out. I remember, they'd get to fighting and knocking one another down, and people stood up and went to the side of the wall, and they'd just let 'em fight it out. After a while, the bouncers would drag 'em on out, the best they could. We've weeded out a lot of troublemakers over the years. I think they respect the Broken Spoke so much anymore when they come here that they behave theirselves.
"It's more of a dance hall. When you get the rough places, I call them roadhouses. A roadhouse, maybe that might be a little rougher. We used to have a band years ago, and when they'd play here, they'd get the kids in here, and I think the young, they'd get to fighting with or over their girlfriends. If you let them over the pool table . . . we don't let 'em gamble, but I figure it's mainly over women. You know how that goes. That's true of the honkytonk. They might get in a fight with their friend, and the next minute they're over there buying each other a beer. If it's a fair fight, ok. But if it gets too rough, the way it is nowadays, you don't want to let anything get started because it's harder to stop. All in all, we're real fortunate not to have any problems out here.
"Back when beer was two bits a bottle, it was a lot hard er. I didn't have any air conditioning, and they worked hard all day, they got hot, and they wanted to drink that beer as fast as they could. You figure four beers for a dollar, hell, you couldn't afford not to get drunk."
White's greatest memories are reserved for the heroes of another time—Bob Wills, Tubb, Tex Ritter, Roy Acuff—all now deceased but all featured prominently on his walls.
"When I grew up, Bob Wills was a living legend," he says. "I booked Bob Wills in 1966 and '67 and '68. I was bartender at the time. I used to work . . . seven days a week just so I could get this place paid for. I did the cleanup—whatever it took, I did it. I told the old drunks at the bar, 'I'm going to have Bob Wills here,' and they all said: 'Aw, hell, he won't show up. He'll be drunk. He's well known for not showing up.'
"He opened up the front door; he was by himself, had his fiddle on his arm and his cigar. He had his cowboy hat on. Boy, they were whispering, 'There's Bob Wills, there he is,' and that's one of my most memorable moments. Get out and meet Bob Wills, and he was the first big star who walked on the stage of the Broken Spoke. I'll always remember it. Later on, back in '68, I'd book just him and 'Tag' Lambert. About that time Tommy Duncan was on his own. I'd book him also and get a band to back him up. Bob Wills couldn't have been nicer to me and more polite. I was in awe. I was twenty-six years old at the time, and it was a big thrill just to have him here.
"Ernest [Tubb], he'd come up and tell me, 'Keep it country, James,' or 'Keep it country, boy.' I'd book him about three times a year out here, and then another one I got to book one time was my childhood hero, Tex Ritter, and I remember when I was a kid I went down to the Capitol Theater on Sixth Street, which is no longer there, and we got to see Tex Ritter ride out on his horse and rear up and shoot the gun, you know. I got a picture of Tex up there singing on our bandstand. He'd sing that 'Rye Whiskey,' you know, and he'd fall out of the chair, he'd get so drunk. 'If the ocean was whiskey and I was a duck,' he'd hiccup, and then he'd fall out of the chair. 'Rye Whiskey,' he said, at first it was called 'Jack of Diamonds.' They changed it to 'Rye Whiskey.' They kicked it around a lot before they called it 'Hillbilly Heaven,' 'cause they didn't want to use the word hillbilly .
"I got to book Roy Acuff, and his last tour had a stop right here at the Broken Spoke. He went from Nashville to Disneyland to the Broken Spoke then back to Nashville. Then he kind of stayed up there in Nashville for the rest of his life. He was a nice guy. He came up and said, 'Well, when's the opening band going to start?' and I said, 'Well, you're the only one I've got
"It's more of a dance hall. When you get the rough places, I call them roadhouses. A roadhouse, maybe that might be a little rougher. We used to have a band years ago, and when they'd play here, they'd get the kids in here, and I think the young, they'd get to fighting with or over their girlfriends. If you let them over the pool table . . . we don't let 'em gamble, but I figure it's mainly over women. You know how that goes. That's true of the honkytonk. They might get in a fight with their friend, and the next minute they're over there buying each other a beer. If it's a fair fight, ok. But if it gets too rough, the way it is nowadays, you don't want to let anything get started because it's harder to stop. All in all, we're real fortunate not to have any problems out here.
"Back when beer was two bits a bottle, it was a lot hard er. I didn't have any air conditioning, and they worked hard all day, they got hot, and they wanted to drink that beer as fast as they could. You figure four beers for a dollar, hell, you couldn't afford not to get drunk."
White's greatest memories are reserved for the heroes of another time—Bob Wills, Tubb, Tex Ritter, Roy Acuff—all now deceased but all featured prominently on his walls.
"When I grew up, Bob Wills was a living legend," he says. "I booked Bob Wills in 1966 and '67 and '68. I was bartender at the time. I used to work . . . seven days a week just so I could get this place paid for. I did the cleanup—whatever it took, I did it. I told the old drunks at the bar, 'I'm going to have Bob Wills here,' and they all said: 'Aw, hell, he won't show up. He'll be drunk. He's well known for not showing up.'
"He opened up the front door; he was by himself, had his fiddle on his arm and his cigar. He had his cowboy hat on. Boy, they were whispering, 'There's Bob Wills, there he is,' and that's one of my most memorable moments. Get out and meet Bob Wills, and he was the first big star who walked on the stage of the Broken Spoke. I'll always remember it. Later on, back in '68, I'd book just him and 'Tag' Lambert. About that time Tommy Duncan was on his own. I'd book him also and get a band to back him up. Bob Wills couldn't have been nicer to me and more polite. I was in awe. I was twenty-six years old at the time, and it was a big thrill just to have him here.
"Ernest [Tubb], he'd come up and tell me, 'Keep it country, James,' or 'Keep it country, boy.' I'd book him about three times a year out here, and then another one I got to book one time was my childhood hero, Tex Ritter, and I remember when I was a kid I went down to the Capitol Theater on Sixth Street, which is no longer there, and we got to see Tex Ritter ride out on his horse and rear up and shoot the gun, you know. I got a picture of Tex up there singing on our bandstand. He'd sing that 'Rye Whiskey,' you know, and he'd fall out of the chair, he'd get so drunk. 'If the ocean was whiskey and I was a duck,' he'd hiccup, and then he'd fall out of the chair. 'Rye Whiskey,' he said, at first it was called 'Jack of Diamonds.' They changed it to 'Rye Whiskey.' They kicked it around a lot before they called it 'Hillbilly Heaven,' 'cause they didn't want to use the word hillbilly .
"I got to book Roy Acuff, and his last tour had a stop right here at the Broken Spoke. He went from Nashville to Disneyland to the Broken Spoke then back to Nashville. Then he kind of stayed up there in Nashville for the rest of his life. He was a nice guy. He came up and said, 'Well, when's the opening band going to start?' and I said, 'Well, you're the only one I've got