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Random Factors
3754 W 170th St
Torrance, CA, USA
90504-1204
I've had a love affair with Arizona all my life. I'm a third generation native of the place along with the Sweet Lady Wife, and we're proud to see our fifth generation of Arizoniacs growing up.
 We still have the family's brand, from the old ranch, and we still keep it registered.
Here's some songs and tall stories about a country that is all at once beautiful, unforgiving, laid-back, and harsh. Where everything out there in the desert wants to kill and eat you
and we get two hours worth of rain in about ten minutes (and if you don't like the rain, just cross the street: it ain't raining there). Where the sunsets are beyond gorgeous, and the sudden dust
storms can kill you. Where you can find all kinds of people and places, and where you really can go out where you're probably the only person for a hundred miles.
I've watched families of javelinas, mule deer and much other wildlife from the back porch of the family place in the "Sierry Petes," heard a bobcat scream off in the distance and found the tracks of
a mountain lion on my back trail.
I've sat so still the jackrabbits came up and sniffed me, curious as to what I was, and watched ospreys, bald eagles and red-tailed hawks soar over my head .... and then looked down and seen a
horned toad looking at me with solemn regard.
 I've sat with an old Hopi man, talking about the spirituality of music, and shared jokes with the Navajo.
They say that it's so dry that the grasshoppers carry canteens, and the migrating birds pack provisions to carry them over the Arizona desert. Why, there's even that poor frog over in Salome
who is seven years old and still hasn't learned how to swim .... and the ol' boy living down by Ajo who remarked to me that he'd sure like to see a rainstorm pretty soon, mostly so his twelve year
old son could at least see one at least once in his life.
But I have also seen the desert come into bloom after the winter rains, and there is very little that can compare to that astonishing beauty .... and a cloud with its hair caught on the tip of Picacho Peak.
'Course, that's only the southern half of the state. Drive up to the Rim Country (and the Mogollon Rim is a sight to see) and you'll be in the piney woods. Drive a little farther, and it's high
plains, where you can see it raining fifty miles away. That's Coconino County, and if you look hard enough, you just might see the ghosts of a mouse throwing a brick at a Kat .....
Make a sharp left, go thru Flagstaff to Williams, turn right and pretty soon you'll hit the Grand Canyon. Don't fall in, 'cause it's a LONG way down.
There's other places where you go in on horseback, with a guide. Motor vehicles and helicopters can't get there, and if you don't know the territory, you are very likely to never make it out again.
I wouldn't live anywhere else. And if you decide to move here, don't spoil it by trying to make it just like where you came from. It's different, and it should stay that way.
- Buffalo Gals ( Trad. )
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My father used to sing this one. For some reason it got all twisted up in my mind with a Plains Indian story about Buffalo Women, so I tend to see the dancing as a very
mystical round dance mixed up with square dancing. Fun to fool with on banjo, and a great tune to start off with.
The song dates to 1844 as "Lubly Fan Won't You Come Out Tonight?" by "Cool White and the Virginia Serenaders," a popular blackface minstrel troupe.
- Ride Back In Time (Paul Hendel ASCAP)
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I heard Paul sing this at the National Festival of the West, and simply had to have it. It reminds me so much of several people I have known .... including myself.
Gettin' old and stove up ain't for wimps.
- Ant Rustling In Arizona ( © 2001 W.J. Bethancourt III )
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They say that if you drink the water of the Hassayampa river here in Arizona, you'll never tell the truth again, but that's just a tall tale. Just because Arizona's champion liars happen
to live there don't mean nuthin'.
Some folks will tell you that the Hassayampa flows thru all places and all times, and after hiking it's shores, I believe it. Cousin Van and I hunt mammoths up around its headwaters every spring.
- Tyin' A Knot In The Devil's Tail (Gail Gardner 1917)
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I dearly love Prescott, Arizona, and this song is all tied up in it. Whiskey Row is still there, tho much smaller, and most of the bars are now shops
aimed at the tourists. If you look downhill on Montezuma St, you'll see the old railroad station at the bottom of the street. The Depot House bar (mentioned in the song) was kittycorner on
Montezuma.
