POPS INTERVIEW

If he hasn't sat in with your band, consider yourself ill-fated. He's the man that people walk across streets and crowded rooms just to shake hands with; the only man that can claim to be the living definition of the city he so appropriately inhabits. Any dictionary so bold as to venture a definition of Denton without crediting it "the twenty-five year home of Pops Carter" would be grounds for book burning. Pops Carter is Denton and on June 6, he will celebrate his 77th birthday with a party hosted by his friends at aTJs. The month of June also brings the release of Pops Carter and The Funkmonsters' long awaited follow up to their 1993 self-titled debut CD. The Grind spent an hour with Pops Carter to talk about the album of all new material and his more than three quarters of a century living and singing the blues.

The Grind: You were born on June 6, 1919 in Shreveport, What's your biggest memory of your childhood there?

Pops Carter: My biggest memoryy growing up in Shreveport is cotton. I picked so much cotton I ran away from home. My daddy had me out there picking cotton. Hell., I couldn't pick no cotton no how, I was too sleepyheaded, I'd be draggin' a big cotton sack and I'd make it about middleways to the field, and them rows looked like they'd go from here to Houston....I'd be laying up in the middle of the field, you know, laying up there on my cotton sack sleeping. My Daddy used to come down and whoop my butt.

G: How many times did he have to do that?

PC: Not many times. I got enough of that and run off' on my own, shit. I left. I ran off from home, I wasn't ready for that.

G: What age were you?

PC: I guess I was a little over fourteen years old. I had an Auntie and an Uncle that lived in Houston. I was crazy about them anyway. She seemed more like my mother than my mother did because she always let me get away with things.

G: What was your mother like?

PC: Well, she was beautiful. A beautiful mother -- as much as I can remember [from] when I was there because she died after I left, you know. Her and my father both died.

G: How old were you when she passed away?

PC: About fourteen years old. That's when I started my first band. I went to Houston, I was a little over fourteen years old and my Auntie and Uncle put me in a school. I went to school and I'd throw papers everyday after school. In Fairport. Everybody knows Fairport. That's the roughest town in Houston -- back then. Idon't know how it is now, its been years since I've been back. Fourteen years old, I had a twelve piece band ....me andanother kid were playing together, us two. His name was Robert Albertson. I played lead and sung and he played drums.<</p>

G: What first attracted you to music?

PC: My whole family were musicians. My Dad and my Mother, all my inlaws were musicians, my brothers .... They played country stuff. My daddy made his firstguitar out of a cigar box and he used this nylon thread, that's what he used for strings. And back then they didn't know what drums were, they used these number four and number two tubs for drums and a big gallon bucket -- that was the cymbals and stuff. They didn't know about drums like they know now. They didn't have nothing electric back then, didn't know nothing about electric back then.

G: And your father lived in Shreveport his whole life?

PC: My mother and father lived there. He had a little cotton farm.

G: He was a sharecropper, right?

PC: No, he had his own farm. He did sharecrop when all his cotton was out, he'd go and help other people, you know. But he made sure his was out first. When he got all his cotton together and carried it to the gin and got it all sold, he'd go help other people. Cause sometimes their cotton was a little later than others. And they'd be late getting it out and he'd go hire us out to help pick their cotton. That wasn't for me. That wasn't for me, cause I figured my hand was for something else instead of cotton picking.

G: When did your father start you into it?

PC: Oh I guess I was about ten. Ten years old.

G: So you ran away from home and went to Houston to stay with your Aunt and Uncle, What happened in Houston?

PC: I ran up on this kid, he was throwing papers too He could play drums. And I know I could play gintar and sing. We got to talking~ "Yeah, man, we could get on the streets" We'd get on the streets like on Wednesday. Thursday and Friday night in front of these clubs, man. We'd have more people outside than inside. The man got jealous of us.

G: Do you remember your first big show?

PC: My first big show was at the Longhorn Bar Room with a ten piece band.

G: You were a teenager during the depression ....

PC: Yeah (long silence) I tell you, it was a good life. Exerythmg was cheap, you didn't have to worry about -- you could get food, whatever you w::nt you could get for little or nothtng back then. It ain't like now. There wasn't no taxes on nothing. They didn't know about taxes and all that shit, you know. You could go buy as much as you want of anything, didn't cost. If it cost you a dollar or something now to get a sandwich, a hamburger was ten cents back then. Fifteen cents, the most, back then.

G: When was the first time you made money from playing music?

PC: The first time I made money was when me and this kid got together and we played for a school play. I think we made about a hundred dollars a piece.

G: Did you freak out when you realized you could make money off of it?

