Photo: Dee Moeller at Willie’s 4th of July Picnic.
Do angels really exist? I was about to find out – unequivocally – that angels do indeed walk the earth.
And if you’re lucky enough, one may grace you with her presence…
Dee Moeller
‘Waterbed’ Fred had introduced me to Dee and Larry Moeller. She was an accomplished singer/songwriter from Texas who played keyboards. I had heard the name, Dee Moeller, in Dallas, but had never had the pleasure of meeting her or experiencing her music. Evidently, they knew of the Bee’s Knees. And now they wanted to form a working band with me on drums. I accepted the offer.
“She Was a Party Girl” – Dee Moeller
Shortly thereafter, Dee called me and asked if I’d like to accompany Larry, Fred and her to a Willie Nelson concert that evening in Albuquerque. She insisted that everything was “on the house” and that they’d pick me up. How could I say no?
We arrived at Sweeny Center in Albuquerque and were considerably late – half the show had transpired! Larry drove us around to the rear of the concert hall and was stopped by a guard. A few words were spoken and we were motioned on. We drove by Willie’s two tour busses and headed for the backstage entrance. We were escorted into the backstage area without any delay. (I was starting to scratch my head.)
We watched the rest of the show from stage left. The crowd was quite animated and some women were actually throwing their underwear up on the stage. (Willie Nelson, a sex symbol? I guess so.) Willie finally thanked the audience for coming and he and the band left the stage. We had moved to the rear to let the bandmembers get by. But to my great surprise, they all crowded around Dee and Larry! (What the hell?)
Several paces away, Fred and I stood together watching. Willie was actually hugging Dee, who was glowing like an angel from heaven. I looked at Fred and demanded an explanation: “Oh. You didn’t know? Dee and Larry and Willie are like family.” All the while Waterbed Fred was grinning ear to ear. They had played me like a patsy, and I’m not talking Patsy Cline!
Willie and his band returned to the stage and played an encore. Meanwhile I was in a state of shock and disbelief. But the best was yet to come . . .
Within a half-an-hour, the four of us were sitting in Willie Nelson’s bus: On the Road Again.
His other bus, Me and Paul, was where most of the band traveled. (Paul English was Willie’s longtime drummer and friend.) Larry and Dee followed Willie to the rear of the bus, while Fred and I sat chatting with my old buddy, Mickey Raphael and Willie’s piano playing older sister, Bobbie. (It felt very satisfying introducing Mickey to Waterbed!)
Finally, Dee, Larry and Willie emerged from the back of the bus and Dee introduced Willie to Fred and me. I stood up and Willie approached me face-to-face – and I mean inches apart. “How ya doin,’ DC?” He whispered. Our eyes locked. “It’s an honor meeting you, Willie.” Looking into Willie Nelson’s soul was quite a thrill. But I had the distinct feeling that Dee had put him up to this unusual encounter. Who knows?
The big equipment trucks were being loaded and soon the whole kit-and-kaboodle would be driving straight to Denver. We, on the other hand, were headed for Santa Fe. And I had a lot of questions for Dee and Larry…
It turns out that Larry Allen Moeller, born in 1938, was the son of ‘Lucky’ Moeller, one of the first talent agents in Nashville. Lucky guided the careers of dozens of Country Music Hall of Famers. Larry went to work for his dad in the sixties, managing Willie, Waylon and Sammi Smith. In 1973 he moved his agency to Austin to concentrate on Willie’s Career. Well. there you have it!
Dee had written many songs covered by scores of entertainers including the song “Slow Movin’ Outlaw” made popular by Waylon Jennings. But Dee and Larry never talked about their many accomplishments or their famous friends; you had to pry it out of them. Two very modest and downright humble people, they were way above all that ego shit so pronounced in the music biz.
The Band
The Moellers had met David Gilliland, and hired him as our guitar man. David recommended bass player Steve Lindsay. I had played with both these guys with Family Lotus and other players. Larry was our sound man/manager. And right from the git-go it felt like family.
Steve Lindsay on bass.
One of our first gigs was at the Bull Ring. The restaurant/bar was right next door to the New Mexico State Capitol and across the street from the Oldest Church in America. A favorite haunt for politicians and celebrities, the place could get pretty wild.
We really tightened up there quickly. I found that Dee was a top-notch performer as well as a world class songwriter. She could belt out the dance songs, but sound like the angel she was on the ballads. Sometimes I’d just close my eyes and let her music transport me to that secret place in my mind where those sad memories reside. She actually brought me to tears more than once.
One evening Roger Miller strolled in. Suddenly it was a joyous reunion for Dee, Larry and Roger. Were we surprised? Hell, no. Just another reminder that we were working with honest-to-God celebrities. Long ago in Nashville – pre-stardom – Roger had slept on the Moeller’s couch. Larry had helped make Roger Miller a household name; and there were many more.
Of course, Roger sat-in that night and others. And later, he and I became drinking buddies. Chug-a-Lug, Chug-a-Lug! (You’ll hear more about ‘the King of the Road’ in later chapters.)
