Probably the most exciting and adventurous thing I’ve done in life was to become a songwriter. I was back from Graphic Design School and unsuccessfully looking for work. I never felt very excited about being a page layout artist, which is what graphic design mostly entailed. I was following through on an idea someone else had for me to be a graphic artist. I also had no better ideas and felt I needed to do something…..anything before I was too much of a loser to ever move out of my Mom’s garage. While I was in school, I bought a twelve string guitar and taught myself to play. I’ve been interested in playing music since before I was born. I was making beats in the womb. Somehow, I never considered it as a career option and it was never presented as such.

1991, I went to see a music show in a little club called “Luna” in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Marshall Crenshaw was one of three, slightly obscure, songwriters doing the show. He was the only one I’d ever heard of. I had two of his cassettes that had no hit songs. I don’t know why I even knew who he was. Eventually he had a Hugely popular song called “Someday, Someway” and also appeared as Buddy Holly in “La Bamba”, the movie. During the “In their own words tour”, I was incredibly, amazingly, overly inspired. I was so excited that I felt that I must share my epiphany with Marshall Crenshaw! I was so shaken up by the idea of just making a living writing songs, that I was vibrating and profusely sweating as I informed the inspirational and highly accessible music artist all about it. Like I was the first person to ever figure that out. Except, of course for Marshall Crenshaw, who obviously previously figured that out. He actually was concerned about my nervousness and said in his cool voice,” Hey man, you all right? You gonna be okay?” It was then that I realized I was over zealous and was really freaking out Marshall Crenshaw. I strictfully informed him that I would move to Austin, Texas and become a songwriter like him. He calmly reassured me that Austin was a good town for music. So I moved to Austin very, very soon.

I started out dominating open mics all over town. I became a regular at the Saxon Pub on Thursday evenings . Owen Murrell was the host and introduced me in a serious and booming voice with pauses between my first…middle…..and last names. He introduced everyone that way. After the mostly mediocre open mic performers, Rusty Wier would headline the late show. He was a blast. He was a great performer and drank a lot of tequila shots. The bartenders loved the money he brought in with the crowd. I was broke, so I never left the bar after the open mic, so my girlfriend and I never paid a cover charge. For some reason, Rusty took a liking to me. Probably because I wore a signature hat like he did, and I reminded him of a younger, less talented himself. He often would insert my name into the song he was singing as I made my way through the crowded room. It was a great feeling. Rusty had written a song that was included on the “Urban Cowboy” soundtrack. “Don’t it make you wanna dance” sung by Bonnie Raitt. He was friends with another local songwriter, Jerry Jeff Walker who wrote the hit song, “Mr. Bojangles”, made famous by Sammy Davis Jr. Mr. Jerry Jeff Walker happened to be hanging out one afternoon following the open mic. I was also very much there. Owen Murrell was talking to Jerry Jeff when I interrupted and thanked Jerry Jeff for sending me advice on music. I actually had sent him a tape before I moved to Austin and I thought he sent it back with the kind advice to read a book called,”This business of music”. He enthusiastically told me that it was just the standard thing his wife, Susan, does with unsolicited tapes and he had nothing to do with it. I politely asked him to thank his wife for me then. He just grumbled at me. I was obviously bothering him but I loved his music so I really didn’t notice his despite for me. I honestly knew two of his albums by heart. Owen asked him if he wanted to play a few songs and he thought out loud and muttered, “I’m not sure what to play”. I immediately interjected with many, many random Jerry Jeff Walker song titles -like I was asked to help him out. About ten minutes later, I noticed Jerry Jeff standing alone, listening to Slaid Cleaves playing on the stage. He was the talented open mic headliner. I thought to myself, this would be a great chance to have a real moment with Jerry Jeff. I stood next to him and confidently told him to remember my name, Sidney…. Vance…..Stephens, because I was going to make it someday and he should remember my name, Sidney. …Vance….Stephens. I could feel the shiver of bone chilling blood, running down his spine. He didn’t even look at me. He couldn’t.

I’m highly ashamed of that moment, but he kind of had it coming. He could’ve been a little nicer to me. I only admit to this horrible behavior because I wonder if it became relevant many years later.

I moved to Nashville for many years but eventually returned to Austin. I saw Rusty Wier again, but so much time, and tequila, had passed that he did not remember me. I was a little hurt but I understood. If you don’t stay active in the music world, you’re forgotten easily.

A few more years passed by and I sadly heard that Rusty was not doing so well. He had pancreatic cancer. He made an appearance at a local bar where he was showered with an abundance of love. He was crippled and very weak as everyone surrounded him as he made his way through the crowd. I spoke to him and told him how good it made me feel when he sang my name all those years ago at the Saxon Pub. He didn’t remember me at all, but was smiling. That’s the last time the public saw Rusty.

He passed away a few weeks later with his good friend Jerry Jeff Walker by his bedside.

And if this story is relative, I’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, the moment before Rusty Wier took his last breath, he suddenly looked up and remembered me, and said my name aloud, and Jerry Jeff Walker turned his head in confusion and heard a distant booming voice…..

SIDNEY……….

VANCE……….

STEPHENS!!

And Jerry Jeff would have remembered my name.