BILLY RAY CYRUS
(PART 3)

Editor’s note:

This series on Billy Ray Cyrus appeared several years ago in The Greenup Beacon. It was a work provided by Gregg Davidson a frequent contributor to the paper. This series has been revised with some new information ad restructuring by its author. The content presented is of his work and we have protected his poetic license. Any content or opinion in this series is his work and doesn’t express the paper’s stance or opinion.

Between 1986 and 1992, a series of unlikely events occurred that dramatically changed the life of Billy Ray Cyrus. Against what some would consider his better judgment, BRC eloped with Ironton native Cindy Smith (some sources state her name as Cindy Lewis) and fired and his elder brother Kevin “Kebo” Cyrus from their band Billy Ray & The Breeze.

Both choices were highly speculated upon by those that personally knew and loved Billy, especially by his family. While he later admits that at that time he was drinking more than at any other point in his life, experiencing a reckless “wild streak” that he apparently now regrets, he also states that he tried his best to honor his commitments to Cindy, his fans, and the band.

With Kebo out of the picture, what was left of the band quickly fell apart. The departing members including Westwood bassist Joey Adkins (now with Mojo King), Ironton drummer Bob Anders (now with Pay Dirt), and guitarist Bobby Phillips (now deseased) left Billy in a state of suspended limbo, but he pressed on. Never giving up on pursuing his dream of becoming a recording artist, he continued to make weekly jaunts to Nashville in search of the right connection.

With the future state of his career unsure, it did indeed seem like an odd time to suddenly become a newlywed and effectively obliterate your only real steady means of personal income. But in the Music City, several key developments would soon prove crucial to his smoldering desire for fame and fortune.

One step forward came in September 1987 when Billy signed a personal management and booking deal with Scott Faragher, a former talent scout who founded his own booking agency, In Concert International. The only problem was, Billy needed a band and he needed one quick.

As if on cue, that opportunity came in the form of an invitation to join The Players, a hard-working Huntington, WV-based band led by another career-conscious musician. Bassist Harold Cole had already known Billy for years and had even approached him in 1984 about fronting The Players at a time when Billy’s band Sly Dog were packing them in at Changes, a trendy nightclub in Ironton.

Having declined the original offer, Billy now excitedly agreed to take Cole up on his offer, but it came with a strange condition. The Players already had a front-man, a talented singer named Robbie Ernst, but Cole knew that Billy brought an element to the show that was hard to pass up and had a plan. The deal was that Billy and Robbie would share back-up and lead vocal duties, with Billy playing some guitar and contributing to the songwriting, but both singers still had a vote in choosing cover songs.

Between Cole’s booking schedule for The Players and Faragher’s live performance arrangements, the band were able to tour several states over the course of the next few months. The situation must have been an encouraging, yet uncomfortably strange arrangement for the two vocalists, but things went surprisingly well and Billy was quickly learning new material, focusing more intently on writing new tunes, and getting his first true taste of band life on the road, even if it only involved playing for 45 minutes as a warm-up band.

Cole had always kept his Players working every weekend he could manage to, and in an attempt to please the audience and band members alike, their set list grew steadily more encompassing, if eclectic. This diversity increased their marketable value and allowed the band to book more in-town or nearby shows between road jaunts. By the time that the roving Players returned for their first public appearance near their own hometowns, they had tweaked the set list to where everyone felt confident.

On April 13, 1988, they debuted their act at the Ragtime Lounge on Huntington’s west end. It was the beginning of the stuff that legends are made of.

Intensive touring had well prepared the band for a four-nights-a-week routine, and they easily settled right in at the venue. It would turn out to be the proving ground for BRC, and the place where his personal following really began to build steam and snowball. Years later the nightclub would reopen as “R.T. Champs” (R.T. for “Ragtime”) after becoming damaged by fire.

Cole’s tenaciousness and business contacts, combined with the group’s strong work ethic, versatile set list, and eye-candy in the beefcake visage of Billy Ray, allowed the band to be cherry-picked for future booking consideration upon the occasion that any impromptu gig offers might arise. One such booking came suddenly only two days later. Due to an injury sustained by a member of the intended opening act, Richard Marx was in need of a fill-in warm-up group before his appearance at the Huntington Civic Center, and Cole made sure to nab the coveted spot for The Players.

The band personnel included BRC and Ernst, Cole, drummer Doug Fraley, keyboardist David Baxley, and guitarist Terry Shelton, the Players’ former sound engineer. Although the act seemed to be working well, Ernst had only stuck it out for about six months before he decided to exit the group in June. Billy easily slid right into the center spotlight, and the name of the band suddenly, if unofficially, became Billy Ray & The Players (pictured).

When the band next appeared at the Huntington Civic Center as the opener for REO Speedwagon on September 16th, Billy left no doubt that he had what it takes to exact excitement from an audience that wasn’t necessarily there to see him at all. Another 1988 event that helped to soon bolster BRC's burgeoning pro career was a chance Nashville encounter with the freelance journalist Kari Reeves, a strikingly beautiful blonde, who upon a suggestion from Faragher, interviewed Billy for a magazine article in an industry trade magazine named Entertainment Express.

Kari is the daughter of Grand Ole Opry member Del Reeves, a beloved entertainer who placed her among his staff at the business offices of his Del Reeves Productions. Kari claims to have sensed something special and just a little desperate about Billy Ray, becoming uncontrollably attracted to his chiseled good looks and naturally charming sensitivity. According to her, his all-consuming need and determination to succeed, frequent pleas for career advice, and consoling companionship made them fast friends.

