Little did I know that Spring Day of 1956, as I drove my friend, Henry Harris, to his home in Cut and Shoot, Texas, that this would be one of the pivotal days of my life. It began as just another typical day for a high school athlete of the 1950s. Quarterback of the football team, president of my jr. class at Davy Crockett High School in Conroe, Texas, the world was my oyster as we traveled to Henry’s home to engage in boxing at the most fabled boxing center in the nation at the time.
Henry’s brother, Roy Harris, was on the verge of a fight for the world heavyweight boxing championship against Floyd Patterson, the then world champion. My life was intertwined with conditions leading to that event. To begin with, my father, J.T. Montgomery, later principal at Conroe High, upon starting as a coach at Travis Jr. High in Conroe, had, with Henry’s dad, the senior Henry, birthed a boxing program featuring boxing tournaments. These marked the “birth-pangs” of Roy’s public boxing career.
As Henry and I neared a railroad crossing, my magical journey began, as a cousin of Henry’s, whom his family christened “Johnny Axhandle,” was driving just ahead of us. An approaching train alerted me to cry out:
“It appears Johnny is going to challenge that train!” As the oncoming train drew closer, it prompted me to shout, “Go Johnny, go! Don’t drive slow!”
As our hearts pounded with anxiety, Johnny did just that, and thankfully, beat the train to the crossing and survived his brush with death. Upon recovering from the shock, we drove the few remaining miles to Henry’s home to engage in boxing and relax with friends.
On the seven-mile journey home to Conroe that evening, the emotions stirred by the train event began to jell into song. The motivation for that lay in the providential happenstance that, at the time, I was leader of a “rockabilly” band I called “The Wild Robineers”. I fashioned the name “Wild” after “Wildman” Woodman, our lead guitarist, a boyhood neighbor of Roy, whose real name was Campbell. He was also a former great amateur boxer who, by then, had become a teacher at Travis Jr. High under my dad, J.T. Montgomery, his former coach, who had since become the school's principal.
At the time, our band had a half-hour live show on the local radio station KMCO. It was a colorful environment, and for starters, one of my friends working there was a young and extremely talented girl, just one grade ahead of me in school, named Mary McCoy. Of course, back then, no one knew Mary was destined to become the world record holder for the longest stint as a DJ of a country music show. She was also a great musical artist in her own right, who cut several albums. Mary also, on occasion, was a guest on my own program entitled “Wild Robineers”.
One of those programs stands out: I was doing my Elvis-like section, and the girls were screaming as my moccasin shoes slipped from my feet and landed among the crowd, never to be recovered. Then, suddenly, when jumping off the stage in excitement, the music stopped. I had unknowingly unplugged my guitar from the band amplifier.
Eventually, Mary made some major moves in the music business, including a stint on the famed “Louisiana Hayride,” where she began what blossomed into a close friendship with none other than the “King,” Elvis Presley. Among the expressions of their friendship was her making accommodations for him at a performance in Conroe. Along the way, in later life as a semi-retired professor, I wrote a book about Mary, entitled “Mary McCoy: Conroe’s Country Music Legend.”
Another highlight of my teenage musical career was receiving an invitation to perform at the “Big D Jamboree” in Dallas. This happened to be the same night that the musical legend, Johnny Cash, was also performing. Amazing was that performance, as suddenly his usual somber appearance disappeared. Cash, pulling up his collar and spreading his legs, began to imitate Elvis Presley, all to the surprise and delight of the privileged crowd on that night.
Now, back to my journey home after the train episode that day near the Cut and Shoot Boxing Camp in 1956: Something moved me that very night to turn to the piano, which I had taught myself to play by incorporating guitar techniques. This, parenthetically, prompted people occasionally to say, “You play the keyboard well, but like a guitar”.
The very night that Johnny raced the train and I cried, “Go, Johnny,” the event prompted me to write a song to which I gave that very title. Its popularity was such with kids around our area that the manager of Radio KMCO, “Boots” Ogelsby, encouraged me to go to Houston and make a tape of the number. Upon obliging him, we soon learned that the people at the recording studio had sent the tape to an RCA facility in New York. Here, the magical journey took flight.
In the immediate aftermath, on numerous occasions, Boots, with a worried look, exclaimed the immortal words: “Robin, I am not sure what is happening, but they are messing with your song!” Along the way, I managed to procure an official copyright of the song in August of 1956. Along the way, the song continued to gender great response among my teenage fans, helping generate demand for multiple appearances at my high school sock hops, along with an appearance on Houston TV’s “Teenage Bandstand.”
At the end of my senior year in high school, 1957, I was undecided about whether to pursue a musical career. So, instead, I pursued a football scholarship as an all-district and honorable mention all-state quarterback and commuted, for the first year, to nearby Sam Houston State. This enabled me to retain the flexibility to seriously consider several possibilities and connections I had in the music business.
It was in that year, 1958, that the song “Johnny B Goode” hit the market. Great was the response, as music stations across the nation lit the fire on the rocket that would take the impactful, rising singer, Chuck Berry, to musical immortality. Even to the date of this writing, the song is yet ringing its way to further musical immortality, as it has been launched into outer space!
This incredible event is the basis of the title of this piece, “My Link to the Eternity of Outer Space,” for we know not where fate might take the song in the realms of the whole universe.
The Aftermath
Naturally, my friends and I at Radio KMCO were rather aghast at the similarities of the two songs. We noted the setting featured in the 1958 Chuck Berry song was of a guitar picker “back up in the woods” named Johnny B Goode. While my song had burst into my mind as I, a guitar-picking lad traveling the magnificent back-woods country of Cut and Shoot, Texas. Then, the chorus of the song especially hit home, with words nearly identical to those of my own song.
Rather astounded by the impact and lyrics of “Johnny B. Goode,” Boots at the radio station and others convinced me to finally make my own recording of my song. This we did, on Orbit Records. However, our recording was in 1960, after the release of “Johnny B Goode,” so it ironically prompted cries of my echoing Chuck Berry, rather than the other way around.
Still, the experience remains a highlight of my life as I recall with grand nostalgia the help of members and friends of the studio of KMCO, who generously forfeited their time and efforts to take the journey with me to Houston to provide accompaniment on my record. At the request of two members of the KMCO team, W. Robinson and Boots Ogelsby, I recorded on the flip side of the record their song, “You’re 18 and I’m 21.” As of this writing, these recordings may still be accessible if one Searches for “Robin Montgomery, Go Johnny” on Google.
Coincidence or by Deliberation, the truth may never be revealed about the true origin of the song (see, for instance, the parenthetical link of Chuck Berry’s song to a high school singer in the Movie ”Back to the Future number one). Yet, certain is the magic of the movement of “Johnny B Goode” into the magnificent splendor of our Lord’s Outer Space.
Dr. Robin Montgomery is a native of Montgomery County and a historian, author, retired professor and columnist for The Courier.
“It appears Johnny is going to challenge that train!” As the oncoming train drew closer, it prompted me to shout, “Go Johnny, go! Don’t drive slow!”