Chapter 37

We were met at the door by Chris Croft and Chuck. Both were smiling even before I stepped inside, following behind the others.

Chris was still shaking my hand wildly when he said, “Jerry, I knew I was making a good investment when I chose to stamp your records here at our studio, and not bid them out. As of Friday at closing time, we have shipped ninety thousand 45 rpm records - to one hundred and fifty record shops across the south and southwest. NOW - to top that off, as of 10:00 this morning, we have received even more orders totaling two hundred and seventy thousand additional records from those same record shops - PLUS - we have orders for one hundred and ninety thousand records from fifty record shops as far away as Florida, Virginia, New York, Illinois and Ohio...

“Not only that, but we have Decca and Columbia wanting to sign dual-release contracts with us, to release all your records simultaneously in certain northern markets - AND - we have Mercury and Capital asking for a distribution only contract, of which we’ll provide the records and they will distribute them in their most progressive Country Markets for a small fee per record.”

“Chris, I just hope you’re making your money back for all your trouble. I’m not sure what all those numbers mean, but thanks for everything you have done, and for helping us get our records out there.”

“Jerry, the way most record sales make money is, after the first five hundred records have sold - that’s on each 45 - the profits start coming in. Then, the more sales we have on each record, the more we make per record.”

“I’m not familiar with your sales or your production. But, if you say we’ll make money and you’ll make money also by supplying the records, I’m happy.”

“Let me put it this way. Since you played at that Country Club back in your hometown - and your records began playing on the radio, your record sales have totaled three hundred and seventy-five thousand. That’s not including the orders I mentioned that will go out this week. Now, at roughly seventy-five cents profit, each - your part gives you about two hundred and eighty-one thousand, in roughly ten days...

“That’s not even counting what you were paid here at The Arlington and at the club in Little Rock.”

“We were paid eight thousand for two nights here at The Arlington, and we were paid a percentage of the gate in Little Rock, which came to ninety-seven hundred total, for both nights.”

“After your first week in Vegas, I would imagine you’ll be able to renew your contract. You and your troupe will be that popular by then. Mark My Word...

“Now, do you want us to keep depositing the income from your record sales in the bank here, along with your commissions - which will start rolling in as soon as we sign the distribution contracts?”

“Yes, I would rather keep it all here in Hot Springs for now. If we ever do start making those really big bucks, I think Sherry wants us to move it to a bigger bank which will pay us more interest.”

“We’ll leave those decisions up to you and Sherry. Now then - we have a hundred each song, of what we call promotional singles - with one of your songs on each side - which you may want to start passing out at your concerts. We’ll need to bring your bus over here before you leave, so we can load them in the luggage compartment underneath the bus.”

With Marlene, Emery and Emily onboard with us, we headed for Texarkana for a four night gig at a large, newly remodeled grocery store - simply called Border Country, which is located on State Line Avenue - which serves as the Texas - Arkansas border.

State Line Avenue has four wide lanes running north and south. There was no parking spaces marked on the street, so I stopped in front of the club to find someone who could tell me where I could park.

Just as I set the brakes and opened the door, there was a young woman running from the club’s entrance.

“YOU’RE JERRY HELTON!”

“I sure am and I need to know where we can park our bus to unload.”

“If it’s okay, I’ll ride with you and show you where to turn so you can come up behind the club.”

“Sure, come on up.”

“Oh - I’m Sylvia - and my Daddy owns Border Country.”

“Hi Sylvia. Nice to meet you. As soon as we park, I’ll introduce you to my sister Sherry and the other members of our troupe.”

“Swing hard to your left, so you can make a right turn onto that narrow street just ahead.”

The large parking lot behind the club is empty this time of day, and after swinging wide to my left again, I made a full circle to park alongside the rear entrance - which we learned later was actually the main entrance when the club is open for business.

We were still busy carrying our instruments and our promotional records inside when I asked Sylvia, “So - is Border Country in Texas, or Arkansas?”

“We’re actually in Arkansas. The reason Daddy decided to have our club on this side of the State Line is, Bowie County, Texas is a dry county and Miller County, Arkansas is a wet county - meaning we can legally serve liquor by the drink inside our club.”

“Do you actually work in the club? You keep saying we.”

“Oh Yes! I turned twenty-one last June. I’m one of the bartenders and I love my job.”

“No offense, but you don’t look twenty-one.”

“Heck, I know I don’t, and all my friends tell me I look too young to work in a bar. I have to tell you though, if I looked like Sherry and all your women friends, I would be so much more happy. But, as you can see, as small as I am, I will never have a body to match Sherry’s.”

“You never know. What are you, 110 and about five foot-five?”

“You’re good at guessing. I’m 112 and five foot-five. I do like my size, but I would kill to have huge titties and a sexy ass like your sister ... and that tall sexy Larieta. Oh Wow! That young woman is a real beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yes she is, and in case you may be interested, she has a tanning lotion that beats the heck out of Coppertone, when it comes to giving you a permanent tan all over your body.”

“Does she really? You mean permanent - like forever - all over my body? Like, everywhere on me?”