Author Talk: Jimmy McDonough on honky-tonk legend Gary Stewart

360°Sound had the opportunity to attend a conversation between Texas-based writer Joe Nick Patoski and Jimmy McDonough, author of the new biography, Gary Stewart: I Am From the Honky Tonks, on April 14 at Waterloo Records in Austin, Texas. Patoski opened the discussion by talking about a piece he wrote on country singer-songwriter Gary Stewart for Rolling Stone in 1976. The first line of that story contained a comment from Stewart: “I am from the honky tonks.” Fifty years later, this quote would serve as the subtitle of McDonough’s 544-page book.

“Reading this book, I realized Gary Stewart lived it,” Patoski told the rapt audience at Waterloo Records. “He was not just from the honky tonks. He was the honky tonks.” Over the next 45 minutes, McDonough shared fascinating stories of the wild, outlaw life of the brilliant yet underappreciated Kentucky-born singer, songwriter, and musician.

Stewart rose to fame in the mid-’70s with a run of hits, including “Drinkin’ Thing,” “Out of Hand,” and the chart-topper “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles),” which is my all-time favorite country song title. Stewart’s career was hampered by substance abuse for much of the ‘80s before he made a comeback with the 1988 album Brand New. In his later years, the “King of Honky Tonk” found a dedicated fan base in Texas, playing numerous dance halls and dive bars throughout the Lone Star State. Stewart died by suicide in 2003 at the age of 59 following the death of his wife, Mary Lou.

Jimmy McDonough befriended Stewart in the ‘80s and profiled him for the Village Voice, his first published piece. McDonough went on to write eight biographies, including works on Neil Young, Tammy Wynette, and Al Green. Gary Stewart: I Am From the Honky Tonks is McDonough’s final biography. “This one checked all the boxes,” he said at Waterloo. “I can’t go through it again…I came in with Gary. I’m going out with Gary.”

Here are some highlights, edited for length and clarity, from McDonough’s discussion with Patoski:

On choosing to write his final biography on Gary Stewart…

Jimmy McDonough: I was just a young buck living in Hoboken, New Jersey, and I loved sad, intense songs. I sought this out. A friend of mine, Dale Lawrence, who was in the band The Gizmos, knew a lot about music, and I didn’t. He’d play me stuff and educate me. He said, “Why don’t you check out Gary Stewart?” He played me, “I Had to Get Drunk Last Night.” Something about the ‘70s production grated on me a bit. I didn’t quite get it. But I felt there was something about it that spoke to me. So I started listening to the records, and I’m blown away.

Gary Stewart threw himself into a song like a guy jumping out of a plane without a parachute. There was total abandon in his music, very extreme, very intense. And that was upped a notch when I saw him live a year or so later. This was not a typical country performance. It sounded like he was being backed by Crazy Horse. It was much more rock ‘n’ roll and extreme. And I just thought, “I got to find out about this guy.”

This was my first published profile for the Village Voice, and I started calling people. Everybody’s like, “Gary Stewart, forget it, living in a trailer. The windows are blacked out. He’s doing copious amounts of drugs. He could give a shit about his career.” One person said, “He’s living in that trailer like Count Chocula, and he don’t want to be found!” I said, “Oh, really? Give me the number.”

I called Gary, and we hit it off over music. I asked him for an interview, and it was like I had asked him to get a colonoscopy. He was not excited at all. He said, “Well, son, I tell you what, if you find me this record by Wild Bill Emerson, Harlan County Highway, I will give you your interview. Bye.” I’m sure he thought that was the last time he’d hear from me. I found the record within seven days. I called him and said, “Gary, I got the record, and I’m delivering it myself.”

I went down to Florida on the Greyhound bus, and Gary and Mary Lou were standing there, the two palest people. They look like extras from Night of the Living Dead. When I say they were living in this trailer, they were like fully embedded, so they were kind of twitchy. I just felt a kinship. Gary started playing records, and I realized he was the most no-bullshit guy. You listen to his music, and you can tell this. It’s 1,000% real. That’s how he was in the flesh.

Even though I had no training as a writer, he realized I had an authentic passion for his music, and he responded to that. It was the greatest time in my life. He would just lord over me as I stood there as a little nerd with the tape recorder. I’d mention a song like “In the Pines,” and he’d whip around with the guitar and play it in my face. It was not an experience I’ve ever forgotten. This was 37 years ago.

On Stewart’s personality and addiction struggles…

I don’t want to portray him as morose. If you listen to the vocal of “Ten Years of This,” he’s up and down like a roller coaster. That was Gary. When I was in the house, he’d play music, and it was unbelievable. He would do these medleys. Usually, medleys make my skin crawl, but he would just power through these things and use bits and pieces of all the songs and jump from one to the other. It was exhilarating. And he looked at my tape recorder, almost like “Casey at the Bat.” It was like, “I’m going to leave one for posterity, and you are going to feel it.” And he did. It was like Houdini or something.

He was a tormented guy. Somebody in the book compares his drug use to that of Keith Richards, saying Richards is an amateur compared to Gary Stewart. You will find plenty of evidence in this book. He had a car wreck around 1980 and got into pain pills, and his friends said it was never the same. There’s an intensity to the Stewarts. There’s a tragic, gothic sense. And that’s not anything I’m imposing on them. You would feel it being around them. In fact, Terry Porter, Gary’s right-hand man and best friend at the end of his days, said they were worried about Gary committing suicide. His sister was just matter-of-fact: “Well, yeah, that’s how us Stewarts do things.”

On Stewart’s musical ability…

He was a great guitar player. He was a ferocious piano player in the style of Jerry Lee Lewis. There’s a song by Merle Haggard called “I Can’t Be Myself When I’m With You.” He’d say to me, “Jimmy, I used to do that on the road, and it was really good.” It drove me crazy. He’d taunt me. He’d say, “Maybe I’ll play it on the piano someday.” I never got to hear him do this song. That’s the thing about this guy. He tossed songs like a jewel thief scattering diamonds out of a getaway car window. He didn’t really care about what happened to it. He just wanted to do it and have it exist.

He was a hellacious singer with an incredible range, and the best performer bar none I’ve ever seen. He’d say things like, “I played pop, I played country, I played blues, I am everything.” And you know what? He lived up to the boast. A lot of people talk about country-rock. What they’re really talking about are rock guys who can dip their toe in the country to make it palatable enough for rock fans, in my opinion. Gary was country through and through. He was rock through and through. He was bluegrass. He could do it all. It was unbelievable.

Click here to purchase a hardcover copy of ‘Gary Stewart: I Am from the Honky-Tonks.’