Kerrville
By late summer we were road worthy. So, it was off to the Kerrville Music Festival in the Texas Hill Country. Dee and Larry had gone ahead and a few days later, David, Steve and I loaded up my big Jeep Cherokee and headed for Texas.
“Don’t Let the Sun Go Down” – Dee Moeller
Jayebird and I had recently purchased a lovely house in Santa Fe, so I was a bit apprehensive about leaving her and Tait to fend for themselves. But absence makes the heart grow fonder. And anyways, Jaye needed a break from her “man-child” husband on a regular basis – to recuperate.
On the afternoon of the show, we were setting up in the wings. The act before our slot was Guy Clark, Rodney Crowel and his wife, Rosanne Cash. I chatted a bit with Rosanne, but Guy Clark was giving me the evil eye. Oh, I got the message alright. I smiled and wished them a good show. And an excellent show it was!
We were up next, so I helped move my drums into place when Dee introduced me to Rod Kennedy, the producer of the festival. “DC, he said, “could you possibly let the drummer for Eliza Gilkyson use your drums? They’re up after y’all. There’s a hundred dollars in it for you.” Of course, I said yes and shook his hand, and in it was a crisp 100-dollar bill.
Dee Moeller was presented to the crowd and they cheered affectionately. We played a wonderful set of Dee’s songs and she was at the top of her game! I was so proud of our little band.
David Gilliland: Lead guitar & background vocals.
David had already told me that Eliza Gilkyson was once his wife and the mother of his kids. She turned out to be a lovely woman with a great sense of humor. (By the way, they sounded great, and so did my drums.)
Later, we were at the hotel pool cooling off. The pool area was full of entertainers relaxing after a festive day. And then I noticed Rodney and Rosanne’s young son was struggling at the bottom of the pool. “Rodney!” I yelled. “Your kid’s in trouble!” I pointed to the deep end. We both dove in. Rodney, who was closer, got his son out quickly. And that was the grandson of Johnny Cash!
North to Dallas and beyond
The next night we played a one-niter at Poor David’s Pub on McKinney Street in Dallas. It was good to see my old friend, owner, David Card, and catch up on his plans to move the club over to lower Greenville Avenue.
Dee and DC at Poor David’s in Dallas.
The following day the boys and I paid my parents a visit and then we were off to Denton for a two-week gig at the Long Branch Saloon. I had played there in the old days and was looking forward to the concert club and its “listening crowd.”
One night on stage, Dee was introducing the band: “Put your hands together for David Gilliland on guitar, Steve Lindsay on bass, DC Duncan on drums, and my unhung sero, Larry Moeller, our sound man!” At first there was just a few snickers, then the crowd burst into laughter when Dee tried correcting herself: “Oh my! Did I say UN-HUNG SERO? I meant UNSUNG HERO.” (I didn’t say it, but I was thinking: “He’s your well-hung hero.” And so was everyone else.)
We all settled into our comfortable motel and relaxed. I think we did 5 nights a week and enjoyed every minute. Denton is a big college town and is known for its School of Music. And the folks really appreciated the band. Dee and Larry’s daughter, Pam, joined us and fell right in. We were really feeling like family – and I was probably considered the delinquent younger son. But I was on my best behavior while playing with the Moeller clan. (Didn’t want to tick off Ma and Pa!)
At the time I was reading a book by a friend of mine, Mack Thomas, entitled ‘The Beast’. Wouldn’t you know it, Dee started calling me “the beast.” Yep. She was an angel and there would be no sympathy for the Devil. But I wasn’t really a bad boy; I was just a little rambunctious.
DC in the present day.
I’m just a soul whose intentions are good. Oh. Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.
– Eric Burton and The Animals
Larry had booked studio time at Platinum Recording Studio in Dallas. So, we went to work on four of Dee’s songs, engineered by my friend Larry Wallace. (Two of which you have been listening to here.)
Near the end of the stint, Dee and Larry treated us to a Chinese dinner. After a great meal the waitress brought us our fortune cookies. Mine said: “Your pet is going to eat you.” Seems that Dee was in cahoots with our waitress and everyone had gag fortunes. It was hilarious!
We returned to Santa Fe and played for a few more months, and then the band simply dissolved. Dee and Larry packed up and moved back to Nashville. And now it all seems like a dream . . .
Say it again, I don’t think I heard you
Say it again slowly this time
I thought I heard the words “It’s over”
Followed by the word “Goodbye”
Say it again, I just can’t believe it
Why I’d never hear a sad word from you
You should be saying words like “Forever”
But say it again, and say it’s not true
Larry Moeller died in 2014. He was 75. Dee went on to marry her old flame, Wayne Moss, Country Music Hall of Famer and founder of Cinderella Studios, the oldest independent recording studio in Nashville. Wayne – one of the original ‘Nashville Cats’ – had married an angel.
We all love you, Dee!