Whiskey Row ran from the Courthouse Square all the way down Montezuma Street and then back up the other side. It was pretty wide open and rip roaring in its day. When Prescott burned down in
1900, they just set up Whiskey Row in tents on the Courthouse Square and continued on with life. The patrons of the Palace dragged the bar over to the Square too, which saved it. It's still at the Palace,
and still in business.
If you want to get a small glimpse of what the town was like in the Old West, when Doc Holliday himself gambled in the saloons on Montezuma Street, go see the Fourth of July Rodeo
and then spend Saturday night on Whiskey Row. It's amazing. Try not to laugh too hard at the tourists, tho.
Our family donated a mess of stuff to the Sharlot Hall Museum not too long ago. It's sure nice to see it on display there, showing the life of the Arizona pioneers.
The Sharlot Hall Museum puts on a nice Folk Festival every year in October, and I try to sing this one at least once when I'm there.
And if you want the best hamburger in the entire world, go to Kendall's on Cortez Street across from the Courthouse on the other side from Whiskey Row.
"Sandy Bob" was Bob Heckle, son of "Texas Bob" Heckle. "Buster Jig" (or "Jiggs") was the author himself, Gail Gardner. The lyrics have mutated a bit from the original, but that's the way traditional music works.
- Reedy River (Henry Lawson ca. 1896)
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One thing about the music of the Victorian Age that has always charmed me was its innocence, and the combination of that innocence with tragedy
in this song makes for a powerful statement indeed.
The author of the lyrics, Henry Lawson, was born in the Grenfell goldfields, in Australia, on June 17th, 1867.
He is one of the most famous and most popular of all Australian writers. His writings were a significant influence on the national identity and culture of Australia, and
his poetry and short stories are still widely read and republished to this day.
He died on September 2nd, 1922, but he remains one of Australia's defining and major poets.
One of the marks of a good poet is that their work is universal. This wonderful song could easily have been composed in the American West, as it defines the homesteader's experience
as seen thru the eyes of the time.
- Battleship Of Maine (Trad.)
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The American soldier will find humor in the darndest places, and will make fun of himself at the slightest opportunity. This lovely little piece from our
short venture into Imperialism, the Spanish-American War, is dedicated to my good friends and companions in the 9th Memorial Cavalry.
It's also dedicated to "Bucky" O'Neill, one of our Arizona heroes from that war. He's got a nice statue in the Courthouse Square in Prescott.
We recorded this one with a Washburn guitar and an S.S. Stewart 5-string banjo, both made around the turn of the century and both gut-strung, to get the
"sound" you'd hear back then. Think of this one as an historical re-enactment piece.
- The Preacher And The Bear (words and music by Joe Arzonia ca. 1904)
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Normally credited to Joe Arzonia, the song was actually written by George Fairman (1881-1962) of Front Royal, Virginia. In 1955 Fairman wrote to Jim Walsh that in 1902 or 1903,
shortly after he composed it, he sold for $250 all rights to the song to Arzonia, owner of a cafe in which Fairman played piano, adding that songwriter Arthur Longbrake was a frequent patron of
that cafe. Longbrake, who established the Eclipse Music Company, shares credit with Arzonia on sheet music, which sold well when published by the Joe Morris Music Company.
I've recorded it with a fretless minstrel banjo of the kind used in the 1860s. It was made by my good friend Randy England, of Minstrel Boy Banjos in Phoenix AZ.
- More About Ant Rustling ( © 2001 W.J. Bethancourt III )
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Leave me alone. I have to live in this brain. You're only visiting.
- Better Quit Kickin' My Dawg Around (Carrie Bruggeman 1912)
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In 1912, Mrs. William Stark (Carrie Bruggeman) composed this little gem for Missouri Senator Champ Clark's hopeful but ultimately unsuccessful presidential campaign. An immediate hit, its
popularity waned as Clark's campaign died at the Convention. It hung on in the country music field as a novelty tune. My grandfather sang it for me a couple of times when I was a child.
The nominee was Woodrow Wilson, by the way.
- The Cowboy's Dream (Trad.)
