Hensley farms

On our tour, each show day began with breakfast in Hosty and concluded with Bus Call, when we were delivered to the Venue, where we moved into our quarters and waited for the words which would officially begin our workday…

I’ve mentioned the era when I had the house trio at the Embers nightclub in Indianapolis. The traditional booking there was a singer and a comic. When my services weren’t required—when the singer brought in backing musicians, for example, I…

In the summer of 1963 I hit the road for the first time, playing state fairs around the midwest as the pianist with the Warran Covington Orchestra. Warren had bought the Tommy name and library, and the shows, which were…

Today is National Disk Jockey Day, for no good reason. Many of my friends are revealing their shameful pasts behind the microphone, and I am no exception. 

When I was entering high school, the Bloomington radio station WTTS was the…

Interview me? 

I did my first interview back In the last century, in 1967, for the late, lamented Village Voice. That was a pretty hip publication back those days, and I thought it was cool that they wanted to…

I'm doing some updating to this site, so I'll apologize if anything wrong happens. I'm working on it now, so stuff might slip through unedited. But I'll get it right eventually. A lot is changing.

Meanwhile, I'd like to tell…

When I lived in Indiana, way back in the last century, my friend (and NEA Jazz Master) Jamey Aebersold would occasionally invite me down to Louisville to accompany some visiting jazz dignitaries. Pictured here is a flyer for such an…

My college degree is in the field of radio and television. That’s what they called it then. It’s now the Media School, but it still authorizes me to operate the remote control whenever necessary. 

At the beginning of my…

In the early 70s I was playing at the Troubador with Helen Reddy. Between sets I was hiking up the stairs to the dressing room when someone grabbed me from behind. It was Kris Kristofferson, and he gave me a…

Ater the holiday I'm remembering a lot of Fourths of July from my checkered past. Here are a few. May the Fourths Be Witchoo

1957 or so—I played at the Bloomington (Indiana) Country Club. It was an unpleasant evening…