Chris and I attended church anonymously on Sunday morning. Then we had a good time just driving around and resting the rest of the day. Monday morning we checked out of the hotel and went over to the studio. They had an assistant take our luggage and other things over to the new hotel where they checked us into a suite under the name of the studio.

(I will not go into Chris and my activities after hours. We did the usual things that I have already described. But even vivid descriptions of the same old things get boring, and we will get to the hot parts again in the next few chapters …) 

The producer took us into the main studio and let us set it up the way we wanted it to be. We had our guitars and would accompany ourselves for the initial vocal tracks, but they would be replaced on the final cut by session musicians. They would have several musicians play the same part on different tracks and then select the best one for the final cut. We had 128 tracks to play with, so they wanted us to take full advantage of what they had to offer.

We sat around jamming on the different songs we had selected in order to relax so that the studio engineer could establish basic recording levels. Then we both recorded the guitar parts of the songs together. Separately, we went into different sound booths and recorded our vocals while the guitar tracks played through our headphones. That afternoon, we went into the main studio together and did tracks of us singing harmony. We probably did twenty or more takes of the first few songs. Later that evening, we reviewed the tapes and the engineer did a preliminary mix. The producer would use that mix for the session musicians to listen to when they recorded their parts. That first day was drudgery.

Both of us were experienced in the recording studio—Chris more than me. But for me it was all different now because I never had to make any decisions before—Daddy had done it all.  I just did as I was told. Now I was paying my share of the sessions and had some say in the final outcome. After the first day, the basic routine and nervousness was over and we could focus more on the singing and less on the mechanics of the process.

Although we practiced all the other songs that first day, we only recorded “Battleground” and one other song.  For better or worse, we had a time schedule and planned to record a total of twelve songs during the first three days. On Tuesday evening we had an appointment with one of the top photographers in Nashville for publicity stills and other promotional photographs. We were in his studio until almost midnight for both casual and formal poses. He promised to have the proofs ready for us by the time I got back from my southern tour. Chris and I would then select the ones we wanted for the CD cover brochure and for our promotions of it. We planned to order thousands for our tour. Wednesday and Thursday we would continue in the studio until it was time for me to be picked up by the family.

Chris and the studio engineers would do the final mix and deliver the master to the label early the following week.  Hopefully, the CDs would be cut and distributed within the month. Meanwhile, I would be on the road with my family and then on to California for the awards show and the west coast tour. Chris and I would then be free to do a promotional tour for the actual release of our CD.

Daddy and the family picked me up late Thursday evening in Nashville and off we went for a three week tour of the South.  Then we would fly to California for the music awards show and then our tour of the west coast. I was looking forward to it because the family had never played anywhere out of the South.

In the week since the Opry show, “Ripples” was back in the #1 spot on the gospel charts and “I Surrender” had finally broken into the top ten. So things had taken a decided upturn since we had been apart.  Daddy was going to become wealthy from royalties, both as songwriter and as one of the artists on those two songs alone.  As for the royalties for the actual release, each partner would have their shares deposited into trust funds except for mine. They would be paid into my personal corporation and invested by the attorneys’ staff.

It was different being back with the family—very different.  I had to force myself to be a boy again instead of a man.  The white suit that I wore on the Opry and for the photographer went into the basement storage of the bus. When I was on stage or in church singing, I was back in the family uniform. Even though I was one of the leaders of the group, off stage I was just another one of my Daddy’s kids—no better and no worse than the youngest in the group. That was hard to get used to again after the special way that Chris had treated me. Despite my anticipation of all of the good experiences and things to come in the next few months, I was homesick for the two weeks of freedom that I had enjoyed with Chris.  Now, it was back to the discipline of being home schooled by Mamma, as well as life in the family music business.

The coach made it easier to take. Unlike the Silver Eagle, it had dual rear axles and air ride so it floated with a softness that made sleeping easy. Daddy had “auditioned” several experienced entertainer’s bus drivers .The one he hired was paid a premium salary and he earned it by careful driving to give us the most comfortable ride possible.

My room had more privacy than the old one and also had a regular lower bunk. But there was also a fold-down upper bunk like a Pullman. When Daddy designed the coach, I justified having the extra bunk by telling him that I would like to have Bobby or some other friend travel with us once in a while just to keep in touch with what it was like to have a life as a real teenager. Bobby and I had maintained contact with each other over the years. As you may remember, Bobby was my annual partner in those early revival days when I was finding myself. We had pledged our eternal friendship long ago, and if I had ever had a true friend my own age, it was him.

My room also had a small sink and a mirror where I could do my own stage makeup for when we did shows—even gospel performers needed to put on makeup because the harsh stage lights and the spotlight washes out all of your features when you are viewed from the audience. And from my own egocentric prospective, I wanted to be seen—but I didn’t want those damn girls screaming. Although it gave me a certain charge when they did it, secretly I just wished it was just the boys …

I also had all the electronics that I could want—TV and VCR, radio, and a big stereo setup and video games.  Chris had given me a boxed set of all his CDs, and I was determined to memorize his best songs in case we wanted to sing them together on our future tour. 

We headed south into Alabama and did package shows in three major cities, as well as performances in many large churches and a few multi-day revivals.  Daddy was in top preaching form, and if he had his way, we would have done revivals in smaller churches as well. That, after all, was his calling. But the fact was that we were all getting spoiled by the success we were having.

We were not financially spoiled, but realistically, the cost of keeping the family on the road in the style we were fast becoming accustomed to was over $60,000 monthly.  All the fuel, maintenance, bus mortgage payments, driver’s salary, sound system, and so on, added up to a considerable amount. As much as Daddy might have nostalgia for the good old days of sleeping in someone’s spare bedroom and running the roads all night in an old Chevy, I hoped we would never have to go back to those “good old days!”

(Momentarily jumping ahead to the conclusion of the story many chapters in the future, that is exactly what Daddy and Mamma eventually did—they retired from the road and resumed preaching revivals in smaller congregations.)

At every show we had a booth or table set up in the lobby selling CDs, tapes, T-shirts and other Stone Family memorabilia. We always announced, “Don’t forget to stop by “Stonemart” on your way home tonight and get yourself one of our CDs …” Then we would announce our “blue light” specials of the week.

We now received top billing and top money for most shows and when we played in churches, management could demand a guarantee on the love offerings.  It was now almost a “Love Demand”.  Due to our growing fame, we now sometimes regretted having the Stone Family logo on the sides of the coach, because it became tiresome stopping in rest areas and truck stops and trying to do things like normal families.  We had to graciously give out pictures and autographs and generally be available to talk to one and all.

Our next stops were Georgia, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and then, after three weeks, back home to Tennessee.  When we got ready to turn off the interstate highway towards the Hollow, we saw a new lighted billboard that read, “Welcome to Hastings, Tennessee, Home of Billy Ray Stone and the Stone Family!”  I was completely flabbergasted!  I said to Daddy, “I wonder if any of those guys that used to kick my tail in school for being that ‘preacher’s kid’ now want to claim to be my best friend …” Daddy just looked at me and grinned.  

To be continued...