THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 4, 1996 TAG: 9602020208
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Random Rambles
SOURCE: Tony Stein
LENGTH: Medium: 84 lines
I went ahead and asked Ed Beard if he sang for senior citizens' groups because they were too old to chase him. This was more dumb than daring because he is an ex-pro football player still sturdy enough to drop-kick me over the nearest goal post.
He didn't retaliate because (A) he knows I am just kidding and (B) he's a very good singer. So is his wife, Bobbie, and especially his father-in-law, Willie Phelps.
I heard them the other day along with guitarist Sonny Roper. They played at the South Norfolk Community Center, and most of the show was a living definition of mellow. Willie and his brothers, Norman and Earl, were in cowboy movies back in the 1930s.
The Phelps brothers were old South Norfolk boys who made it big-time in country-western music in the 1930s and 1940s. They performed in a bunch of western movies as part of Ray Whitley and the Six-Bar Cowboys, pickin' and singin' around the campfire or in the saloon.
Ed Beard is an old South Norfolk boy, too. He was a standout defensive and special teams player for the San Francisco 49ers from 1965 to 1972 and coached some after that. His most recent retirement was from the Chesapeake Sheriff's Department.
But spending time with Willie apparently got Ed's artistic urges burbling, and he started singing. He even tried to look artistic for a while. It didn't take.
``I saw all these young guys with long hair and ponytails, and I thought it looked cool,'' he says. ``So I grew a ponytail myself. I went to see my mom one day and said `Hi, mom,' and she said `You big sissy.' Then I went to a 49ers reunion in San Francisco and my ex-roommate saw the ponytail. He pulled out a knife. He wasn't kidding. He was going to go after it. I beat a hasty retreat.''
At the community center the other day, Ed cracked up the folks by telling them what happened to his ponytail. He also said that the big black hat he wore to San Francisco blew off and disappeared in a semi-gale. He told Willie Phelps, who suggested a new song - ``I Left My Hat in San Francisco.''
Then Ed, wearing a new hat and no ponytail, thank you, kicked off the show with a solo on ``Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain.'' The accompaniment was taped, and the blend was nice, easy and slow. Bobbie and Ed did some neat duet work, and Bobbie rocked the hall with a sassy number called ``Men.'' Sample lines: ``You can't live with 'em and you just can't shoot 'em. Men!''
Then Willie took over. Big, full voice. Fingers coaxing gutty chords out of the guitar. The oldsters in the audience smiling dreamily as they listened to the slow ones. Or silently mouthing the words to the ones they knew. Or tapping their feet and clapping their hands when Willie picked up the tempo.
In between Willie's songs, I asked Bobbie how a cowboy who played the bass fiddle managed to tote it on a horse. She swore she saw a movie where the cowboy rode along holding the bass in one hand. I'll bet he traded for a harmonica at the next town on the trail.
Willie and Ed and Bobbie and Sonny are doing the show for civic clubs and community groups. If you'd like more information, call 426-5325. But what they would really like to happen is for a singer with a good-sized current reputation to record some of the songs Willie has written.
After exploring Ed's new singing career, I wondered how he felt about the current state of pro football. Salaries, especially. The most money Ed ever made as a very well-regarded player was $37,500 for a whole season.. Today's pro football millionaires make that much in four or five plays, Ed figures. ``I don't begrudge it, but it's kind of ridiculous,'' he says.
He did mention two things that gall him: the foul language that today's players have used on national TV and what he considers an absolute lack of player and owner loyalty.
I can't solve the first problem unless TV announcers have bars of soap ready to shove into sewer mouths. But I have a suggestion that will ease the pain of the second problem. It seems like owners are switching cities and players are switching teams every other day, right? So before each game, let the teams choose up sides like in a kids' sandlot game.
Then, at half-time, the team that's behind gets to pick the five best players on the team that's ahead. This will even things up, and what's the difference since free agency has meant you don't hardly know who's on what team any more anyway.
Hey, pro football, if you like the idea just give me a couple of season tickets. And let Willie and Ed and Bobbie and Sonny sing at half-time at the next Super Bowl. If that happens, Ed might even re-grow his ponytail. by CNB