America's Sweethearts: Wild Bill and Janae!!! That's the title of my new book. It's all about them, you know--- my brother in law and his wife! She's my sister. It's all in the book and I'm Shakiespear the most FAMOUS author in Paris!?!
Sooo, let's read the rest of Wild Bill's book right now.
Let's see where did we leave off? Bill was just finished
breaking the World Record. My, how time does fly! Do you
know what happened next? You couldn't guess!
I won't spoil it for you. Here you can read it
for yourself!
If you like the book, why don't you tell him so?
He gets his mail at my email address when he's in town.
And he's in Paris right now!
Shhhhhh! Don't tell everyone he's here.
I don't have enough rooms for all the autograph signing!
*******************************
CHAPTER SIX
Crawling into bed with a very sore throat, I was aglow like a Christmas tree. I was
so tired but so very excited to see what people were going to do when they found out what had happened with WILD BILL today all across the nation. Not only people who knew me, but I was thinking about folks I'd never met in my whole life. My picture was to be in 300 major newspapers in the next three days. Only seconds after I'd broken the original 16 hour record, an UPI press photographer snapped a picture that showed two of the Silver City waitresses standing on either side of me attempting to dry the perspiration from my extremely tired mug. One cocktail server was trying to give me a reviving kiss on my cheek, while I looked as if someone had disconnected my life support system two weeks earlier. However, I was still hitting those strings on that guitar so as not to disqualify myself from keeping that music continuous for the next two hours and fifteen minutes. This was the picture United Press International had sent out on the wire service coast to coast.
What I didn't know was that in the months to follow, over one hundred persons who clipped this picture out of their local papers would bring this historic photo to Vegas to be autographed. Here was another milestone upon which I had not counted. The newspaper and radio coverage was fabulous and I hoped it would never stop. Jerry Reed was correct in his hit recording when he sang "When You're Hot You're Hot!".
The Silver City lounge entertainment schedule had some guy named Wild Bill Cooksey written in to begin at 9:00 PM on Sunday, May 9, l976 only five hours after the finish of my marathon. Needless to say, there was no way I could have sang that night. So my good friend, Denny Fowler, graciously filled in for me. He does an excellent single musical act and surely saved my day! I was currently at home being re-introduced to something called sleep. Therefore, I was able to take off Sunday night and also my regular Monday night to start the healing of my injured throat. It would take a sensible person much longer than that to rest his golden voice box. But hey, Man, I had to make a living!
Foolishly, I hadn't made a dime on this promotion. I'm sure somehow I could have conned someone out of a few bucks for all my efforts, if I only had started planning in March. But believe it or not, after all the free exposure I'd given Silver City and the extra 12 hours of free entertainment I'd logged in, no one offered to give me even one day off. In fact, what really hurt was that I had to pay out of my salary check for Denny Fowler to substitute for me during the night shift, just a few hours after the marathon ended. I would have thought they'd at least have offered that much consideration. But alas, after giving all I had to make this day, a day to remember in this Las Vegas casino, I never received one Thank You. There was not even a letter of congratulations from Major Riddle's office. Though all these celebrities had acknowledged the event, the people I worked for merely passed it off as a cup of chicken soup.
I needed no brass bands, but I learned a good lesson. When you give any part of yourself and it creates business, be sure and have your name on the top of the pile. If you don't, You'll just be shoveled right in with the rest of the seasoned mixture. The management of Silver City had also promised to at least get my name on a
marquee sign out front at the completion of the NO-COST-TO-THEM event that received national attention. But do you think that anyone offered to come to me and reassure me that plans for an Appearing nightly--Guinness Book World Record Breaker--WILD BILL COOKSEY sign was in the works? No! Remember these words of advice: When you start to make things happen because of your own initiative, those in charge will try and stifle ambition for fear they'll be exposed for not doing their own job minimally. Brand this to your brain! Why can't we all share each other's glory and not be so menacingly envious?
Jim and Sam had the recording tapes secured. Dennis Hamby and his staff had the videotapes all filed away. Ben Roscoe was starting a plan to get me on TV and lots of other national outlets. This week of May 10 was to be one of the biggest seven days of my life.
Ben had the Las Vegas News Bureau shoot still photos of the marathon and told me he placed them on file in their offices under ONE MAN BAND MARATHON. Someday when I get rich, I'm going to have dozens of all of those prints made and mailed to my great grandchildren.
Probably the most exciting thing I heard on May 11th back at work was that NBC TV had called Silver City. They had seen the newspaper story on me and were inquiring about getting me on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show. I almost fell over! They were looking for me? This had to be a dream! Somebody please pinch me if this isn't true! Ben Roscoe followed up on the calls and tried to line it all up for my shot on the show. But I was already scheduled before the marathon to return to Florida for a gig at the end of this week. So Ben asked if we could set it up in three weeks. I wanted to cancel Florida and do it then, but Roscoe convinced me that the best move was to use common sense and do my club date. So Ben told the NBC representative that we'd have to reschedule for the first of June.
Joe Delaney, the noted Las Vegas Sun newspaper columnist and critic, as well as local TV and radio personality, interviewed me on his show. There were other talk shows and interviews which created a morning to night routine all that week. Along with my nightly performance in the lounge every evening till dawn, this whole ordeal was beginning to wear me thin inside and out. Joanne Toadvine and the charity people wanted to see if perhaps we could use some of the film of the marathon for their promotional campaign. So we had to hurry!
On Thursday, Dennis Hamby, Loretta, Steve, myself and a super dude named Billy were to finish shooting this whole TV program for Joanne's group. Our idea was to get enough footage to make an entertaining documentary promoting the charity and inspiring people to attain their own special goals in life.
Now Billy was a young black man in his early twenties, who had been an All-American high school athlete with great aspirations to pursue a professional sports career. Unfortunately, a freak accident occurred that resulted in Billy being shot. The bullet affected his spinal cord paralyzing him from the waist down. This would be quite a trauma for most of us, but Billy had adjusted beautifully. This man is an inspiration to all who meet him. Even without his mobility, he comes across stronger than ten men who have the full service of all their limbs.
Billy's hobby was participating in the VEGAS VAN CLUB which went on weekend trips to the desert in a caravan of paneled vehicles. Nevada definitely has the most beautiful mountains in the world to me and I am lifted up just at the sight of their majestic splendor. Billy was going to drive me out to an area called Red Rock Canyon in his specially designed van.
Dennis and I had planned to film Billy and me in an encounter comparing two individuals who took different roads in life due to a set of circumstances that altered their future choices. One person was a successful athlete as a young man and then crippled later in life. The other individual was sidelined from even walking at all during the elementary years and then twenty years later he broke a world record for physical endurance. The premise was a good one and the chemistry was even better.
On this hot, May day, they first filmed Billy and me riding along down the Las Vegas Strip in front of all the hotels. Then the camera showed us turning towards our destination outside of town. Billy and I were supposed to be talking about what a rough thing my marathon had been and now I needed to get away from the city to the quiet of the mountains to recharge my sanity.
Keep in mind, at no time does this footage show Billy's impairment. He's driving the van and I'm in the passenger's seat all decked out in my jeans and cowboy hat. We're just shooting the bull as two friends would while going out on a holiday to get away from it all.
Dennis was arranging the film so as to flash back during our conversation to show some of the wild things I'd done during the marathon. Laying on the floor, eating the eggs, playing all the instruments and the scenes with the crowd cheering me on, were all to be inserted at key spots for the next 25 minutes in the film to match up with our dialogue.
As we approached this gorgeous Red Rock Canyon, we were aware that Dennis, Steve and Loretta had already arrived. This next scene was to show Steve and Loretta scaling one side of a huge boulder on the other side of the canyon. Dennis wanted to give some real authentic flavoring to our dynamic epic with Steve and Loretta's climbing activity in the distance. Billy and I were to drive up, get out and take a look at the sights. Then we were to make a few comments about what we saw...basically, just two guys doing a bit of rapping back and forth!!! But little did we know what was in store! With Dennis in position focusing the camera on Steve and Loretta's expert use of ropes to scale the rocks on the other side of the mountain, Billy pulled the van into the designated area. Looking tacky and relaxed, I jumped out of the truck and started spouting out compliments of how impressed I was with this spot Billy had chosen for me to view.
