Several years ago, while traveling by train from Klamath Falls, Oregon to Seattle, Washington, I had a chance encounter that unveiled a surprising story behind a beloved tune. A fellow passenger had a guitar stowed above our seats, and a casual question led to an unexpected revelation. He mentioned he was a songwriter, and when I inquired about his work, he casually dropped the title, “Oh, Sugar Shack.” My ears perked up immediately. “You wrote ‘Sugar Shack’?” I exclaimed, “I LOVE that song!”
He responded with surprising humility, even dismissing it as “a crap song.” But I was genuinely enthusiastic, explaining to him, “No, it’s the only song I know that truly keeps the memory of the beatniks alive.” Intrigued by the song’s unique vibe, I asked about the inspiration behind it. His answer transported me back to a different era. He recounted his days frequenting an espresso place in New York City, a hub for artists and bohemians. He described the scene vividly: “people like Joan Baez and Bob Dylan” mingling, and “gals with bare feet in black leotards waiting on us and delivering our coffee.” This vibrant, unconventional atmosphere sparked the idea, and just like that, “Sugar Shack” was born.
He further shared that he had been a part of a band called “The Stringalongs,” a group reminiscent of “The Ventures,” known for their instrumental pop guitar music. This explained the catchy, instrumental-driven nature of “Sugar Shack.” However, a twist of fate had impacted his musical legacy. He lamented that all his copyrighted material had been stored in his mother’s basement in Texas, which unfortunately flooded, destroying everything just as his royalties were nearing expiration. He was on his way to Klamath Falls to collaborate with another songwriter, seeking to create new material and perhaps recapture some of that past magic. One of their concepts was intriguingly titled “The Boogie Woman,” exploring the idea of a female counterpart to the mythical “boogie man.”
Before our conversation concluded, he showed me his guitar, a “Seagull,” and generously invited me to play it. I obliged and was impressed by its rich and pleasing tone. This chance meeting transformed a simple train journey into a fascinating glimpse into the origins of a classic song and the life of its unassuming creator. It’s a story I thought worth sharing, a little tidbit about the writer of “Sugar Shack” that adds another layer to the song’s enduring appeal.
