Poodie Locke – RIP

The first time I met Poodie Locke I didn’t know who he was. I had the privileged of watching my very first Willie Nelson show from the VIP section above the stage at the Old Irving Plaza in New York City. This was ten years ago. I noticed that the tables in the VIP section were filled with two kinds of people: the New York music industry types (I guess that included me) and members of “The Family” – the infamous extended network of road show professionals, support staff and hangers-on that followed Willie wherever he went. One of The Family, a very old, big guy wearing a leather jacket and a long braided ponytail, looked like a biker or the quintessential roadie; but he was very relaxed as he moved from table to table casually chatting and visibly cool. He radiated authority.

Who’s that guy? I thought.  

It was a half hour before the show, and I was halfway through a joint, when suddenly the big guy was standing behind me. On close inspection, he had a prodigious gut and twinkling eyes.

Busted! I thought, and I was sure he was going to tell me to put it out. 

“Well, I’d just like to say it’s a fine magazine and I enjoy it very much,” he drawled.

I relaxed and offered him a hit which he accepted gratefully. I think I told him what kind of weed it was and I know I told him this was the first time I was going to see Willie Nelson play even though I’d been a real fan for almost thirty years.

“Well, he puts on a really great show,” he promised. "You’re going to enjoy it.” He took a final hit and, handing me the roach, said, “Well, I gotta go to work.” As he walked through the VIP section I noticed that every member of The Family stopped talking and smiled as he passed by, and one young woman reached out and gently stroked his ponytail with obvious affection.

He was right about the show. Over the next three hours, Willie Nelson and the Family played just about every song I ever wanted to hear them play and some moments were truly transcendent. After three encores and a rousing rendition of “Will The Circle Be Unbroken” the house lights came up, signaling to the audience that the show was really over. Of course, we kept clapping but the stage crew was already breaking down the kit. Suddenly the big guy with the ponytail appeared from one side and walked across the stage as if he owned it (which I found out later, he pretty much did). He picked up Willie Nelson’s guitar and walked offstage and I thought, “Oh. That’s who that is.” He’s the man who takes care of Trigger.

Trigger, of course, is Nelson’s legendary guitar, which, with apologies to B.B. King’s Lucille, is perhaps the most famous ax in the world, a 1933 Martin N-20 named after Roy Rogers’ horse. It has a prodigious hole worn through from years of strumming which miraculously doesn’t affect the sound in the least and it has been signed by some of the greatest country music musicians of the 20th Century and many others as well. When Willie Nelson shuffles off this mortal coil, Trigger is slated for the Smithsonian. Clearly, the man who takes care of Trigger must be the most trusted man in The Family.

Poodie Locke, who died yesterday of a heart attack, was Willie’s stage manager, golf partner and longtime friend. I did not know him but I had the pleasure of interacting with him professionally two or three times over the last decade as I wrote two HIGH TIMES cover stories on America’s most beloved stoner.

Whereas everyone knows that Willie Nelson has created some of the most memorable American music ever, relatively few people know that Poodie Locke created something as well in tandem. He created the most professional and best run nonstop tour in show business. He certainly didn’t do it alone, but he set the tone for the tour and everyone followed his lead. All of the difficult elements of managing the public appearances of an American icon were in place – the efficiency, the security, the jumping-through-the-hoops – but other less common qualities were uniquely tangible when Poodie ran the stage. Respect, friendliness and a sense of inclusion are essentially the three things a reporter or fan wants (and rarely gets) when he penetrates the sanctum sanctorum of a star.

Entering Willie Nelson’s world, one was welcomed with those rare qualities that were passed from Willie to Poodie and from Poodie to everyone else. I’ve never met anyone temperamentally more suited for their job than Poodie Locke. He was a civilizing influence in an uncivilized world, which is always the role of the most trusted man in the family.