"Quick, Billy, get out!", I exclaimed. "It's breathtaking! This is just unbelievable. Come on, Billy, hurry up!"
I kept on ranting while looking around and hitting on the side of the van with my hand to alert my cohort of the urgent desire I had for him to encompass this awesome scene. Keep in mind now that for 25 minutes no one viewing this film was to ever have one hint about Billy's condition. We were looking for reality, not pity.
?????????????????????????????????????????
And then comes the shock of this half hour flick. The back doors to the van open and out comes Billy in a wheelchair on an electric lift. Slowly, the motor whines and lowers him to the desert's surface. His hands automatically spin those wheels around, dodging anything that may be in his path. Almost running circles around me, he moves into position to better view the two adventurers scaling this natural skyscraper. I'm almost embarrassed to tell you that while he was rolling around at will, I actually tripped over a rock and a little desert shrub, bruising my shin. I said this was a realistic account. Didn't I?
Finally, in line with the camera shot, we both winged the dialogue. We were just supposed to point at the kids climbing and then get back in the van. But something happened inside of me like never before in my life. I felt the presence of Someone greater than this world. I can't adequately explain it, but I truly believe the Spirit of God was down in that canyon on that hot, May afternoon.
"You know, Billy, those kids sure look as though they're having a good time!" I spoke as I raised my right arm and pointed in their direction. "I sure wish I could do something like that. Even though I can play lots of musical instruments and make people laugh, I'd be a total klutz at anything like that."
As Dennis zoomed in on young Billy's face with the strong wind blowing, this inspiring creature of God uttered the words that changed my whole philosophy on life.
"But, Wild Bill, that's not so hard to do. You know, someday I believe I'll get right up out of this wheelchair and I'll climb that mountain too!"
A feeling came over me like from another world. I trembled inside as perspiration beaded on my forehead. Just a few simple words had destroyed my mind. How true! What little faith do all of us have? When a permanent cripple says he believes he can climb a mountain, why are we whining about our trivial, everyday problems?
Dennis motioned for everyone to return to the van where we all celebrated with a cold drink. Happiness was in our hearts and a feeling of accomplishment filled our satisfied minds.
Driving back to Vegas in an overheated van seemed unimportant. All I could hear in my mind was Billy's words---"I'll climb that mountain". Over and over, it drove me crazy. Mountain! Mountain! Mountain! Get it out of your head, Turkey. You've got to go to work in four hours. You need a shower and some rest.
Dennis had already related that we'd need some special background music for the documentary. Suggestions for an earlier composition of mine entitled Suicide had been considered. That song is not as gruesome as it may suggest, but tells the story of a turnaround in the mind of a depressed human being. Wonder who I could have written that about?
Back in my apartment I showered, ate a cheese sandwich, drank a Coke and started putting on my uniform for work. Then came that voice again, "Mountain! Mountain! Mountain!" Dear God, give me a break! I've got to go to work. There's no time!
Please believe these next few statements are true and not just to make the story more interesting. I have never had an experience quite like this before. Certainly previous to the writing of this book, I have never revealed these details to anyone at anytime. Perhaps I had concern that some well meaning friends might send the guys in the white coats to visit me for a fitting. But now I feel I must share it with you.
With my uniform on, I sat down on the bed and picked up my acoustic guitar. There was a black felt pen and two pieces of yellow paper on my night stand which I kept there for jotting down weird ideas that spontaneously popped into my head. My mind was echoing that word again---"Mountain! Mountain! Mountain!" And my fingers went directly to an E chord on the guitar. I recall saying aloud the words Billy had spoken when he said, "I'll climb that mountain."
So help me God, I do not remember anything else clearly from that moment on. All I know is the next time I remember glancing at my watch, I realized that twenty minutes had elapsed. Time had not stood still. But rather twenty minutes had literally disappeared from my conscientiousness. Here I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my hands still on the guitar. It was like I blinked my eyes and lost one third of an hour. Before I could make any sense out of all this, I became aware of the yellow piece of paper next to me on the bed with words that rhymed and chord symbols written over the lyrics. I gently put down the guitar and picked up the paper. I began reading the words and became very confused. No one else was in my apartment. Where did this come from? Everything on the yellow paper was in my own handwriting, but I had no recollection of penning these lyrics. And why on earth were there chord symbols printed strategically over certain words when I had no remembrance of having created any melody line in my mind?
Are you ready for this? I wasn't ! As if I were singing something as familiar as "Happy Birthday", I picked up the guitar and began vocalizing this beautiful composition. There was no hesitation or bumbling of lyrics as in most new pieces of music I'd written in the past. This song came out of my mouth with the ease of a mother giving natural birth to her child. Even though I was puzzled, I sang it over and over again. It wasn't a pride in selfishly possessing this new composition that showed my expertise in song writing, but a relaxing peacefulness which came over me each time I released the melody from my lips.
Glancing again at my watch, I saw that time had really slipped away. I had to leave for work right now. But if you think I'm leaving this baby here, forget it! Late for work or not, I grabbed my cassette recorder and sang it one more time. There was no way I'd risk forgetting this tune!
At work I felt tired, but also serene and at peace with the world. By the time Dennis and the gang got to the club for closing, I had to perform as much of this new song for him as I could. I'd hoped it would meet his approval for use in the film.
As I sang the song, slowly and with feeling, a sort of magic fell over the entire, noisy lounge at 4:00 AM. I needed no applause or verbal response because the audience's eyes told it all. They couldn't believe it either. How long had I been working on it? Who helped me prepare the lyrics and music? How come I'd been holding out on them with material like this in my portfolio?
Just for the record, I believe with all my heart that, I'll Climb That Mountain was given to me by God. For 31 years I'd searched the world to find my purpose in life. My father and mother wished me to be a minister or a lawyer. However, it seemed that there was another course charted for me that was having a major influence on a large number of people. I believe that God will direct every person to the job He has selected as their role in His Plan for our world. It would be very rewarding for me to be able to use my God given talents to help others overcome obstacles in their lives. Maybe this new song would give me that chance to encourage downhearted folks that they could Climb That Mountain in their lives. Only time will tell.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Okay, Billy Boy, now you've got the world by the horns! Let's see some action. Everyone knows who you are from the newspapers, TV, radio and word of mouth. You've got a film started about yourself. A super, experienced man named Roscoe is guiding your career towards opportunities you'd never dreamed of before. All signs point to instant success. So let's roll!
Talk about no sleep. Man, I was taking two sleeping tablets per night and awakening two hours later. But I only had a few more days before leaving for Florida to perform for a fortnight. Everything had to be set up for my return to Vegas to make all the big appearances scheduled. Ben Roscoe was clicking with LA contacts and Vegas juice in order to make the most of my contemporary flag waving event. Remember, due to TV, Americans forget faster than you can dream up the next spectacular for their approval.
First, Ben lined up my appearance on Joe Delaney's afternoon radio show at the Sahara Hotel. We went only two days after the big event and gloated over my determined endurance disaster. I sounded like a frog with laryngitis, but Joe and his guests praised me highly. This is a feeling I wasn't used to, so my ego enjoyed every minute in spite of the sore throat.
It happened that one of Joe's guests was the unbelievable satirist of Vegas, Cork Proctor. This man can build you up in three seconds, destroy your pride in two more seconds, and have you laughing and crying at the same time without you knowing why. He's worked every hotel in Vegas five times, been fired or let go because of uneducated management and still his biggest enemies hire him over and over because no one else is as boldly clever as Proctor with a microphone. Cork and I had met previously in 1975 and we'd caught each other's show. Our acts are entirely different, but both of us require a large amount of turnover in our audience to accomplish our goals and expectations. Our respect for each other's talents is a lasting pact.
Cork interjected during Joe's program that the Roast for the Clark County Commissioners was coming up at the Stardust on Saturday night. He kept insisting through suggestions that I should be included on the list of comics to add fuel to this bonfire of dignitaries. I was honored, but at first I didn't feel he was serious. In the midst of conversation, I heard myself volunteer to contribute my loving little jabs into the Clark County Big-Wheels on Saturday night. Hey, Man, I was invited to jump on the bandwagon just because of one silly, publicity stunt. Sure, what's next?
