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town, following the annual countdown of the top 100 singles of the year. A disc jockey named Billy Mack spun the album and spoke with some of the band members. It was the beginning of a tradition that would repeat with each new MTB release through the years.


fan. I couldn’t even speak. When everyone went downstairs for a photo with a couple of Mid-Atlantic wrestlers and an interview for Rolling Stone,I was in hog heaven, but still too shy to say anything to anyone. That was the first time I met Tommy Caldwell. He spoke first. I guess I looked lost up there. He was real nice, and shook my hand. We would meet a few more times in the coming two years, mostly at the grocery store where I worked, but I would have grown up a bit by then, and lost a great deal of my “star struck” attitude. Before the evening was over, the


band was joined onstage by Charlie, who joined in on several tunes, in- cluding the scorching “24 Hours at a Time”), and there was jamming with special guests Jaimoe, and Marshall Chapman .


One of my fondest Marshall Tucker


Band memories is the 1977 Homecoming Concert at Memorial Auditorium in Spartan- burg. It’s been almost thirty years, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. Friends, family and neighbors as well


as folks from Atlanta, Charlotte, New Jersey and all across the USA packed into the audi- torium for what would turn out to be almost an four-hour long benefit show, filled with some real honest to God Southern rock and roll. This was the first in a long line of back- stage experiences, and I was hooked. There was just something special about hanging backstage with the band. This was also the only time I can recall that I went backstage without writing about it. My first meeting with Charlie Daniels


was in the stairwell at this show. He wore the biggest damned grin I’d ever seen, and was so friendly, he made me a fan for life. His Fire On the Mountain lp remains in my “top ten,” and always will. At that same show, I stood nervously just off stage right after the concert, as Toy Caldwell came walking by. I was such a


Mayor Frank Allen presented the band


with the key to the city, and WORD’s Billy Mac was on hand to aid in the presentation of a check for $23,500 from the proceeds of the show to Shriner’s Hospital for Crippled Chil- dren. Everyone was so pumped, that even the news of a bomb scare couldn’t sway them. “Someone called and said they’ve planted a bomb in here,” said Tommy Caldwell from the stage, as cool as a mint julep. “But we ain’t goin’ no where if y'all ain’t!” The crowd went wild. We weren’t about to leave this show.


No way, baby. The concert lasted a good four hours at


least, and when it was all over, we walked out of the auditorium, sweat soaked and smiling. I made my way over to speak to Tommy Cald- well. “Great show, Tommy,” I said. “Glad you liked it, man!” He said, grinning


from ear to ear. I shook hands with Toy and Charlie, and


headed off toward home, knowing that I would remain a Tucker fan for the rest of my


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