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At the dawn of the 1930s
God spoke and called forth from
the Texas dust a sound…
a sound that will forever
be known as that of
the Chuck Wagon Gang.
David Parker 'Dad' Carter, Rose, Anna,
Ruth Ellen, Anne, and Bettye along
with brothers Jim, Roy, and Eddie – as
well as a host of vocalists and musi-
cians over the next several decades –
would create a profound body of work
with timeless appeal. Heaven only
knows how many hearts have been
touched by the music of the Chuck
Wagon Gang.
Much like the Carter Family (no rela-
tion) of the Appalachian Mountains of
Virginia who were present at the es-
tablishment of the country music in-
dustry, the Carter family of Texas was
called upon to help lay the corner-
stone of American gospel music. In
the simplest yet most elegant of musi-
cal terms, armed with only a guitar
and a song, the Chuck Wagon Gang
sang the American public out of the
Great Depression, through wars, as-
sassinations, revolutions, f lag burn-
ings, scandals of church and state, nu-
merous Presidents and a revolving
door of changing times. Then as now,
their music serves as a guiding light
beckoning from a peaceful distant
shore. Their message bears truth yet
condemns no one. The lyrics of the
Chuck Wagon Gang do, however,
prompt the same question asked by
the old union labor song
Which Side
Are You On?
It's up to the listener to
decide.
If the Chuck Wagon Gang had done
nothing except record the original
version of Albert E. Brumley's
I'll Fly
Away
, their legacy as American gospel
greats would've been secure. The song
is now so globally known, and has
been interpreted in so many ways that
it is often crushed by the weight of its
own fame. But upon hearing the orig-
inal recording one is reminded of its
beauty and offered a glimpse into the
majesty of heaven: song, songwriter
and messengers in perfect union. At
face value, the recording appears to
be just good country singing of a fa-
miliar old song. However, the further
down into the grooves you go, layer
upon layer of greatness unfolds. The
tones and nuances inside of that coun-
try singing are other-worldly, myste-
rious, vast in scope. If you look deep
enough you can almost see the
anointed power sent forth which pro-
pelled
I'll Fly Away
into the ages.
The beauty of the Chuck Wagon Gang
was how humble in spirit they were in
the midst of the matter. The group
simply showed up at a recording ap-
pointment, tuned the guitar, warmed
up, hit the famous chord, gathered
around the microphone and sang a
song they believed in. I'd be willing to
bet the farm that on the way home
from the session no one said,
"That Fly
Away song we did today is going to be the
one that is going to set the world on fire."
The song chose them.
One of the listeners the Chuck Wagon
Gang touched with that song was an
Arlington, Mississippi cotton farmer
named Elry Lee Johnson. He was my
grandpa. I was in his presence the
first time I heard the group sing. It
was around the noon hour on some
weekday in the mid 1960s. Pa had
come into the house to eat lunch after
working in the field all morning.
After lunch he tuned into Philadel-
phia, Mississippi's WHOC radio sta-
tion to listen to their noontime gospel
broadcast before going back to his
work. I've never forgotten the look on
his face as he sat with his eyes closed
in his favorite chair, wearing his
dusty work clothes and brogan shoes,
listening to the Chuck Wagon Gang
sing. While the song played, he patted
his foot just enough that I could hear
the nail heads on his leather soles
lightly keep time on the linoleum
f loor. The look on his face could only
be described as a perfect portrait of
peace and contentment. When it was
over, he stood up and said,
"That's
mighty good,"
put on his hat and went
back to work. It was mighty good.
Good enough after one listen to be-
come a part of me for a lifetime.
That's the effect the Chuck Wagon
Gang and their music have had on
people since the very beginning.
I wish that I could have been present
when Dad Carter gathered his chil-
dren to sing songs on the porch at the
end of the day for their fellow mi-
grant farmers and their families. I can
only imagine how beautiful those har-
monies must have sounded as the sun
was setting into the west. The words
and music were surely a healing
balm for a weary people. Nothing's
changed. Now, well into the twenty-
first century, David Parker Carter's
descendants are still serving in the
same way the patriarch of the family
designed many years ago. At the close
of day we can still gather around the
Chuck Wagon Gang and have the priv-
ilege of hearing them sing heaven's
songs of peace, hope and promise to
all of us migrants living in this loud,
clattering world below.
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FOREWORD
b y Ma r t y S t u a r t