Somehow I returned to Silver City that night and tried to maintain that rigid schedule of non-stop shows. Rough as it was, I began to wear thin. But Ben had my head filled with ideas of all these wonderful things he was lining up and my head only continued to swell. I was great and I knew it! My days at Silver City would soon be over and then no more long, long shows.
Dennis and I discussed his editing the film while I was away in Florida. The word from Help Them Walk Again charity was if we gave them the rights to it all, we'd have no tab to pay in production costs for a finished product. So we worked diligently as hard as possible to finish in time to complete the project. Between Ben and Joanne Toadvine, we foresaw no difficulty. Dennis was to line up showing this film in New York by mid-summer and then it would be spread across the country. We would press records of the Mountain song and sell them for the charity which would own it all. We really were going all out to try and inspire all Americans to attain their greatest potential in whatever field they excelled, no matter what their challenges appeared to be. Any one who would be willing to try would be climbing the biggest mountain in their life ---the first step to reaching the top is to be willing to try!
Saturday came and the Roast went super. I was seated on stage next to Beverly Harrell, a madam of a brothel called the Cottontail Ranch. Next to her was Bob Mitchell, a longtime established comic in the Magic City. Both of them, along with others like Pete Barbutti, were scheduled to grind away at this board of commissioners who govern Clark County. Actually, I was in pretty heavy company. And when my name was mispronounced in the introduction, I quivered inside. But I boldly jumped up and walked briskly to the podium trying to look confident and relaxed. I must have done alright because I received a large round of applause for my efforts.
Quickly, I was rushed back to Silver City to perform for six hours and then pack up everything in my 22 cases in order to catch that plane to Florida. Was I tired? No, not at all. How can you be tired when you're not sure what day it is? By the time I reached Atlanta, I was staggering around the airport trying to maintain stability. The wait was forever, making one wish General Sherman had really done a number on this part of Georgia. I guess I was afraid if I didn't get going soon, I'd collapse right in the terminal doing my Rip Van Winkle impression.
In a short while, I was again GONE WITH THE WIND, arriving in Daytona only long enough to throw the equipment into the U-Haul trailer Pam had rented. All four of us sped away from the parking lot, turned left in the middle of the night and headed for St. Petersburg. Needless to say, I could barely see the road. But the WORLD'S ENDURANCE KING can do anything. Bring it on---the harder, the better!
We finally got settled into the motel by daybreak and I got my much needed three hour nap. Up at nine o'clock, my equipment man, Jerry Masters, and I set up all the necessary montage of wires and junk I needed to play that night. But I'm never satisfied with the way things are available on stage on opening nights. Therefore, I was still in the showroom double checking everything until five o'clock that afternoon. Pam and the kids finally saw me for about three minutes before I took a short rest prior to show time.
At 8:00 PM, Old Bill was pounding the piano at the Breckenridge Hotel for the nicer dinner crowd. My musical comedy act wouldn't really swing until about 9:00 PM, so I dimmed the lights and did my thing playing legit keyboards and singing mellow vocals. While adjusting equipment between the piano and guitar changeover, I did pause to have a few words of greeting with the agent, Russ Byrd, who was responsible for my appearance there. He and his friends made me feel more relaxed and even my tenseness from the trip disappeared. All in all, I lived through the entire weekend trip and the first night. At least, that's what they told me when I awoke the next morning.
Spending time with the family was extremely refreshing. Being away so long at a time, we hadn't had a chance to go places and do things that families normally do. I don't usually let loose because all I think about is work. But for once, I did let go and enjoyed myself thoroughly as our time together was quality time. We came very close to the edge of playing tourists in our outings during those two weeks.
Since St. Petersburg is only 30 minutes away from Largo, Florida, the location of Tom Priest's recording studio, I couldn't resist the chance to record the song for the soundtrack of Dennis' film. My voice was shot, but this was my only opportunity. When I got back to Vegas, Ben would have me on tour all over the world. This would have to be my vacation.
Tom was excited enough to cancel everything else and even brought in extra personnel to assist in my session. After laying down the guitar, bass, piano and lead voice myself, I overdubbed the four backup harmony voices. Three years earlier in my little home studio in Daytona, I had produced dozens of local radio jingles all by myself. One recording I did had 16 different instruments and vocal parts overdubbed and mixed together on my four track machine. However, it took almost a week of 12 hour days to complete. That experience of putting something together all by yourself made this session a piece of cake. With an expert like Tom operating the
controls on the console, all I had to do was perform my musical talents for him to capture on tape.
It's pretty hard to sing four different vocal parts one at a time on tape when you can barely talk. But I knew it had to be done. So I did it! We made it have a gospel style feel by adding in some plain old handclapping to the beat. It works every time. Tom slaved away at getting it all on tape, knowing I only had a limited time to sing with my voice going away fast. Later, after two full days of hard work, Tom invited Wally Dow, another local picker, to fill in the drums and to add an additional guitar part. Bless their hearts, they spent 30 hours mixing and remixing this song. They saw the potential of what could happen in my career if the momentum continued to grow. We were all trying to help each other climb this mountain to the top hoping our unending efforts would bring success to all involved.
Due to the terrible strain the Guinness record had put on my voice, this recording has much gruffness in the overall vocal sound. But every bit of love I had went into these special moments at the microphone, because I wanted so badly to share with others the meaning behind the words of the song. "Sittin' here again feeling sorry for myself...when others have a greater need...I should be thankful for the talents God's granted me...and a willingness to succeed...Sometimes everything just seems to go wrong...it's natural to wanna give in...But you can solve any problem big or small...Just find a place to begin!"
I'LL CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN...I'LL MAKE IT SOMEDAY...EVEN THOUGH I MAY STUMBLE AND FALL...SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY...I'LL NEVER STOP...TILL I REACH THE TOP...HOLD MY HEAD UP IN THE CLOUDS AND SAY...THANK YOU JESUS...FOR HELPING ME TO CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN YESTERDAY...
Tom put the final mix down on reel to reel tape and it was ready to be shared with the world. And I knew Dennis was waiting for this recording back in Vegas to put the icing on the documentary. Wouldn't they all be surprised to hear the masterpiece we'd produced in Florida? Well it wouldn't be long now, because this two week gig in the Sunshine State was almost over.
The plane spit me out one more time in the Entertainment Capital Of The World, only a few hours after Pam and the girls had waved good-bye to Daddy in Daytona. I felt like a ping pong ball being hit across a table back and forth from Vegas to Florida and from Florida back to Vegas. Now even though I loved the excitement, my enthusiasm was about six years ahead of my physical condition. Please make a note. Las Vegas is not really very comfortable to some of us in the summer. Sometimes it reaches 120 to 130 degrees out in the surrounding desert area. Don't believe that baloney about there being a different kind of dry heat either. Even 7-11 stores remove their microwave ovens that warm their sandwiches during July and August. Stepping off the plane, I thought I had reached hell and the thermostat was hung!
To top it off, three days after returning to the casino and getting into a daily work routine, my apartment played a unique trick on me. The dumb air conditioner pretended not to function. It did such a good job that I reported it to the manager for being a bad boy. However, the bad guy turned out to be the complex manager who played head games with me for 2 or 3 days. Finally I was told that they couldn't get the right part to fix the cooler. Remember my friend, Jim Locke, from the marathon? Well, Jim is in the air conditioner repair business. It seems he had no problem finding the right part, but he was not allowed to do any type of work in the apartment complex where I was staying due to insurance or something legal. And do you think the manager was going to get a technician to put in Jim's newly found part for my cooler? No way! When it was all over, I found out a new company from Minnesota had purchased the apartments. Their policy was to spend no money on any repairs for the rest of the year. Real smart? I looked like an Armour Star bacon strip with bloodshot eyes after two weeks of no sleep and enough sweat to make a greased pig contest look like a visit to the dry cleaners. I went crazy!
With my rent already paid in advance for June and July, I tried to hold out. But finally, I just moved to a motel with ---yes--- heavenly air conditioning. My anger disappeared when I could breathe again. The extra $65.00 a week for double lodging was worth the good nights' rest. Guess when the manager got the air conditioner fixed? Three days before my rent was due ! By then I'd found a weekly cheap motel to move to and I stayed there throughout the rest of the summer. Remember I had no time or energy to fight some clown over trivialities like this. I was a big star now and things were about to really heat up for my career.