PC: No I didn't freak out about it, I just, I guess I was too busy enjoying myself. I've been doing this for a long time. I'm not so worried about money now. If people want to pay me, fine, if they don't, you know. If I can do them a favor, I'll do it. That's like TJs -- I don't get paid over there but anytime he needs a band, I'll go in there and he'll say, "Pops, I need you to play, can you play for me?" I say, "Yeah," and I go and play for him.

G: What do you remember from being a young man during WWlI? When you were twenty years old in 1939 ....

PC: Twenty years old, I was playing down in Sugarland. I played for the prison down in Sugarland. That was. boy, that was real crazy! Cause them people are crazy. We got down there [and] the first time we played there for them, we couldn't see nobody. There wasn't nobody nowhere. This place we were playing' was kind of in the woods, you know. My guitar player was tuning up the guitar and man we looked out there and those sumbitches! They were a bunch of cows! You know how you throw out hay and a bunch of cows start to come around -- that's what they were...And before we ever got started playing, that place was running over with people waiting on us to play for them. And the lead guitar player was just tuning up his fuckin' gintar, man! Boy, that was funny, man, you know!

G: What was your band called then?

PC: It was called Little Milton and The Rockets, I think.

G: What about 1945, when the war ended, where were you?

PC: I think I was still in Houston at that time, but, I don't know if it was that date or not -- we went on tour. That was my first tour. I think it was somewhere along in there. We went to Austin, we went to California, and we went to Mexico, we went all around, man.

G: What was California like in the 1940s for a blues band from Texas?

PC: Just like it is now. I couldn't hardly sing when I was down there cause I thought the world was gonna sink. They had a lot of earthquakes down there around that time. But we had a real good time down there. Then we went to New York. Now that was beautiful. I can't recall the name of the clubs, we went to a whole bunch of places. We played at some parties, we played house parties. Boy, we played everywhere down there. We had a real good time, everybody was nice, man. I thought they were gonna be kind of rough cause I was a stranger.

G: What differences did you notice about the people up north and the people down south?

PC: There was a lot of skinheads and hippies there...but they partied like they were Americans, boy. They'd get up there and party, dance, hoppin' and skippin' and wrestling....But it didn't bother me -- I was up on the high stage -- they could fall around .all night as long as they didn't come up there and start fuckin' around. you know. We also went to Memphis too. That was good cause the first night I was out playing in B.B. King's club down there. He's got a two block long club....and I was so surprised when I went there, man. You don't see that in Texas. You got bars upstairs, you got bars downstairs....[BB. King] had bars on the sidewalk. The damn police sitting there drinking as much whiskey as me and you. Having fun, man! They'd be sitting out there drinking that beer and whiskey with everybody else. Enjoying themselves. 1 mean, the police! And that was on duty.

G: Did you see B.B. King?

PC: Sure. I sung with him. Yeah, at his place, I sung with him.

G: What was that like?

PC: Oh that was the happmst thing to me. that's the most thrilling thing that ever happened to me.

G: You were about thirty years old?

PC: Oh no, pretty close. Twenty five maybe.

G: What did B.B. King say to you?

PC: Oh, he told me to keep it up. He said you got a good voice, don't waste it for nothing. Which I do. He said, "Don't waste it for nothing -- Get paid for it. That time I sat in with him he paid me forty dollars, that was a whole lot of money back then. For me being twenty five years old.

G: What'd you do with the money?

PC: I took it and paid for my paper route because when I was on my route I'd take the money I'd be making and be [buying and] drinking soda water and shit. I'd take that money and put it back .... so they wouldn't think I was trying to rob them!~ you know....[That way] when it was kind of hot I could get me a big drink. Sometimes I could get me two of them and back then a big drink was a dollar. And I'd get two of them sumbitches. That's why them old boys in the company - sometimes fifteen, twenty, thirty dollars -- they ain't payin no attention when you're doing that shit. And I had to hurry, and place that money back before they started wanting to put me in jail. you know. I'd go out and play and make a little extra money and put that money back into the business, you know. But I had a lot of fun, though.

G: After all 'that touring you came back to Houston?

PC: Yeah, I ,started playing in these little all-night clubs here and yonder. Then later I startted doing mattinees. Sunday matinees. I'd go out and play two shows. I'd play a Sunday matinee and a Friday matinee. At about three o'clock I'd play the big gig and all the older people would be there. All the kids would be sent home. I played all over Houston.

G: I guess that lasted throughout the fifties?

PC: That lasted until I left. I left Houston in .... Let me see if I can remember. Oh, shit. I think it" was....seventy, seventy one, when I came to Denton. After we broke up, I got that job working construction with Holloway Construction. We'd be doing this dirt work out here in Grapevine.