Regardless of any suggestion of romance, Kari did introduce both Billy's original music and despondent situation to her father, finally persuading him to make a trip to the Ragtime in order to give Billy’s drawing power a personal assessment. Impressed with the lad’s raw talent and relentless perseverance, the elder Reeves decided to help out the struggling kid with hunger in his eyes upon the expiration of the Faragher contract. In early 1989, he signed the thrilled singer/songwriter to a standard Production Agreement contract, an arrangement wherein Del Reeves Productions agreed to organize and finance recording sessions, and subsequently take further measures by pitching the demos to possibly interested label scouts and other contacts, while providing interim management services prior to any new representational arrangements that might be attained. All for a thirty percent cut of any earnings.

In February, Baxley and Fraley (now with the Dennis Smith Band) bowed out of The Players and were replaced by two other Kentucky musicians: former Zachariah drummer Steve French from Flatwoods (a schoolmate of mine and Billy’s at Russell High), and Ashland-born (but Grayson-raised) keyboardist Barton Stevens. They eagerly joined the Players and began working up the group’s material, still mostly covers, but also containing a few original compositions.

Soon, Billy and Terry Shelton began a series of recording sessions at Del’s own Allisongs Studio in Nashville. Del was apparently pleased with the results, and began planning to appropriate a new personal management deal for his recent acquisition. That deal arrived if the form of Del's own former manager, Jack McFadden.

As a personal manager for artists like Buck Owens, Merle Haggard, Keith Whitley, and Lorrie Morgan, Jack carried considerable clout in Nashville. If convinced that Billy had what it takes, he could book the boys on cross-country US tours as an opening act at much larger venues than they were accustomed to. He was not at first completely sold on them, instead exhibiting restraint in spite of the Reeves’ adamant endorsements and hard-sell pitches.

At a scheduled February meeting, Billy brought some demos tapes to Jack's office and left feeling dejected when told that there was no time that day to give them a listen. Kari began socializing with Jack's wife Jo and slowly got her interested in Billy Ray too. That was the catalyst that prompted Jack to sign on as BRC’s personal manager on July 24, 1989, a move that helped to open new avenues to the artist that he could never have otherwise anticipated. McFadden then began his own sales pitches to mainly deaf ears, but one day during lunch, he ran into Harold Shedd, the head of Mercury/Nashville, a company under the umbrella of the media giant, Polygram Records and casually mentioned BRC and his star quality.

Shedd revealed no immediate interest, but during a second luncheon encounter, Jack convinced him to send his label partner Paul Lucks to attend a show in Louisville where BRC was the opener for Country Music sensation Reba McEntire. Lucks was intrigued when he watched Reba's largely female audience swoon over the new and relatively unknown, but remarkably handsome hillbilly hunk.

He soon reported his observations back to Shedd, agreeing with Reeves and McFadden that maybe the muscular singing stud was indeed ready for a chance at true stardom. However, before any official papers were drawn up, Shedd decided to fly yet another label rep to the Ragtime one night to assess just why this kind of excitement supposedly seemed to follow the Kentucky singer wherever he went.

Afterwards, Mercury's Buddy Cannon claimed to have played witness to a spectacle that he hadn't beheld since the early career of Elvis Presley. What he found was a packed house of adoring females that seemingly lost all grip on their senses over Billy Ray, amorously tossing clothing and underclothing onstage in a primal and feverish nature reminiscent of some beastly mating ritual, all the while screaming in sheer ecstasy.

I can attest to the ferocity of the ladies who attended the Ragtime during BRC's attendance. I stopped in on occasion to hang out with my friends and watch the circus that the audience had become, but once showed up just to play three songs with my own bandmates on a Sunday evening, the venue’s designated "Jam Night" or "Open Mic Night". While there was some slight semblance of attention from Billy's crowd, I recall thinking that our set was only a minor distraction to his faithful flock who kept looking away toward the kitchen door in hopes of catching a glimpse of their dream man’s buffed profile darkening the doorway.

There was an amazing amount of growing competitiveness among the lusty, lipsticked legion of BRC followers, complete with backbiting and slanderous verbal assaults. Occasionally, some of the confrontations culminated in out-and-out fistfights and hair-pulling marathons over suspected threats either real or imagined.

One night, in my absence, a frantic woman tried to set fire to Billy’s wife’s hair. On another packed night during a set break, I was standing near the women’s restroom and overheard a boisterous conversation concerning what one of Billy’s female fans was willing to do to another girl in order to get his attention. I admired her determination, but her tirade was so peppered with spicy language that it would make The Osbournes blush.

I had seen unbridled adulation up close and personal before (especially expressed at a Bon Jovi concert), but outside of watching film clips of Elvis and The Beatles, I had never witnessed any comparable level of aggressive behavior from a swarm of females all vying for one singer’s attention on such a scale before. It was both exciting and alarming at the same time, but one thing was certain, Billy was hot property and his flame was growing ever higher in leaps and bounds.

This is exactly the environment that Cannon walked into when he made his personal pilgrimage to The Ragtime Lounge to see what the clamor surrounding BRC was all about. Even though Shedd was impressed with Cannon's enthusiastic report, he was still dragging his feet about signing the singer, suspecting that the entire scene could easily have been a “set up” in order to fool the label into offering a deal, and his interest cooled... but not for long.