Meanwhile, back at Silver City, Ben Roscoe and I were doing our last minute scheduling in order to arrange all the personal appearances he had lined up. Ben had a list a mile long. I was tired, but pacified. Dennis and I were set to go to LA to edit the film for the charity show promotions. Ben lined up his connections with his friends in California. We planned the trip on my day off and cruised into Smog City.
The editing takes more time and money than we have, so Dennis tried to just put together a four minute preview of the mountain scene with flashbacks of me during my Guinness efforts. We dubbed in the sound of the "Climb That Mountain" song behind the final minutes of our epic. Now, it's not Ben Hur, but it should be enough to show the charity board of directors the value of our creativity. Then they can approve the necessary funding for the completion of this inspiring documentary. So, generously, I had the whole project billed to my name. When you're on the verge of becoming a Big Star, you have to take a few risks. As they say, "No pain, no gain!". I'm sure it'll all work out and we've got to get back to Vegas. I can't afford to miss one single night of work now. Especially, since I just encountered another large bill.
The next day I found out that Joanne Toadvine was not sure if the film and the song were suitable for her charity's purposes. She and Ben had words and guess who was caught in the middle?
Finally, she simply said to forget it. It was too much trouble. Didn't she know what I went through to get all this done? What did it cost Dennis, Ben and the many others to get this project off the ground? Needless to say, the LA videotape company still wanted their money and they deserved it. It took me a lot of hours beating that guitar on stage, but that bill was at last paid off in November. Trust me. I'll never go to bat like that for a person or organization again without having some kind of commitment in writing that at least I can eat later on if it all goes sour. I will share the noose, but I don't have to put my neck in it and also kick the orange crate out from beneath my own feet.
All of this was quite a blow to my ego, but I still had old Ben in there plugging away at getting me exposure. Whoops! All of a sudden, Ben wasn't available. I left messages and tried to run him down. When I finally confronted him, he had more double talk than a used car salesman. And I already had a lovely set of vintage Desoto wheels in my traveling companion, Old Off-Whitie. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Ben had deserted ship too. My true feelings along with a little investigating led me to believe that he was privately informed that I was a leper. Now if he continued to work with me, he'd be banished to the land of Never, Never Work Again.
Oh, he'd talk to me and was even very nice at times. But his enthusiasm had amazingly been transformed into a case of voluntary amnesia.
Well, there was still Dennis and his contacts in the big hotels. We had the film and had shown it on Joe Delaney's TV show. People liked it and Dennis got it privately viewed by David Brenner, that super young comic at the MGM. Dennis said that David thought it would be perfect as a novelty insert for the next time he'd be guest hosting for Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show. Best of all Brenner was scheduled to host in July. Quickly, Dennis returned with this earth shattering news that put me back into orbit. Hey, I only needed one break and here it comes.
Brenner asked Dennis to contact Rick Bernstein, his manager in LA about confirming the date on the Carson show. By now I can't even eat, just waiting for the phone to ring. Excuse me, did I get any messages while I was out? Make'em up. I don't care! National TV, fame, fortune and then there will be no more six hour jobs. However, I must not hassle Mr. Bernstein. Come on, Bill, you just need to have a little patience. If you make him mad, your dream is over. And who wants to make waves at this point? In good faith I prepared for this awesome opportunity by giving notice at Silver City that I was volunteering to take two weeks off work during the time Brenner was scheduled to host this NBC program. This time I was setting priorities for the success of my career. I'd be free to hang out in LA after my standing ovation appearance on the Tonight Show. All I needed to do now was pace myself for this big night on national TV. Calm down, Bill. Don't panic!
I went to work the first week before my upcoming time off and felt a bit nauseous. Probably just my anxiety about the show. Bernstein is never in his office. I should know since now I'm calling twice a day. David Brenner is on concert tour in the East and can't be reached. Oh, God, why am I so sick? It's just nerves. Not being used to the hot weather, no air conditioning, the anticipated TV shot and the normal nightly pressures could be the reason my bodily functions are acting so strangely. Listen, I'm at the point where somebody has to tell me "yes" or "no". Am I going to be on the stupid show or not? I'm about to explode!
Now some of us have a big mouth and some of us can't keep anything to ourselves. I admit that excitement had totally taken over my rationality when I was told about the upcoming Tonight Show appearance. It might have been much wiser to have waited for direct confirmation of the exact date and time I was to be on with David. But as you've noticed as you've read this book, I enjoy sharing good fortune with everyone I love. The bad part was I loved everyone who would listen to me at all when I announced that I was going to be on the Tonight Show with David Brenner. Of course, anyone who entered that lounge was branded with this knowledge whether they cared or not. And all the employees at Silver City were almost each given a two hour seminar on when, where and what this gig on NBC was going to do for my career. They said they were happy it was paying off for someone they 'd watched work so hard for so long. Many asked the date, the local channel number and encouraged me by saying, "Go get'em, Wild Bill. We knew you would make it. You're the best!" Well, if you say so.
Finally on Friday afternoon, I reached Rick Bernstein's office, only to be informed that he was not there. However, if my name was Bill Cooksey, there was a message for me. Alright! See how foolish it was to be all shook up for these last few weeks. Why does anything productive always happen right at the final two minutes of the ball game?
My mind raced a thousand miles a minute thinking, Wonder what time they want me for rehearsal? Yes, I can leave right now. Forget Silver City! Nobody cares there anyway. Let them get someone else to fill in this weekend in the lounge. In fact, why don't you just keep my check for the whole week? It's not that big of a deal. After next week, I'll be rolling in dough anyway. Don't forget, I'm headed out to LA. You can watch me Monday night on the...(sigh)...Tonight Show with my good friend, David Brenner. By the way, did I mention I'll be his personal guest?
Wait a second, while I was off in space reviewing what I wanted to tell a few jokers, Mr. Bernstein's secretary put me on hold. Maybe she didn't realize exactly who she was speaking to. Okay, she's probably gone to get that message Rick left for me. And I want her to read every word correctly. No mistakes, please. This is my life you hold in your hands, Lady.
"Mr. Cooksey," a new female voice came on the line and spoke, "Mr. Bernstein has asked me to tell you that there is some difficulty in the number of guests booked already on the show. So you might have to be on standby."
In my mind, I didn't care, just as long as they wanted me! Come on, Woman, spit it out! What time do you want me there?
"Mr. Bernstein also said everything's not confirmed with Mr. Brenner yet since David's been out of town working. Unfortunately, Mr. Brenner won't be back until show time on Monday," this same automated voice continued.
And then came the heartbreaker that told the story so bluntly and forced me to face reality. The terminal part of the message I was about to hear sent this crazy man into the root cellar forever.
"In fact, Mr. Cooksey, since the Democratic convention starts on Monday night, we're not even sure the Tonight Show will be aired at all. Especially with a substitute host," the voice of doom rang out as I could feel the executioner releasing the sharp blade of the guillotine.
After biting the phone cord in half with my bare teeth, I was slashed by one last sentence from this verbal, dream murderess.
"With everything up in the air like this for Monday night, Mr. Bernstein suggested it might be a better idea if we just went ahead and tried to reschedule you for the next earliest date when David will be hosting the show again. Good-bye."
The only word she said that made any sense was "Good-bye". It was the perfect synonym for my career. All my dreams were down the drain. The embarrassment of having to tell everyone that I wasn't going to be on the show made my heart pound with frantic fear! This was a miscarriage in the twelfth month!
Please, God, don't do this to me! That night I started the show with I'll Climb That Mountain, because it was the only song that seemed to fit. I know people thought I was full of rubbish, but I only told it like it was. True friends still stuck by me when I needed them. Others kind of snickered or sneered and their faces seemed to form the letters, LIAR. Oh, was I sick now?