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There've been all kinds of arguments about who wrote this one, and even about it's name. The usual version you hear was put together by the noted folklorist John Lomax, but
I've kinda picked and chosen from several others too. It dates to at least 1887, and might be earlier even than that. My father used to sing pieces of it.
- Rye Whiskey (Trad.)
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Drunk and Disorderly! This is probably the best song about it that I know.
Let's look at a couple of types in the local watering hole:
Got a fella over there who's sure making a noise ...
"Whee-OOP! I come to this country riding a lion, and whipping him over the head with a rattlesnake, and a wildcat under each arm! I use a cactus for a pillow! Two .45s on my hip; a two-gun
man and a very bad man, and I won't do to monkey with! Raised in the backwoods, suckled by a grizzly bear, nine rows of jaw teeth and holes punched for more, a double coat of hair and never
been curried! I got steel ribs, guts of cast iron and a barbed wire tail and I don't care where I drag it!"
And then there's that quiet fella giving the boaster the Hairy Eyeball from the other end of the bar. You look at him, and he don't look like much, kinda small built, but if you look closer you'll
see the headlight on his belt is the State Bull Riding Champion belt buckle. Those guys tend to be small and wiry, with really broad shoulders, and they are the toughest there are.
Talk softly and leave him strictly alone. He'll get tired of the boaster directly, punch him out and not even work up a sweat doing it.
We recorded this one with mouthbow, and then got a little creative with it. Sure gives the feeling of being cosmically, righteously and spectacularly drunk.
- Maggie (When You And I Were Young)
(Lyrics: George W. Johnson; Melody: J.C. Butterfield ca. 1866)
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Let's set the stage:
We are sitting in the parlor of a nice home in Prescott. The year is about 1900 or so, and the man of the house is singing a song to his wife. He's playing one of those nice Washburn guitars
that you can get mail-order. They are made by the Lyon & Healey company in Chicago, and this one is the new Model 1897.
They are in their 60s, and the white hair reflects the lights from the lamps as he plays. You can tell he loves her very much indeed. It could be their son, or perhaps grandson, coming in on second guitar.
The song has an interesting history:
Margaret (Maggie) Clark was born in Glanford township, Ontario, Canada in 1841.
George W. Johnson was a young school teacher when he met Maggie, who was then his pupil. Maggie and George fell in love and were later engaged. Maggie had tuberculosis, however,
and during one of his fiancee's more serious bouts with the illness, George walked to a nearby hill, overlooking a mill, and composed the lyrics to his song.
On October 21, 1864, George and Maggie were married. It is also around this time that George's poetry book, 'Maple Leaves', was published. It included his poem "When You And I Were
Young, Maggie."
Unfortunately, Maggie's health went downhill, and on May 12, 1865 she died of typhus. Her grave is in White Church Cemetery.
The following year, George worked with his friend J.C. Butterfield and set "When You and I Were Young, Maggie" to music. It was first sung by Maggie's sister Elizabeth, and ultimately
became a popular song all over the world, entering both the American Western tradition and the traditional Irish repetoire.
In 1917 George Washington Johnson joined his beloved Maggie.
- The Attitudinal Cat Rag ( © 2002 W.J. Bethancourt III )
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This little tune just sorta growed from a seed planted by Dave Van Ronk. It's got some funny little musical twists and turns to it. Dave liked it when he heard it.
I feel that ragtime sounds best on the sort of funky little guitar you'd hear in the houses of ill-fame, so that's what I'm using here.
Have you ever wondered about those snow shovels in the homes of native Arizonans?
They're for the Sailcats.
The Common Arizona Sailcat is a phenomenon peculiar to Arizona summers. See, they start out as common house cats, but .... cats have an
alarming tendency to run in front of moving cars, and this tends to get them flat in short order. They become Flatcats.
Now the sun in Arizona gets pretty hot, especially in the summer, and the air is DRY .... so it doesn't take long before the Flatcat dessicates into
a pretty dry pancake there on the concrete.
Then you can scrape 'em off the road with your snowshovel and sail 'em like FrisbeesTM.
Sailcats!