G: What do you remember mostly about the sixties? Was it as crazy as we're always told?

PC: Yeah. It was crazy, man. There wasn't to much killing like it is now but it was crazy. A lot of people seemed like they were off their rocker, man, you know. They'd fight a lot, you know. But there wasn't a whole lot of killing while they were fighting.

G: Do you remember where you were when JFK and Martin Luther King Jr. were killed?

PC: I remember where I was when President Kennedy got killed. I was playing in the Third Ward. I can't think of the name of the street, its kind of like the street I'm living on here now' in Denton.

G: Ruth Street?

PC: Yeah, it had a Ruth something-or-other in it. That's when I met my wife, the same year Kennedy got killed. It might had been a day after. But it was close to the time he got killed. We got married in the courthouse down there. The big courthouse downtown ..... I moved back to the Fifth Ward after I got married. I didn't go hack to Louisiana until after my father died. I don't even remember what date that was. I wasn't there but five minutes. They buried him, everybody had to leave, I didn't stop until I got to the first exit back to Houston. My son lives down there in Louisiana. He's been trying to get me down there..He tells people his daddy's a musican. He wants me to get to play down there.

G: How many brothers and sisters did you have?

PC: I tell you, it was fourteen brothers and two sisters. There ain't but two living now. Me and my baby brother are the only two left.

G: Can you give me all their names?

PC: If I can -- if I still remember. One was named Robert Carter. one named Julius Carter, Willie Carter, Jessie Carter...and I can't think of the others. My sisters -- one was named Pauline and...I can't think of the other name. I'll tell you when I think it up. Pauline was my older sister. My other sister was named Samantha Carter.

G: What is your baby brother doing?

PC: He's a preacher now. In Houston. My son's m Lomslana, his name is Tommv Lee Carter. But he ain't there all the time cause he drives a truck...He's gone all the time. He's about forty nine now.

G: Do you ever see him?

PC: Yeah. he comes by sometimes. Not very often because he's on the road all the time. Every chance he gets he runs by, if he's got time he'll spend the night or something.

G: Tell me about when you first came to Denton...

PC: I was down here during the winter. I guess I v, orkcd for....l don't know, a little over a re,ruth or t,*,o. But it was so bad. see, in the fall of the year and the insurance the,, had-- the5 'xouldn't let you run eqmpment I ti{mt care if it was just sprinkling, you had to slop. And [ ran the bulldozer and lhe scraper. And we were doing the dirt ~tork--v~e weren't doing the concrete v,,)rk--x,e ,xere doing the dirt work. Il-mt ~,pr~nkled a little bit. they wouldn't let you put that stuff out there. You know where Grapevine Is, don't you'? You knov, the airport they have in Grapevine--v,e did lhat dirt work. It wasn't too bad Long hours though cause .... Sometimes you worked ten, fifteen, twenty hours. You worked as long as you could see out there. Because they were supposed to start on time [but] they were late getting started and fall was coming in and the~ were trying to do all they could C': ~u worl~ed'tfirough the fall of that year?

PC: No, I didn't work all the way through, cause they wouldn't let us do a whole lot of wc, rk. Wc'd lust be out there and make eight hours. Just be out there. And I got tired of doing that ~,o I got mc a jab at la drugstore J I got a job out there--a custodian

G: What about the seventies? Where were you when Vietnam ended?

PC: Yeah. Vietnam. A wild time. (long silencel I remember Pearl Harbor. I remember whcn Pearl Harbor got bombed. I was ~x'orking, I was a cook at Rice Hotel Jn Houston I remember Pearl Harbor fine.

G: ~'hat was that like?

PC: Well, it was sad, man...They were over there having a meeting with the President and lat the same time} over there bombing Pearl Harbor.

G: What was America like at that time?

PC: To me. Amerzca was beautiful. I guess that's because 1 was young, you know, but everything was beautiful to me. Just like now, America is still beautiful to me. It hurt a lot of' people after that happened. After Pearl Harbor. It hurt a lot of people, man. It really hurt a lot of people. They're still mad about it. Every time they see a Jap they wanna fight. But they did it so shitty, is what I'm talking about. Hell, they were goin' and trying to have peace talks and they got the guys over there bombing. They didn't even know they were coming, man.