Well, with two weeks off and no income, I trucked to California anyway. Fate had brought me this far. And fate and faith must work together. Right? Day after day in LA, I ran into golpher holes. I went to an office in Hollywood to answer an ad that wanted new faces for the movies. How dumb and desperate had I become? After filling out their application, I was sent into the big boss's office to be interviewed. This shifty-eyed guy with a wall full of old movie posters behind his desk said I had great potential, but he needed me to be on file in order to present me to casting directors. Oh, yes, there was just this little $25.00 token fee to be listed with this multi-media organization. Even worse! I paid it. The secretary typed my name on this kind of dull colored membership card and then placed my application and Polaroid shot in an old dented up file cabinet from the Goodwill. And the strangest thing of all is they must have lost my number. Can you believe I'm still waiting to hear from them? They seemed like such nice people too. Oh, well, I know a lot of Hollywood producers never knew what they missed. Anyway, keeping my Oscar in the backseat of Old Off-Whitie just wouldn't have worked out.
Then it occurred to me, if some of the comedians I'd seen on TV got their start from being discovered in LA comedy clubs, then a pro like me was guaranteed to be the next superstar. I went to observe some auditions and open mike nights at a few joints. But give me a break! All I heard was garbage language, bad drug jokes and sick examples of perverted humor. Thank goodness I didn't have my equipment with me. Being so desperate, I might have brought in thousands of dollars of musical equipment plus some of my irreplaceable, choice comedy props into some dive where I'd have at the very least been robbed. Before I departed from the City of Angels, my friend, Gallagher, invited me to come see him smash his watermelons at an afternoon job for the city's recreation department. It was a free concert outdoors in some park downtown and the crowd was huge. Being from Florida, Leo had known me from the Clearwater Hilton when he was only a Roadie ( Equipment Manager) for Jim Stafford. They had some fallouts when Stafford did his Seventies summer variety network TV show out in California. Gallagher is a scraper and put together some hilarious comedy routines determined to not take it on the chin. Bingo! His Veg-A-Matic bit's finale where he smashes a large watermelon all over the audience got him numerous appearances on my beloved Tonight Show. We visited, talked about old times and discussed the business. He answered many of my questions about whether I should stick it out at the comedy clubs until I got a break. After considering Leo's advice, I realized my place was with the Vegas audiences because my material did not fit into the typical LA style of glorifying drugs and sick, perverted sex.
Returning to Vegas, I hid in the shadows until I just had to appear back at work. Slower and slower my career seemed to drag. The Guinness Book Wonder Boy wasn't too spirited by this time. Going to work and coming home to a cheap motel with air conditioning was it! My withdrawn complex kept me from even telling friends where I lived. Ashamed and depressed, I pulled away from everyone a little more each day. My entertainment was done in a very mechanical routine and my attitude was bitter.
The only spark of happiness seemed to come from selling "Climb That Mountain" records to people who appeared to light up when I performed the song. The reflection of their smiles brought a bit of joy into my life and just a little feeling that it had not all been in vain. My pride in my work was diminishing to lower levels. I only survived my personal depression by singing the song and thinking of my wife and kids depending on me for support. And how about all those people who'd applauded me for years and years? I couldn't let them down now! Could I?
One afternoon I got the bright idea not to worry about the fact that the Help Them Walk Again charity had failed to produce the results I desired. Let that be their problem. I had to get on with my life and carry out my own philosophy. Bill Cooksey loves giving of himself to others and that is my life! That's what makes me happy! Why not set up a "Climb That Mountain" foundation to encourage people to help each other? It may not make lots of money for me, but I could not go on like this much longer without doing something. Maybe this was it!
So, I bought an old used typewriter and made out my statement of goals. Then I went to a lawyer (paid out more money) and was advised how to incorporate. As I shared my ideas with my legal advisor I related how I could sell records, key chains and hold concerts to raise funds for distribution among those who really needed help. When you are sincere, it's natural to go in head first. I may not have any money, but I can surely contribute in a non-profit manner to the benefit of mankind.
You know, all this sounded really great, until the lawyer laid the facts of life on me attorney style. Shrewdly, he'd listened to my presentation with a genuine (?) display of warmth and compassion as I talked.
When I finally took a deep breath, he praised my plans and began trying to make me believe he was about to do me a big favor.
"Bill, I see that you really want to help people, so I'm going to sincerely work with you to make this all a reality. First of all, we'll need about $500.00 to initially set up this non-profit corporation. Then we can discuss the extra costs in my administrating the activities and funds in a financially proper manner."
Obviously, I either didn't get the point across or I'd found an attorney with a cement heart. Man, I didn't even have $50.00 to eat
on and I wanted to help people!??! Somehow, I crawled away from his office and went back to the cheap motel and cried. God, I really wanted to do what was right! Isn't there an answer to all of this? Double depression caused me to lose faith in everything. Only three months before, I had been riding the wind. Now, when all else had failed, I just wanted to help my fellow man and look what it got me! That's some song, I'll Climb That Mountain. Well, brother, I was rolling down the hill fast! I hated everything and everyone for many days to come. My only sure bet was that things couldn't get worse unless something terrible happened to my wife and kids in Florida. Every night I pleaded with God to take it out on me before He allowed anything to happen to Pam, Caprice or Sunshine.
Kristofferson's song," Why Me, Lord", had always been a favorite of mine because I could do a perfect Xerox of his voice. Now, I felt like I was living the lyrics. Up and down the Vegas Strip a cute little bug had been jumping from hotel to hotel. In some places, employees and customers only suffered from sick stomach and fever. But in other establishments, people turned yellow and were laid up for months. Those who've had it certainly would wish it on no one else. When you've never been exposed to it, it sounds fairly simple and kind of like a bout with a bad strain of flu. In August of '76 this bug hopped from the Sahara to the Riviera. Then it leaped through the Westward Ho Casino to Denny's restaurant. Then after it had hit the Stardust, this deathly plague jumped across the street to the scene of my Guinness Book World Record event. All this activity occurred in only a two week period. Yes, starring in every hotel in a three block area, Mr. I. M. Hepatitis brought the house down. He almost closed a few joints too. The hot weather produced summer colds and immune systems were already down for most Vegas employees. It's no wonder this viral villain was having such a field day.
Hepatitis has an incubation stage of six weeks, so I was told, before it really starts to cook. Slowly, but surely, people all over Silver City began missing work and calling in sick. It was not an epidemic, but 15 % to 20% of the help produced obvious symptoms. However, you don't close a casino unless there's a blazing fire or the house goes broke. Hepatitis is hard to spot early in a person without the proper tests. Because when you become violently ill, it's too late to take any of those preliminary actions that might have spared you the misery of the latter stages.
I don't know how long it had been in my system. With my whole body fouled up physically and emotionally for the whole summer, I was a perfect candidate. Several of our cocktail waitresses were sidelined for weeks. Bless their hearts, they always kept a fresh Coke available for me right next to the stage during my act. When you're up there for six hours straight, something to drink is pretty important. No one was more considerate than the ladies who worked the late shift with me. But hepatitis is not difficult to contract from unsterilized glasses and I'm sure the bar served thousands of drinks in an evening. It's amazing more people don't get sick everywhere, when you consider how easily germs and bacteria can be spread. No matter how I caught this culprit, there was no doubt I was soon to find out that contracting hepatitis is the complete opposite of having fun.
One Sunday night I felt terrible and went home after work to the motel. There I stayed sicker than a dog until Tuesday night at 11:00 PM when I had to go back to work. Drinking Pepto-Bismol and living in the smallest room in the motel apartment can get very depressing. I couldn't hold anything on my stomach and even water refused to stay down.
I'm just glad no one else saw me in that condition. I could barely walk onto the stage and there was no jumping around like I usually did. The time I spent back at the motel seemed pleasant compared to the painful experience I was going through those first few minutes on stage in the lounge trying to make an audience laugh.
After an hour on stage on Tuesday night, Wonder Boy had to make a nature call. This meant committing the ultimate sin in front of my adoring fans. Wild Bill had to take a-----I can't say it--bbb..br..break! The legend was crumbling before their very eyes. It was either that, or embarrass a whole lot of folks right there on the stage. This process continued time and time again nightly through Friday evening. Bravely, I had tackled a regular meal midweek which I soon regretted. By Saturday the cramps and fever were rampant in my weak, pitiful body. On Sunday night I went in and related to the Casino Manager that I felt very ill, but I was going to make every effort to provide as much entertainment as I could. He just acknowledged what I said with a nod of the head and a smile. No one ever seemed to take me serious, because they think nothing can stop Cooksey, the Endurance King.