- The Gila River Elephants ( © 2001 W.J. Bethancourt III )
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There's a lot of little-known Arizona history out there. The experiment with flatboats on the Gila River by the U.S. Navy is not usually discussed by historians,
and it didn't get as much publicity as the Army's try with the camels. It's made for bad blood between the two services ever since. Some might consider this quite a
"windy," but would I lie to you?
- A Tragic Incident On The Trail (Trad.)
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Professor Binghamton Q. Codswallop, of the University of Southern Arizona at Bisbee, writes:
"The Tragic Accident genre of Cowboy music must not be overlooked. As in the Appalachian Mountain murder ballads, the emotional wrenching of the heart is both
theraputic and cathartic to the hard-living Western people. 'Little Joe The Wrangler,' 'Charlie Rutlage,' and the famous Arizona ballad 'Big Ed Got Et By A Steer' are other examples of the form."
"The well-known song 'A Tragic Incident On The Trail' is a prime example of the Tragic Accident Ballad. Short and to the point, it's authenticity is marked by the use of dialect viz. 'twiced' and
the irregular verb 'flanged,' here used in the now obsolete Past Unconquerable tense."
- Adelita (Trad.)
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This one dates to the Mexican Revolution and Pancho Villa, originating in Durango. The tune is a variant of the standard Luis Martz version, and the lyrics seem to have used his as a starting point, but then
the "folk process" took over and, like such things do, it 'just growed.' It's got more verses than this, but these are pretty much the "standard" ones.
"Adelita" is a tribute to the brave women of the Mexican Revolution who followed their men into battle and in many cases fought alongside them. Frances Tour, in "A Treasury of Mexican
Folkways," says that she has been told by men who fought in Villa's army that Adelita actually existed. She says "Some girls of good family became soldaderas of their own accord, while
others were carried off by officers."
There's several rhythm patterns going here .... this style of music is much more complex than it appears on the surface!
¡Que gobierne un tirano jamás!
Here's the English translation:
Adelita's the name of the lady
Who was the mistress of all my pleasures here.
Never think I can come to forget her,
Nor to change her for any other dear.
If Adelita would take me for a husband,
If Adelita would only be my wife,
I would buy her a costume of satin
And I'd give her a taste of barracks life.
Now the trumpet to battle does call me
To fight as every valiant soldier should.
In the streets then the blood will be running
But 'twill never see me forget thee.
If perhaps I should die in the battle,
And my poor corpse be left upon the field,
Adelita, for God's sake I pray thee
For my death thou wilt shed but one tear.
Adelita's a desperate coquette
With deep green eyes, the color of the sea,
Who drives all the men to distraction
And makes them all weep bitterly.
Should Adelita run off with another,
I'd trail her always, forever, near and far,
Both in airplanes and ships of the navy,
And on land in a military train.
¡Mejor morir a pie que vivir a rodillas!
A fan writes:
"As I left for work I stopped to check the mail and there was a much anticipated pkg. My copy of Joe's new CD, " Ride Back in Time." When I got to work I popped it into my lap top and played it. You should have seen the look on my East Indian bosses' face when he stuck his head out of the office to find out what on earth was going on in the lobby. There was a choir of Mexican maids singing Adelita along with Joe's CD. They loved it!!! The maids now think I am just the best gringo in the whole place, since I actually listen to their folk music on purpose. I am going to have to buy another CD for my self and leave this copy for the maids when I leave. I wish I had had a camera to show Joe their faces as they listened and sang along with him to the music of their childhood. Maria, the head of housekeeping, had tears in her eyes and joy on her face. I do not know if Joe had any thoughts about the impact that song would have on the Mexicans living so far away from AZ when he included it, but as far as I am concerned, the rapt joy I saw in those women's faces makes the entire project worth his efforts. He touched their hearts profoundly by including that song. Made my day, that's for sure.".
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- A Border Affair (Charles Badger Clark, Jr., "Sun and Saddle Leather," Boston, 1915)
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Of all the songs and poetry about the Old West and cowboys, this one stands out as one of the best. "Lasca" probably comes next to mind, and then Mr. Clark's wonderful poem
"The Glory Trail." (known as "High Chin Bob" around these parts) Gotta set a tune to that one someday.