G: So you came 1970...When did come about? to Denton around The Funkmonsters

PC: Well, I used to sit in with The Funkmonsters. I used to come out here --for about a year, I didn't know nothing about this place for ab(:~t a year. I was a custodian at the college I worked at the building that used to be social sciences...but I never did get over here. I ran up on a guy that worked there, they called him Sergeant. This place was Benny's before it was The Library and a lady was running it. [Sergeant] said, "I got a band I play with from TWU. Man, why don't you come out sometime and sit in with them and sing with them '" 1 said, "Man, I'll think about lt. you know." One weekend, he came and got me. And so he told the guys -- they took a break -- he said, "Man, we got a good singer laere. His name is Tom Carter." After I got to staging around here a lot and everybody knew me, they said, "Pop, we're gonna give you a name. We're gonna call you Pop." And another guy said, "We're gonna call you Pops Carter." So they've been calling me Pops Carter ever since. But anyway, I went and sung with them that night. I think I sang about three songs with them and the lady that ran the place said, "Let him sing some more! Don't stop him! Don't quit now! Let him keep on singing!" Actually, I was the first one that brought blues to this town. When I first came out here, they weren't playing nothing but jazz. Every club you went to out here was jazz. You might run up on some place that played a little hard rock. I sung jazz for a while. I even got up and sung a little rap with a. guy....He's still around now, I can't think of his name. He was surprised. He said, "Pops, I thought you were too old for that! I didn't think you'd know that stuff!" I said. "Man, I was doin' it before you were born." I used to sit in with ~ry band that came to Denton. Back then, Crossroads and Bullwinkle's were big .... The Funkmonsters used to be Wonderbread and they changed and changed and back then when I sang with them, they couldn't play but one song and that was "The Thrill Is Gone." Chris (Tzacy) asked me, "Pops, how'd you like to join our band?" I said, "Yeah man....If you want me to sing, you learn my stuff. Let me teach you my stuff, my style of music, and I'd be glad to join your group."

G: What is your definition of the blues?

PC: Well, I don't know, man. I l~',e it so 'hard, I ~:ouldn't reaIi, say, man. All I can sa,, is "I love ii." I'm a dedicated musician. I'm a dedicated vocalist. I don't get up there and hall' to do anything -- I do it from what I've got. I do it from here. I can't read music, I can't write music, but I can tell you how to v. rite it ....

G: When is your new CD coming out?

PC: I would like fi~r it to be out for my birthday TJ*s is throwing it for me, on Thursda~ night. I'll be seventy seven years old.

G: Do you like the new stuff better than the first CD?

PC: I like the one that's coming t~ut better than the one I did [bcfore]. Ever)thing I'm doing on this one ~s new I've d~n~c this ,~nc in m~, head :md I'd get Chris t~ c~)mc t,~e~ and he'd write them. I'd hum ar~)und and tell him how thc).'re supposed t,, ?

G: The Funkmonsters were on vacation for a long time What were they doing?

PC: Actuall5, Claris ~as m Calift)n:~:t...He ~;rks ~ith cancer pauents. He couid be a d~,ctvr ii' he v, antc '. to. They come and ask him things, man I'm trying to get him to go back to school and get his medical degree

G: Who do you think is the greatest blues artist in America?

PC: B B. King. I guess because Iht'si my idol. I reckon. B.B. King's been my idol e~¢r ,ince I've been big enough to know ~ho hc ts

G: $~,hen was the first time you saw him?

PC: Oh. I was real young. The first I ever reall~ sa~ him and got close to him [was ',hen} he used to play in Louisiana. And that was b~-ft)re they built these clubs --thcx iiad t,) ha',e a great big tent and I a,,cd to sne:~.k up under that tent. And the first time i rcaIl? got know him..A'd sneak up under there and la2 on my belly, right behind the stage, watching. Me and anc)ther young kid. And this guy came up and talked to me one time, you know. They was on break ancl he eau? me about half asleep. I guess. Hc me around and saw mc up there, hc .rid, "Boy! What you dom'?! I'm gonna take 5ou to your mama's and they're gonna whoop your so-and-so..." About that time, B.B. King showed up: "Yeah, hey man, what's goin' on, what's the matter'?" He said, "This little boy's here and he ain't got no business in here." And [B.B. King} looked at me and he said, "Let him stay in here, I'll take care of him. He came to hear me anyway, let him stay." He put me a chair back on the stage right behind them and he said, "Young man, you sit right here and you get all the earful you want! You might be a musician one of these days." I sat there until it was all over....He came over there to where I was and he said, "Young man, where do you live'?" I told him and he carried me home.

G: B.B. King took you home?

PC: Oh yeah, sat there and talked to my mother and father....And told them, "You got a smart son, he's gonna be a musician one of these fuckin' days." (Laughs)

G: What did your parents say?