Never on stage have I ever been unable to keep my tummy from taking the elevator to the top floor. But after only an hour and a half, I couldn't take it anymore. The rumors about the spreading hepatitis demon had aroused my suspicions enough to overcome my fear of being examined by Dr. Frankenstein at the Guinea Pig Horse-Pistol. I now chose to exit the world of denial and actually accepted the fact I might not be invincible! I also chose to exit the Silver City lounge, jump behind the wheel of Old Off-Whitie and check into the Emergency Room of Southern Nevada Hospital. Of course, they need your life history before allowing you to use the restroom.
"You definitely have hepatitis showing up in your blood," related the M.D. who had to be a direct descendant of Ghandi with that accent. "We ran the tests and you need to be admitted tonight to the hospital for treatment and observation."
"Doctor, I'm very sorry I can't afford a stay in your lovely facility. Financially, right now that would be impossible. And since I walked in here on my own, isn't there something you can give me to help me feel better?", I was so animated by this time, he probably thought I was on something already.
"If you refuse to check yourself in, then you must promise me you will go straight home and rest for a minimum of three weeks." Dr. Bombay compassionately spoke with authoritative concern. "I'll give you this shot and some tablets to relax your stomach muscles. Stay strictly on a soft diet. After 21 days of complete rest, you should be able to return slowly to your normal routine. In three to six months, you should feel fine."
" Oh, thank you, Doc," I spoke in a soft convincing voice. "I'll surely try to follow your advice to the letter. I really appreciate all you're doing for me."
"Mr. Cooksey, you are a very sick man right now. You go home, get in bed and allow this medicine to work. Under no conditions are you to be involved in any type of activities until your strength begins to return. And if you have any setbacks, it is imperative you come right back to see me or any other doctor on duty." This man really made things clear to his patients.
Absorbing the good doctor's years of medical advice, I paid the $90.00 bill for the emergency room services. If I wasn't sick before, I was now. Ouch! How am I going to make up that cash I just spent? That was supposed to be part of what I send Pam this week.
Okay, let's see, if I remember exactly what the doctor said to do. I believe he said to go to work for three weeks and then go home and rest. Wasn't that right? Surely they wouldn't allow me to rest on stage at Silver City for three weeks. Isn't a lounge the kind of a place where people come to sit back and relax? It works for me.
So hurriedly, I drove back to Silver City just in time to finish the last two hours of my show. I'm Wonder Boy! Remember? Boy, did I pay for that! I thought I was cute jumping around on stage the remainder of that Sunday night. But thank goodness I had the next day off. The only time between then and Labor Day that I even tried to stand up each day was the half a dozen hours nightly when I went in to play in the lounge. I was constantly sick or doped up with stomach relaxers. Most of the time I basically went through the motions from habit just to be able to collect my check on Sunday nights. And excitement was my diet of strictly cheese, crackers and hard candy.
During my sickness, the last thing to pass through my dazed brain was David Brenner's next guest hosting date. Later I found out it occurred during this time period I had committed myself to medical research. How's that for luck? I would have been pretty funny with a little help from Dr. Bombay's muscle relaxers. Couldn't you see me getting my national TV shot singing with two paramedics holding me up? Does there seem to be a pattern here ? Or am I not seeing it because I'm sinking too fast in the quicksand?
In spite of common sense, I continued to try and rush the healing process by pushing real hard for a few hours on stage. You know, mind over matter! In my case it was a problem of dysfunctional gray matter in the brain. But hepatitis doesn't adhere to the philosophy in the story about the little train saying, "I think I can...!?! I think I can...!! I think I...??...better stop or I'm going to drop!!!". You see, hepatitis does not allow your liver to function properly and food is not digested at a normal rate. In other words, you run out of gas in no time at all. That was something I'd never experienced before in my whole life. And I didn't learn this from Dr. Bombay. I accelerated and my body slammed on the brakes. As I began to feel somewhat better in my thinking abilities, I used my persistent, determined, strong will to force my actions to reach my full potential. I think I can...!?! I think I can...!?! I think I...I...I better stop for a moment!!! Okay, here we go again and again and again. But the old body is just not physically up to par quite yet. Maybe I should have heeded Dr. Bombay's counsel.
By Labor Day I didn't care who I was, I had to get home to Florida to rest and get well again. But, I couldn't afford not to work. Bill Cooksey will probably die and still retain a job as night watchman in the cemetery. So in a moment of energy, I called an agent that had booked me from l970 through 1974 throughout Florida and up the East coast. He got on the ball and booked me in a country club 60 miles from Daytona starting the week after Labor Day. Not only was it for top money, but I only had to perform the comedy act for 90 minutes nightly with two days a week off. Yep! Just what the doctor ordered.
So I called Pam and told her about this heavenly job right out our back door. Just think, to heal up meant I'd have to spend a lot of time at home with my three favorite girls. That's better than any medicine on the market. Maybe when you're climbing a mountain, it's a pretty good idea to stop and smell those roses while you still can. They'll always be more mountains to climb. That's the essence of life. However, roses are only here to enjoy for a season. One day they are in bloom and the next day they are gone.
With all my trunks of equipment and suitcases full of clothes packed up to be put on the plane to Florida, I remembered one last piece of unfinished business that had to be taken care of. This was a task I hoped I'd never have to face. But my heavy heart knew I couldn't leave Las Vegas until this grievous matter had been resolved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Even in the foggy world of stomach relaxers, a man can be touched in his deepest emotions by the depressing thought of having to say farewell to something that controls his innermost feelings of sentimentality. Could leaving Silver City with all it's memories of glory and applause affect my heartstrings to produce tears of painful parting as I didn't know if I'd ever see this shrine of Wild Bill's Palace of Prosperity and Poverty again? Was it the very thought of looking down from the Eastbound plane as it lifted out of the valley seeing the glamorous, captivating lights of the Entertainment Capital Of The World dwindle in size until they were but a flicker, the size of a candle left for the human eye to behold, that crushed my very soul into total emptiness? Heavens no! There is but one thing that I held in such high esteem. Surely you've guessed by now.
My whole being trembled as I drove my friend to his final resting place. He'd been faithful and true to me when others dumped me like garbage. And though many chose to sneer at my weather worn comrade because the signs of aging had crept up on him as the years passed by so quickly. Alas, youth lacks the vintage of a cultured creature that knows no boundaries when called upon to go with me to the most dangerous destinations. That's right, it was time for Old Off-Whitie to retire to his new home in Crusher Village. I felt poorly about receiving the $50.00 bounty for bringing him in, but he'd understand. He never complained. He'd chased deer across the plains of Utah before we met. And though we'd only known each other for less than a year, I valued his loyalty and faithfulness way above many of those two legged varmints I'd encountered since July of '75. I won't name names. If you read my story you know who they are. No one was ever as loyal as Old Off-Whitie. He never whined or complained. He was almost a self starter. He never ran anybody down. And he never lied. He was what he was and ignored the dirty looks and put downs he got from all those turkeys in the fast lane. He never had a bath and was somewhat torn apart inside. But he had what it takes to be a friend you can count on. Yep, Old Off-Whitie had character through and through. His integrity showed from his push button transmission to his dull chrome nameplate. Oh, to ever have another friend like him again. They just don't make Desotos like they used to.
As someone else drove me away from this metal rest home, I looked back to see Old Off-Whitie intermingling with the other residents all involved in a common activity. A tear wells up in my eye when I tell you exactly what appeared to be happening to my dear former companion. The words that best describe Old Off-Whitie's condition as I last saw him also properly fit a man named Don, mentioned earlier in this book as the only member of the audience to sit in the Silver City lounge throughout the entire 18 hours and 16 minutes of my Guinness Book World Record marathon. To put it mildly-----They were both smashed!
