As the old blues singers would have put it, he was a real bad-ass man. While still a kid in California, he escaped from two reform schools seven times. At age 18 he moved on to car theft. That drew him ten months in the Ventura County jail. Next time came a 90-day sentence for raiding a scrap-metal yard.
A year later he made a real name for himself—California 845200. This time he was in San Quentin on a two-year, nine-month rap for attempting to hold up a bar in his home town, Bakersfield. As cocky and uncontrollable as they come, he steamed up some home brew under the guards' noses—and got caught. As his 21st birthday rolled around, he found himself in solitary confinement with only pajama bottoms, a Bible and a blanket on a cement floor to call his own. At long last he was convinced that something was wrong with the way he was leading his life.
The right way turned out to be the country music he had known and sung since childhood. The ex-con who had spent seven of his first 23 years locked up went on to become Country Superstar Merle Haggard, who could mesmerize one crowd after another by singing:
Did you ever steal a quarter when you was ten years old?
Ever wear a brogan with a hole in the sole?
Did you ever ride a freight train while runnin 'from the law?
I've done it all, Lord,
Lord, I've done it all.
Ballads like I've Done It All—tough, honest, "hurtin' songs" from the heart—helped Haggard, now 37, to live one of the classic success stories in the half-century history of country music. He started in the early 1960s as a $40-a-week sideman guitarist. Today he is the king of country who commands $15,000 a concert and in the past decade has sold more than 8 million LP albums and 3.5 million singles worth $44.5 million. The writer of his own words and music, he has won every honor and award that can be given by the imperial city of country music, Nashville.
Shouting crowds of fans turn out everywhere on Haggard's current nationwide tour. Giving his first concerts ever in New York City last month, he packed the 4,600-seat Felt Forum at Madison Square Garden twice in one night. Last week, as the Haggard caravan worked its way from Wichita, into Oklahoma City and Tulsa, the scene was a familiar one. The lean, darkly virile star came out in plain navy blue slacks and open shirt, leaned into the spotlight and sang in his sensuous, leathery baritone Things Aren't Funny Anymore, the current No. 1 country single.
We used to laugh a lot.
We never cried.
But things are all different now,
Since your sweet love has died.
The crowd of 4,000 in Wichita's Century II convention hall knew every song and clapped their hands, slapped their knees and snapped gum in time to the music.
Like his songs, a Haggard concert is simple and direct. No fancy cowboy suits, rhinestone decorations or hand-tooled boots for him. He may introduce his wife Bonnie Owens, a well-known singer who divorced Country Star Buck Owens twelve years before she married Haggard in 1965. Or he will tease his fans by saying "Merle Haggard isn't here tonight. I'm filling in for him. Those of you who aren't country music fans, you're in the wrong damn place."