PC: They said, "Well, he loves music." Which -- I did love music cause I was born into music.

G: You had to be really young then .... nine, ten...

PC: Probably, close to that.

G: At that time, did you realize how great he was?

PC: I already -- l f~'lt how great he was. I really loved him, man, I really loved 121121 ....

G: Would you say that was the best moment of your life?

PC: That's the best moment of my life. Ever. I've seen a lot of other bands but that time-- that's the best moment of my li['e, i felt my life v. as worth living. I ti:ink about it now when I'm grown and old -- I still think about it. 1 ~:ill think about it right now. Sometimes that moment comes to me... sometimes I have the tv on and he comes on the tv and I think about that moment.

G: How long did he stay at your house?

PC: He stayed there about a couple of hours. He brought me home and I had to go to bed.

G: Were your parents surprised?

PC: Oh, yeah, they were surprised. I guess they'd say, "My only baby went out and found some important person! My older kids play all the time and they ain't found nothin' like this!"....Me and my baby brother were the only ones that were home. He was asleep, he was gone to bed. At six o'clock we had to put our ass to bed. Sometimes six to six we'd be out there in that field. We had to be out there doin' something even if it wasn't nothing but picking up sticks. We had to be out of that house -- il' you're left in that fuckin' bed, the old man would come and whoop your ass out of there, you know. (Laughs) He'd say, "You knorr' what time you're supposed to be up!" He'd colne in there [and] if you were still stretched ()ut -- if you're buck naked it's alright -- he'd go out there and get one of thetn fuckin' boards and board your ass until you do get ready. And stmletlmes he'd whoop your ass all the way to tire field. He whooped my ass many times all the way to the field and I thought I'd gut away and l'd go to slowing down, and he'd go, "Hiiiiiy{,~)~w! Get on up there in that field!!" And I'd be there, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!," holding that ass, you know! That ass would be smokin'!

G: When did music start paying the bills for you?

PC: Well, that started happemng after I got with The Funkmonsters....That's when it payed my bills t;t",' I had a lot of bills before I started Back then I got $200 dollars in Social Security. I worked at North Texas but [ didn't get no retirement. I don't know why everybod? else got retirement but I didn't. I don't know why. I even worked for the railroad and didn't get fio retirement.

G: What's the greatest lesson you've !earned in seventy-stven years?

PC: Well .... (long silence) My greatest lesson I learned: If you want to be treated nice. treat other people right. And the best way to have a good triend--Don't loan him no money. You could have the best friend in the world, but you loan him some mu. ney and when it comes down to paying it :ack, you find ()ut how big a friend you ge' You got an enemy .... And that causes problems. That's, ,xhv I get along so good ,xith i,eople. Cause I treat e',erybody like I ,,,,ant to be treated. And I carry myself in a ,aa,,' d~at they can respect me--that way I can respect them. I think that's why e,,erybody loves me out here. I'm not a "sometime" musician I'm the same every time you meet me...Don't get me wrong--every musician has a bad day. Only way he don't is if he's not a musician. Every mt:qcian has a bad day. But some of them ta!c it too bad. Some of them get mad wi h the `aorld. I have problems but I don't taL.' it out on nobod> else. They didn't gp.e me the problems, the,,'re my own.

G: Were you ever mad at the world?

PC: Not that I can remember

G: Not even what v~e mentioned earlier, like Pearl Harbor, or King or Kennedy...<</p>

PC: Yeah. t `aa-~ mad about that. Him --and that pre~,ident we had `aas the best president we ever had. You don't find thern no more. Nc,. 5t,u don't find them.

G: What do you think about America today, are we in better shape now or is it worse'.}

PC: Onl3 thing that'.,, ~n good shape now are the.',oun~'er= people. Fhe older people are just abuut the same. 'I't)ung people get more attention than older people now. That's ju-,t ma',be tthat} ~,e're too old to ,aorry about it. See, take like the benefits that old po,pie used to get, they're not getting them no mt,re. The young people are getting them. Old people nowadays ha~e tt~ fight thc best the,, can. They got to t'i~ht hard t~, keep themselves li,,ing. But I still t~,,,e thc United States.

G: V(hat's the secret to staying so young on the inside?

PC: I gao-,,, for me. be~,:~z acti,,e. Singing all thc time. you knov, I think my music's ~hat keeps me allxe. And people cny)';;ing it, I think that `alll keep me alive. That's the t>n},, thing I can sa', I tell them all that the gu?s that came along the same tinne I did, they're ali dead--I'm still here. I say the good lord-he keeps me here for something. I guess he keeps me here for something, I don't kno,a' ,a'hat, you know. G