WELCOME
TO HEARTBREAK HOTEL
Alas! All this struggle and effort (from 1975 through August 1976 ) was just to attain my notable place in history by seeing my name on two lines inserted into the 1977 Guinness Book World Record Book. Creating a degree of accomplishment in my free spirit, this landmark event, I knew, would change the world into a better place to live. And in the Spring of 1977 as I entered the bookstore to purchase my copy of the legendary publication, I turned to the page upon which my name was supposed to be etched in stone. There must have been a mistake made in jolly old England. They listed some chap who supposedly played in the Fall of 1976 continuously for four days in the back room of some spaghetti parlor back East. Wonder how that happened? Three guesses! Somebody read one of my hundreds of newspaper articles on my little event? An ambitious musician heard me on a radio interview? Or maybe Aunt Matilda saw me in Vegas and went home to tell her nephew he should out do Mr. Las Vegas. Who knows? God bless the industrious guy for his endeavor. (I trust he's still alive.) I only know that for a brief period of time after May 9, 1976 at 4:16 PM Pacific time I held a ridiculous world record! Let's hope the lucky fellow listed in the book didn't end up paying the price which I had to pay afterwards. Yes, I got all the publicity and glory I needed to get things rolling in my career. But if you think this book has been about climbing a hard mountain in my life, "You ain't seen nuttin' yet"! Read on. The epilogue tells THE REST OF THE STORY.
EPILOGUE
The adventurous tale you have just finished reading seems to me a lifetime away. The story was written two years after the Guinness Book World Record was broken. As I sat on the bed of a windowless room in Biloxi, Mississippi I recounted the events with pen and paper during the daytime. At night I worked in a nice supper club on the Gulf of Mexico singing and doing the comedy act. But it wasn't very funny to me. The people laughed and filled the joint but I was a broken man inside.
Yes, everyone loved my talents and accomplishments in Vegas in 1976. I returned to Silver City Casino in January and February of 1977 to dazzle thousands more fans. That was the year I went on tour to be the opening act in major arenas for stars like Chuck Berry, Freddy Fender, Blood, Sweat and Tears...just to name a few. The career was finally reaching the top of the mountain. It's too bad Ole Bill was sliding down the other side of the hill like a snowball headed for hell. And that would have been my destination, if things hadn't changed drastically.
My wife and I couldn't communicate at all anymore. Did I give up? No way! It was not in my nature! I returned once more to Vegas in January 1978 to overflowing crowds of admirers. Hey, they didn't know how miserable I was inside or how my whole life was at the point of self-destruction. They were still worshipping the image of May 9, 1976. Right after Valentine's Day I told a clean, cute joke on stage one night about a casino that was closing due to scandal and someone was pinched by my statement. The next night that I went in to work I was greeted by a shift boss who informed me, "You are fired!" It seems someone with juice got the word to Major Riddle, the owner, and I became history. After all the millions of ridiculous things I'd said and done on stage, how could one cute, clever line wipe me out? COLOR ME DEVASTATED.
My name was mud in Vegas then and no one would touch me. So I returned East to Alabama where I worked a one-niter in a police officers' lodge. And during the performance, an off duty, stressed out officer (who had just returned from a drug bust) pulled a gun on me while I was on stage. Give me a break! I quickly fled the lodge, throwing my equipment in my van without caring where it landed. Meanwhile other cops restrained the wild lawman who was still screaming obscenities at me as I drove off the property! Did I remember to get my check? Who remembers? Who cares???
With no cash, I limped into Biloxi with a contract in hand for a job which could help me catch up on back bills. In the apartment provided for me by the club, I learned how to cook rice on the stove. That's all I could afford from the tips I'd received the night before. I was thankful for patrons who showed their gratitude for my playing their requests. The next night I was able to afford macaroni and cheese. It was a long week and I had seven more to go. Every penny had to go to pay back bills. So what else did I have to do but write a book? After two years had passed, I was able to set aside hard feelings and write a more objective account of my adventure.
At the end of the Biloxi gig I had been truly humbled into believing perhaps I should return to Florida and try to patch up my marriage. But it was not meant to be, since by now my wife had found someone new and wanted a divorce. Could things get worse? Stay tuned!
For the next two years I worked all kinds of obnoxious jobs trying to legally fight for my kids. But in the end the battle was lost and the courts made it totally impossible for me to ever have them as a part of my life. Can you believe this led to a major, emotional breakdown? Of major proportions? Let's see, I'd lost my wife, my kids, my house and now my mind! The emotional distress created unending chaos in my work on stage. Unstable would have been a kind way to describe my actions. Oh, yes, did I mention that I went stone deaf for three months and still had to perform a four hour comedy/music act nightly? I couldn't afford to miss the money. And worst of all, I ended up in a friend's driveway for weeks in my van with a '.38 Special in my mouth during the day. Meanwhile, at night I continued to make people laugh their cares away at my job. Thank God, I never had the nerve to pull the trigger. Besides, that's not the way the story was to end.
As always, I escaped back to my favorite retreat, Las Vegas. People had forgotten about my being fired and I got a few gigs here and there. Emotionally scarred and physically plagued with all kinds of illness, I realized I couldn't maintain the same type of high energy stage act I had done in the Seventies. As a result, my talents were directed towards becoming a night club disc jockey, an entertainment journalist and a business promotional consultant. By the Grace of God and a lot of understanding friends, I existed for three years without hope or purpose in my life. Going through the motions day after day helped me avoid the guilt and shame I felt about myself as a BLOWHARD HAS-BEEN that had failed as a husband, a father and a human being. All the depression brought on stroke symptoms at my birthday party in 1980. I was playing piano in an off the Vegas Strip cocktail lounge and all my friends had packed the place to celebrate my 35th birthday. My van was loaded out front to leave immediately after the party for a number of jobs back East on the Playboy circuit. As I took a drink of cola between playing songs at the piano, I realized I was unable to drink from the glass without the cola uncontrollably spilling out of the right side of my mouth. Ignoring this, I continued performing for another four or five hours. How could I stop the party, when my friends had thrown this birthday bash just for me? After all my well-wishers had gone home, I stood in front of a bathroom mirror only to see my face was twisted and contorted. Scared to death, I canceled those gigs back East and began to try and get close to God. I even went to church the first Sunday afterwards. But as I learned to rationalize the condition of my appearance, I talked myself into believing that I was able to overcome any obstacle in my life by trusting and depending only in MYSELF!!! It had worked all my life. Why should I change now? Living in denial, I just stayed busy enough to prove that I was in charge. Nobody else! Then in the Spring of 1983, it happened again. This time at the first sign of the stroke taking over, I pulled the plug on everything. I didn't want to die, so I just laid on the couch and watched TV for 8 months. This caused me to realize I was facing a pitiful future. Nothing seemed to work for me. Every new deal fell through. I thought I needed big bucks to go after getting my children back. Instead, I just continued to deteriorate inside and out.
Finally in June of 1984, after being fired from an entertainment job on a cruise ship because the captain was from another country and didn't understand my act, I crawled back to Vegas. Spending my last $100.00, I took a bus trip to North Carolina to see close relatives. Back in my hometown, I was reminded of my childhood. I recalled walking down the aisle of our local Baptist church at age twelve with the choir singing "Just As I Am". That day I had accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior with all of my heart. And when I tried to replace that first love in my life with fame and fortune in the world, an emptiness grew inside me for 28 long years. It took me that long to recognize that without Jesus, there is no life. Certainly I could see by my own situation that I was dead already inside. So I repented of all my sins and was received back into the welcome arms of my Heavenly Father. I had to return to the place of my childhood to focus on where my priorities should be. A mighty burden was lifted off my heart by a forgiving God. Again my life had purpose and meaning. All the world's fame and glory could not produce such love and joy as I experienced on July 2, 1984. You see, I'd climbed back on my journey up the mountain. For 28 years I'd been in a valley and didn't even know it. Now with the help of Jesus, someday I would reach the top because my life had been restored.
Committed and determined to serve the Lord by serving others, I set out in an old 1974 Chevy van going across country singing and sharing the Gospel with folks who also needed a second chance to make things right with God. There's too many stories and too many miracles on my journey to relate in this epilogue. But some of the highlights of my experiences led me to a swap meet ministry in Las Vegas ministering to the same people I'd entertained in the casinos. But this time I was singing a new tune. In Vegas I was honored to share Christ with many on street corners and dark alleys.
