler’s Jazz Link magazine. I got press passes all the time, and I was given the assignment to cover Ingrid Croce’s new nightclub in the Gas Lamp district of San Diego. Ingrid was the widow of the late Jim Croce, and her son was a fine jazz musician. My article was also reprinted in the San Diego Union-Tribune and Los Angles Times covering the club “Croce’s” and the Gas Lamp District, which I compared to Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Today 5th Avenue in San Diego is the hub of all entertainment including the San Diego Padres ball team. Around 1988 I was through some tough times, and backed out of the Cruise Brothers for a period of time. Len renamed the group Len Rainey and the Midnight Players. They are still a big name blues act in Southern California, with founding members Victor Marquez and Tony Matoian. Len Rainey and the Midnight Players became the house band at Croce’s, and I always had an invite to come sit in and play anytime I wanted. We had some great jams I'll never forget. Around 1990 I joined a famous black gospel group, “The Mighty Wings of Faith.” Talk about going back to your roots. This was as deep as it gets. We then formed the “The Brothers of Praise.” For a decade, I was into deep gospel full bore, and loving every minute of real deal inspired music. Our CD that I produced is still played on black gospel radio stations in California. In 2000, I started up “The Cruize Brothers” again. When I got the gig, Len, Victor, and Tony along with Roy and Dominic Enjambre, would join me as the Cruize Brothers. When Len got the gig, we would go as the Midnight Players. Then in 2005, I had the compunction to move back to the land of my ancestry. I packed up my family, some of my adult kids and grand kids and we moved to Arkansas. It took every last dime I had, but we are back in the real deal, down to earth folks that love God, the United States and The Blues. Like Brother Rabbit being tossed in the brier patch, I never felt more at home anywhere on earth. Being laughed at in grade school for my hillbilly accent, I was now talking to people that sounded just like me, blacks and whites alike. I was now readily able to find and eat Black Eyed Peas, Turnip Greens with Pepper Sauce, Fried Okra, Cornbread, Fried Cat Fish, Blackberry Cobbler and gallons of Sweet Tea endlessly. My first three years in Arkansas, I was out in my Bass Tracker boat on the Arkansas River fishing. I became a River Rat. As I'd be drifting along with current, I couldn't help but think about Huck-Fin and Big Jim floating along on a raft along the Mississippi River, and I could hear Jerry Butler singing "Moon River" in the background. I loved it. We had a few family reunions, and as they say; “You can’t drive anywhere in Arkansas that you don’t pass one of my cousins or kin folk.” I played around with a few friends, and started a little coffee house band with my youngest son, Clay Dollins, until he had a chance on a great job in Wyoming. He is doing well, and breaks in horses for ranchers for extra money besides his full time job in a uranium mine making top dollar. I miss him, but he and his family are doing great. One day Jo Ann and I were in Hot Spring, Arkansas, a major tourist city, on our anniversary. I dropped her off at the outlet center, and said I was going back to a little music shop I saw. I walked in Hot Spring Music, and met Mr. Guido Ciardetti. We started talking guitars, Freddy King and blues for the next four hours non-stop until Jo Ann called, and was ready to be picked up. I learned that Guido played with Buddy Miles in Dallas, when he lived there before Buddy passed away. Later Guido came to my house, and we jammed for three hours, and he knew every Freddy King, Albert King and BB King song in my bag of tunes. He said he knew a drummer, Brad Messer, and I said we could get some gigs in Little Rock. Thus, the 2008 version of, “The Cruize Brothers,” was formed. We have Mike Fraz on keyboards, Greg Batterton on blues harp with us at times. Occasionally the incomparable Joe Pitts sits in with us when he is back off his European tours. We go out as a trio most of the time, and show case the big band when we get the money, time and space to do it. I am back on my game, and working with pro- level musicians again. When the big band is together, it is just remarkable to me, as I am back to the level I had in the first edition of Cruize Brothers and years ago in The Jades. TC Webb from the Jades, had found me this year surfing the net, and we had been talking on the phone about our old times in the USAF, and “The Jades.” TC stopped by once on his way through Little Rock, and we got a big hug, and reminisced about our time over 40 years ago winning the battle of the bands, and how close we came to fame. To end this story, Guido and I were in Dallas, Texas at Vintage Guitar Show this year. I called TC up, and we all met at the House of Blues, in Dallas. What a great reunion. With the fabulous TC Webb, and the current great bassist Guido, in the Cruize Brothers, sitting around talking old good times, I was in my element. On this Labor Day Weekend this year the Cruize Brothers, along with the Joe Pitts Band have the honor of opening the 2009 Spa City Blues Festival, in Hot Springs, Arkansas It doesn’t get much better than that, now does it?
TC Webb & Mike Dollins - The Fabulous Jades Reunion
Sonny "Sunshne" Payne with Mike at the Ozark Blues Festival 2007
Thank you to KASU for having us on Blue Monday this year, and a big thanks to Hairy Larry of Delta Boogie for recording us live, and streaming it on the Internet.
Hairy Larry's
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Check out Jimmy Wallace Guitars, if you're in the mood for a premium Gibson or Fender. Thanks Jimmy for keeping Jo Ann in prayer this year when she was in the hospital. You are a good friend, and class guy.
Our top radio show, that keeps the Cruize Brothers CD in their airplay mix every weekend, is the Pat Graham, Blues Highway on KLBC, Long Beach, in Southern California. Thanks Pat.
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Always on the look out for photos etc. of my bands over the years, let me know. Looking for the Caravans, Cruizin', Hard Times, King Biscuit, Cruize Brothers, and especially "The Jades." Talk to you later, Mike.