1967, Houston Texas.
The Neurotic Sheep and the American Blues are filling the Cellar every night; college
girls three deep on the cushions in front of the bandstand, a room full of shadow-people
behind them.
Rocky, Dusty and Frank are on and I'm on break, having a smoke on the sidewalk by the side
door, which bangs open and Charlie Mitchell walks out. Following him is a skinny,
blonde-haired kid wearing a seersucker jacket over a white shirt with a string tie.
"ArvEL, this is Darryll Welch," Charlie says, "I just met him, he's from
Louisiana, says he's a drummer."
"Hey, Darryll," I stuck out my hand and he shook it. "Whereabouts in
Louisiana?" I asked.
"Morgan City, man, I had to come see what's happenin' in the big town, man"
"Well, if you're a good drummer, you're in the right place to find somebody who needs
one" I told him.
We heard the American Blues cranking up their break song, so we walked inside and that
ended my initial meeting with Darryll Welch.
I didn't see him again for a week or so and then I walked in one night and there he is
playing early set with Toby Henderson. He was playing kick-ass drums for such a skinny
little guy and I stood and listened for a minute, then Charlie came up beside me and said
"Kid plays pretty good, don't he? Crump's already give him a name, calls him Hatchet
Ass!"
"If Crump gave him a nickname already, he must be good" I said. From then until
his untimely death in a mid-70's auto accident between Lafayette and Morgan City, he was
known as "Hatchet", and he was a good friend of mine and of many others, both in
and outside the Cellar, starting with Charlie Mitchell and Randy Panda.
Billy Brow, Darryll "Hatchet" Welch,
Toby Henderson; 1967
Toby called this band "Childhood's End,"
referencing Arthur C. Clarke's novel.
Hatchet was one of the finest
drummers ever to hit the Cellar; a natural talent, an intricate player. Everybody noticed
his abilities and he had no shortage of job offers. Many, though, could not take his
offstage antics. In his daily life, Hatchet was very much the "crazy cajun".
Mostly good-humored, but he tended to push the envelope just a bit too much, as in this
exmple:
Lubbock, Texas. Hatchet is driving this old big-tailfin chrysler, with Charlie Mitchell
riding shotgun and Randy Panda in the back seat. Hatchet's been drinking a bit and he runs
a red light. Looking frantically around to see if a cop saw him, he turns sharply into the
parking lot of a Gibson's Discount store and heads for the space between two parked cars.
"You can't make it, Hatchet," Charlie yells, "It's too narrow!"
"Yeah I can, man" Hatchet says, and ploughs through the space, scraping loudly
on both sides.
Randy leans over the seat, snatches the keys from the ignition and says "That's
it!" As the car rolls to a stop, Randy gets out, opens the front door, grabs Hatchet,
tosses him in the back seat and slides under the wheel. "We best be outa here,"
he says and makes it so. Charlie says he's amazed that they didn't get pulled over, but
Hatchet was laughing his ass off in the back seat, saying "See, man, I told you I
could make it! Like I said, lot of folks couldn't take it.
Hatchet and I, along with my Brother Mark, shared a house for a couple of years and
Hatchet was our drummer in Texas Wildlife (an endangered species) six nights a week for
the last year in the Dallas Cellar, where we played 30-some-odd original songs, saw
Johnny Carroll get shot, played behind him for his show set and played the last set of the
last night, as they started loading up the truck at the back door.
One of those nights, during a set, I noticed a guy sitting on the cushions with his back
against the pillar, something I remembered doing in the Houston Cellar when I was high and
hearing some good players. 'He's a guitar player' I thought to myself. When our set ended,
Hatchet leaned down and said "See that guy sittin' against the post? He's Stevie
Vaughn, Jimmie's little brother, but he's a better guitar player."
"Better than Jimmie? He must be good," I said. Later, I wished I had walked out
there and talked with him, but I just went on out and got high.
Hatchet played with Delbert McClinton and Bruce Channel for a while, and Delbert took him
to Los Angeles to play drums on his first album. Hatchet and Charlie Stevens kept getting
at odds with each other, there in Paramount studio A, though, and Delbert got frustrated
and went to New York and re-recorded everything with other players. A shame, because I
went to some of those Paramount sessions and they cut some hot tracks. Even Earl McGrath,
president of Rolling Stone Records, and Ahmet Ertegun, president of Atlantic, thought so.
I met them both, there at Paramount at one of Delbert's sessions.
There are a number of good stories about Hatchet's exploits. Maybe some of you who
remember him will send me some and I'll add them to this piece. I know my brother Mark has
one; something to do with a naked three-year-old. A three-year-old what? I'll let Mark
tell it. WATCH THIS SPACE FOR MORE!
Here's MORE:
How "Hatchet" got his handle.
Dan Bazer, aka "Stretch," the white, kitchen-African-American in the Houston
Cellar, says:
"Hatchet, Gene Matthews and Toby Henderson had been down in Galveston drinking and
swimming. On the way back they ran out of gas. Hatchet was passed out, naked, in the back
of the station wagon. A Galveston County Mountie came by and busted him, took him to jail
for indecency and being drunk in public. That night the Cellar was short a band (lacked a
drummer) so Crump had me go to Galveston and get Hatchet out of jail so we could make up
another group. So Crump has Toby Henderson, Fat Ronnie and Darryl Welch, and he gets on
the PA and says
"alright ladies and gents, here they are, Lard Ass, Fat Ass and Hatchet Ass."
And the name stuck."
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©2006ArvEL
Jr. Stricklin