Eventually my ministry took me into California where I was blessed to begin a radio program on KTRB, a 50,000 watt station in Modesto, in 1985. Believe it or not, (I was not aware of it at the time) KTRB was the same station on which Cliff Barrows, the voice of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, made his radio debut as a singer with his sisters a few decades earlier. What record do you think I played, as the theme for that first fifteen minute radio program that aired Sunday mornings at 10:45? That's right! By the fourth week, the Lord had put it in my heart to spin parts of that same '45 disc that I recorded in 1976 at the beginning and the end of each show. I guess people need to hear that they can Climb Their Mountain everyday. Even though God brought other brothers in to keep the work going, the program continued on the air at KTRB until the first part of 1994 when the station went to a Spanish language format. All Glory goes to God who makes all things possible. Through the years the Lord allowed me to come back on and be a part of His program. Throughout my twelve years of involvement in Christian broadcasting, each one of my radio shows has been sponsored faithfully by Paul and Evelyn Smith and their business, Paul's Indian Store. Imagine the souls that will be in Heaven because the Smiths were obedient to the Lord's calling on their lives! May we all be so yielded in our service to our Savior and Lord.
Aside from praising the Lord for His continued Blessings, I began to pray for a Godly mate to work with me in the ministry. And my answer came with a beautiful lady who was saved and filled with the Holy Spirit. We met at a tent revival in Arizona where I was called to provide the music. As we grew to know each other, we sought the Lord for His Will in our lives. Both of us had come from difficult struggles in our backgrounds. But we knew God had brought us together for a special purpose. And in His Timing on January 9, 1988, we were joined together to serve our Lord as husband and wife. Now Bill and Janae Cooksey were teamed up to climb that mountain together. Our objective then and now is to see precious souls come to the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.
The Lord allowed us to travel all over the country sharing the Gospel. Janae's years as a public schoolteacher and her talents as a caricature artist combined with my preaching and singing to touch many lives along the way. Hopefully, we planted seeds for the Kingdom that will blossom one day in Heaven.
In 1990 the Lord blessed us with a new husband-wife radio ministry on KCIV-FM in Modesto that covered Central California. By 1991 we moved to a 50,000 watt superstation called KPLA which covered San Francisco, Sacramento, San Jose, Fresno and everywhere in between. A few years down the road this powerhouse signal, rated the fourth strongest in North America, was sold to the Crawford Broadcasting Network. With KCBC 770-AM came new opportunities to adapt our format to a target audience of hurting and unsaved listeners. This station covers an area of over 13 million residents in Northern and Central California. Our program Cooksey's American Carousel, was established to provide a variety of various ways in which we can present the Gospel message. Janae and I were blessed with also acquiring the extremely gifted talents of Rich Woodruff as producer, engineer, and long suffering friend who makes the presentations more polished and professional. The Carousel has had preaching and teaching segments, radio dramas, a prayer line into our home for thousands of prayer requests and personal interviews with such nationally known personalities as the following:
Jack Hayford, D. James Kennedy, Ben Kinchlow, Rex Humbard, Bill Bright, Cliff Barrows, Hal Lindsey, Pat Boone, T. L. Osburn, E. V. Hill, David Jeremiah, T. D. Jakes, Sheila Walsh, Dave Dravecky, Morris Cerullo, Dr. Donald Whitaker, Ed Cole, Steve Gatlin, Pat Shaughnesy, Joy Haney, Don Moen, Dennis Agajanian, Steve Brock, Scott Bauer, Meadowlark Lemon, R. W. Schambach, Diane Nobles, Paul Schroeder, K.P. Yohannan, Tommy Coomes, Tom Vegh, Glen Berteau, Sgt. Danny Daniels, Chester Smith, Noah Hutchings, R.C. Haus, Terry Cook, Johnny Ray Watson, Don McAlvany, Gordon Stoker, Don and Virginia Thomas, Joe Wright, Burton Goldberg, Mickey Gilley, Rose Maddox and Bo Diddley.
And because God has given us such great members on our ministry team, we are able through new doors which seem to be opening daily, to begin syndicating our program across this country and the world by cassette, satellite and short-wave. Praise the Lord! Can you see how small the Guinness Book event was in God's gigantic plan for my life? And now this mountain climbing will never stop until I reach the highest point possible on my journey towards Heaven where I'll spend Eternity with my precious Savior, Jesus Christ. You know, you could be there right there with me and everyone else who has accepted Him as Lord.
If you've never done it before,
please just say this short, little prayer
in your heart.
Say,
"Jesus, I acknowledge You as the Only Begotten Son of the Only True Living God. I know I am a sinner and I ask You to forgive me of all my sins. Thank You for shedding Your Blood on Calvary's Cross for me so that I could be accepted into the Kingdom of God forever. Please guide me, direct me and lead me in the paths of righteousness for Your Name's Sake. Jesus, please take control of my life right now. Please come abide in my heart. Help me to serve You all the days of my life. Amen."
Now I feel much better knowing that you said that prayer and that you and I will be together eternally with our Father in Heaven above. Let me be the first to congratulate you for making the best decision of your life in receiving Christ as your Lord. Get a Bible and start reading the fourth Gospel, the Book of John. Begin to pray to your Heavenly Father by thanking Him and praising Him for the mercy He has poured out upon us all. Just talk to Him as you go throughout the day. He's always there and He'll always care. As you pray, ask God to direct you to a Bible-believing church where you can share in the fellowship of other believers the marvelous Amazing Grace our Lord has supplied for our lives.
And now I've saved the proof that God hears and answers prayers for the end of this book. His Timing is perfect! As I was putting the final touches on this epilogue, guess what happened? Do you remember those two little angels that were all throughout the earlier pages of my story? I'm referring, of course, to my daughters, Caprice and Sunshine. Well, after not seeing them or being able to communicate with them for over sixteen years, God did a miracle to lift my faith to an all time high. About a month before Father's Day, my oldest daughter, Caprice, wrote me the sweetest letter asking if she and I could re-establish our relationship and start over. Just the two of us! What do you think I said?
And then on Father's Day, Sunshine called Dear Old Dad on the phone. You see, when you think it's all over just remember that God sees the end from the beginning . Don't ever give up on God to do what is best and it will be exactly at the time of your greatest need when things fall in their proper place. Just trust Him, my friend! Memorize Romans 8: 28. All things do work together for good to them who love the Lord and are the called according to His purpose.
Thank you so much for taking the time to walk with me through some of my life's personal experiences. Remember this book was not written to show that Bill Cooksey is some special person who should be applauded and lifted up because of his great achievements that exalted his name on TV, radio and in newspapers. No! My story only proves that as misguided as my life was and with my priorities totally out of order, God honored the commitment I made at twelve years old when I accepted Christ into my heart. He said in His Word that He'd never leave me or forsake me....no matter what I did. All along he kept allowing circumstances to change in my life, so I would have one more chance to come back to where I belonged. And when I said, "Yes, Lord", He welcomed me back as if I was still that little twelve year old boy at the altar. When He forgives you, He also forgets all you've done to sin against Him. I could never have climbed any mountain successfully without being in right standing with my Lord. But by drawing from His Strength, I can even help others to make it to the top. So stay encouraged and never give up. Always be a blessing to others and you'll never fail to win the race. I've got to go now. You see, I have a whole lot of mountains left to climb!
And so do you!
Come on.....
I'll race you to the TOP!!!!!
OOOOOOOOOOOH!!!??! I'm so happy to be here in Paris! © 1996 richardgrant@hotmail.com
Links to other sites on the Web
Here's my Sis! She teaches FREE phonics classes on the Net!
Dolly Parton, Jenny Jones & George Burns? With MY family???
Hey! Here's Bill again! He ought to be in the rock 'n roll hall of fame!
Here's my Sis! Her art work is owned by Jay Leno!
Both Bill & Janae are here! It's THEIR radio show!!!
What do you mean by asking me, who the HECK are Wild Bill and Janae???
I'll be moved in shortly and then look out World!
Can you get the phone? If it's Sis, tell her to teach her Phonics
really well down there.
These people in Paris have an accent!
WHAT? Oh nothing! I didn't say nothing!
No I DIDN'T SAY NOTHING!
What! Oh, yeah!
YOU'RE WELCOME! Hey, where are you going?
Don't forget to leave the cup!
Ohmigosh! Am I boring you already?
My sister said I would---
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