Tony Custer: piano & vocal
Zoomer Roberts: guitar & vocal
Bill Owen: bass
recorded June 1973 at the King's X
The single most significant outside contribution to this project has come from Bill Owen, who mailed me his first-generation tapes of Bent Fender & the Moonglows. This has not only enabled me to upgrade previous posts, but it has brought to light a series of forgotten events. In the autumn of 1972, I rejoined the Shade Tree Boys, Hal and Henry, who were now playing at the Black Garter. Henry had a job selling tires at Sears & Roebuck, and often showed up late or not at all. He finally quit the group, and Hal moved me from bass to electric guitar, hired Ross Swall to play bass, and returned to a quasi-country repertoire. Always quick with a quip, Hal off-handedly dubbed this aggregation "the Shade Trio." Long-time followers of the band missed the comedy routine, but I knew it by heart (having heard it a hundred times) and soon Hal had me doing Henry's x-rated "village idiot" shtick. Meanwhile, the club hired a new waitress named Cleo Bell Thompson. When Hal discovered she was a singer of some merit, he began showcasing her as "Foxy Thompson." Besides the Black Garter gig, we also played at the Red Rose Lounge and at service clubs at Fort Bliss and White Sands. In 1973, Hal chucked it all and went to California to re-connect with one of the loves of his life. Ross also left the group, and Cleo and I teamed up with Bill Owen to play the army jobs Hal had booked before he left. Cleo named us "Peaches 'n' Cream," which I hated, but it was a transitional situation: she soon joined forces with Charlie McDonald to form Applejack, and Bill and Tony Custer and I started Bent Fender & the Moonglows. Soon we were playing six nights a week: three at the Jade Club and three at the King's X (where we played on Long John Hunter's nights off). We were an identity crisis band -- for the audience. We did Fats Domino and Ernest Tubb, John Denver and Rolling Stones, Elton John and Barbershop, Eagles and Elvis. We drank -- for free -- as though our lives didn't depend on it, and after months of doing filthy comedy, I was one smart-ass front man. One night after we got through playing at the King's X, I discovered somebody had slashed all four of my tires. I never found out who or why. BF & the MG's were history by the end of the year -- Bill and Tony had careers to prepare for, and I went back to playing sideman for local country singers. The three of us are in contact, and once in awhile some of us see each other. Listening to these tapes 35 years after the fact, I take quiet pride in having been involved in this unique, eclectic little band. Perhaps not many people know who we were or what we did, but we do.
