This is going to be a long posting. I have the most amazing files. I only wish they were in better order so I had a clue as to what they contain! Here is some information about "Haywire Mac" I just found. These are notes that came with a Folkways record album, No. FD 5272. I have never heard the album, but these notes are amazing. They were written by Sam Erskin. I'm going to quote from the notes. I will edit them a bit:

"Yes, I am the old-time Victor recorder- and I'll answer your last question first ....... Giving a complete list of my Victor platters is beyond me. If you can dig up a 1928 Victor catalog you'll get the dope. At one time I had something like thirty sides listed.

At the time I recorded there was only one collection of cowboy songs in existence - COWBOY SONGS AND FRONTIER BALLADS - by John Lomax. Said book had only one or two tunes in it - Lomax was apparently interested only in the lyrics.

I made the first waxing of such songs as RED RIVER VALLEY, JESSE JAMES, CHISHOLM TRAIL, WHEN THE WORKS ALL DONE THIS FALL, COWBOY'S LAMENT, BURY ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE, TRAIL TO MEXICO, and many others. I had plunked my guitar and warbled my ditties for many years in cowtowns and mining camps from Bisbee to Nome and I added to my repertoire whenever possible.

In April 1925, I got my big break. I was handed a whole hour on radio K-F-R-C, San Francisco, Monday through Saturday. The program was aimed at children and its immediate success surprised the hell out of me and everyone else.

There never was a kid that didn't like cowboys and Indians and the daddies of my youthful audience had nearly all knocked around this western country in their own youthful days.

Some Indian friends dropped by occasionally and sang their own songs to the thump of a knuckle drum. There was Tall Pine, a Sioux from the movie lots, Joe Longfeather, a tall handsome Blackfoot who was selling automobiles, Silver Cloud, a Laguna and a copper smith in the Sante Fe railroad shops and Evening Thunder, a Pima who was a pretty good middleweight pugilist.

I had written a few hobo songs in my rambling days and radio listeners liked them too. I was signed by Victor in 1927 and was under contract for four years.

Well - maybe you remember what things were like in 1931. All the phono companies quit recording and drew on their "backlogs" for a couple of years.

Now for the autobiog you asked for. Born in Knoxville, Tenn., October 8th, 1882. Was a boy "soprano" in the choir of St. John's Episcopal church until his voice changed.

Ran away from home to Gentry Bros. Dog and Pony Show - at age 14. When the season ended, I hoboed to New Orleans. Was lucky enough to meet Captain and owner of a small stern-wheeler steamer that was laid up for the Winter. The old boy was glad to have a trustworthy person to leave aboard when he stepped ashore to catch up with his drinking. I got comfortable quarters and most of my meals.

One night I edged into a waterfront saloon where the crew of a British steamer were filling themselves with beer and the evening with song - a good old custom that still survives among the Limeys. Someone called on me for a song and I obliged. I scored a hit. I sang, it seemed, for hours. I'll never know how I got back to the boat, but in the morning I shook something like three bucks in nickles, dimes, and quarters out of my pockets. I had made a discovery that shaped my life. No one who can sing need ever go hungry.

When I hit the road again in the Spring I faced the world with confidence, movies, jukeboxes, radio, and TV were far in the future, and even a ragged kid, singing without accompaniment could pick up the price of a bed and breakfast in almost any saloon, anywhere.

Came the war with Spain. I latched onto a troop train bound for Chickamauga Park, near Chattanooga, Tenn. Hired by a hustling circulation manager, I built up a newspaper route and, as I ate at army chow lines and slept in the hay at the supply base I had no expenses and I prospered.

Army teamsters and packers were civilian employees in the Army of that day. I was fascinated by the packers, a bunch of tough, competent westerners, and I hung out with them until I was a pretty good hand myself. It was claimed that Army chow killed hundreds of soldiers that summer but I thrived on it. And in the autumn of 1898, I was hired as a full-fledged buck packer for the quartermaster corps and shipped to the Philippines.

For two years I helped freight ammunition and rations to the troops beyond the reach of the wagon trains. The going was rugged at times; we were frequently under fire and we carried Colt 45's for defense. But we figured that we were far better off than the soldiers; we always ate and we drew fifty bucks a month instead of the $15.60 of the buck private."

.... I'll stop quoting here. What an amazing man and life! CHEERS, Bob Nelson