- The Minstrel Boy (Lyrics: Thomas Moore / Melody: "The Moreen" Trad Irish)
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Most people don't realize that quite a number of the folks out in the Old West were highly educated, and knew the classics. Shakespeare was always popular in the
little towns, and you just might have heard this one by Thomas Moore (1779-1852) in the parlors of the townies.
- We'll Meet Again ( 1939 - Ross Parker and Hughie Charles)
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One of the best songs of World War Two, it was sung by Vera Lynn in the movie of the same name. This goes out to the Greatest Generation, and I hope that
I and my children and grandchildren prove worthy of them. Thanks go out to all who served, and who still serve this wonderful country in our armed forces. We owe them
a debt that can never be repaid.
Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are .....
Photo by Karl Wolz
Wall top row: Weissenborn Hawaiian guitar, mouthbow, gourd banjo, Appalachian dulcimer, fretless mountain banjo, Minstrel Boy minstrel banjo
Wall bottom row: Giannini Craviola 12-string guitar, Michael Kelley Dragonfly mandolin, Ome long-neck 5-string banjo, S.S. Stewart Special Thorobred 5-string banjo,
Cort Parlor guitar, Washburn Model 1897 Parlor Guitar
Floor, left to right: Larivee LS-10 guitar, Deering Custom guitar-banjo, Taylor 714CE guitar, Ome XXX 5-string banjo, Goya G-30 classical guitar
INSTRUMENTS USED:
Guitars:
 Banjos:
Others
Produced by Joe Bethancourt / Dennis Putscher
Recorded at Digital Noise Studios, Phoenix, AZ
Photography by Karl Wolz
All instruments played by Joe Bethancourt unless otherwise noted.
Advice to Greenhorns
 Don't order quiche at the diner. Everyone will instantly know
that you're Not From Around Here. Eat your biscuits like God intended - with gravy. And
don't complain about the jalapeños, or they might exchange them for
habañeros just to watch you die.
Turn the damn water off when you are done with it. Water is scarce, and too valuble to waste.
Don't laugh at our Southern names ( Merleen, Bodine, Ovine, Luther Ray, Tammy
Lynn, Daria Beth, Inez, Billy Joe, Bobby Joe, Sissy, etc. ). If you laugh,
we will kick your butt.
We know our heritage. Most of us are more literate than you think
( Trimbull, Boze, Grey, Hillerman, Gardner, Bull, Card etc. ). We are also better educated and
generally a lot nicer. Don't refer to us as a bunch of hick cowboys, or we'll
kick your butt.
We are fully aware of how hot it is, so shut the hell up or we'll kick your butt.
Don't fake a Western dialect or wear a funny-color cowboy hat. This will incite a riot and you'll get your
butt kicked.
Don't mess with the cowboy hat. Ever.
Keep the place clean. Don't throw your damn trash out the window of your car, and DO NOT, EVER,
throw a lit cigarette out of your car window. We like our forests and deserts the way they are, not burned
to an ugly cinder or buried in your garbage..
Don't talk down to our Native American citizens. They're better educated than you are, are
probably laughing at you anyway, own most of the state, and they will kick your butt.
Don't talk down to our Spanish-speaking citizens either. We like them, they have been here longer
than anybody except the Indians, and their little sisters will kick your butt.
Yes, we know how to use proper English. We don't give a damn if you don't understand what
we are saying. All other Westerners understand what we are saying, and
that's all that matters. Now go away and leave us alone, or we'll kick your
butt.
The pictures in Arizona Highways are real. If you disparage our scenic beauty,
we'll kick your butt all the way back to where ever you came from.
Don't ridicule our Southern manners. We say "Sir" and "Ma'am". We hold
doors open for others. We offer our seats to old folks because such things
are expected of civilized people. Behave yourselves around our sweet little
gray-haired grandmothers or they'll kick some manners into your butt just
like they did ours.
Yes, a lot of us still carry pistols. And rifles and shotguns. Get over it.
Last, but not least, DO NOT DARE to come here and tell us how to cook
chili ( unless you are from Texas or New Mexico .... they're qualified to have an opinion ). This will get your butt shot ( right after it is kicked ).
Consider yourself lucky we let you come here at all. Criticize our chili and you will go home in a pine box. Minus your butt.
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