Despite Bogalusa being twice the size it currently is, in many ways it was a small tight-knit community in the 1970s. When Bill conceived building a recording studio, his vision ranged globally. One idea was a studio on a ship that could go to the artists instead of the artists coming to him. Being a consummate sound technician, in addition to his other, numerous, talents. Bill realized the acoustical limitations and unavoidable superfluous "sounds" a floating studio would be faced with, made a floating studio impractical.
Bill ultimately set his sights on a land-based facility in his home town. As with any business venture, the land-based idea had its drawbacks. Bill contracted an acoustic design firm from the LA area, I believe the company was Westwood One. He then began to envision solutions to the drawbacks the facility would face. One thought was a western town built on the sprawling grounds. The buildings could serve as housing, saloons, meal preparation and entertainment for visiting artists allowing all to remain near their work for sessions that could last months.
I was honored to have unique access to Studio in the Country. As a high school student who played bass in a rock band, my curiosity (and pride) was piqued. Bill's father and mine were friends, Bill and I were friends and my uncle, Luther Cooper, was the contractor for the construction. I watched as the building transformed from metal bones to the architectural masterpiece that is still as contemporary today as it was in 1972.
After high school I remained involved in music, not as a musician but as a radio "DJ" and station owner. Record labels would routinely send promotional copies of newly released material to WBOX, the station I owned. I remember receiving "Greezy Wheels – Juz Loves Dem Ol' Greezy Wheels", reading the liner notes I screamed with joy. It was a Studio in the Country project, Bill Evans and Lee Peterzell's name was on it. Then I realized the genre was not appropriate for the format of my station. I phoned Bill, who drove the quarter mile north from his studio to my radio station, and I presented the album to him.
This is but one memory I have of my friendship with Bill. Other memories include the release party for Kansas’ Leftoverture. That night I learned that what “they” say about getting drunk on champagne was true. The album was premiered while I sat in a semi-conscious state on the couch that sat directly in front of the mixing console. In the end, my inebriation actually worked to my advantage. The following day I returned to the studio, explained to Bill that I was incapacitated and was treated to a solo premier while sitting at the console in the stereo window.
It was two years ago that I last had a lengthy and meaningful conversation with Bill. I'll echo what others have said about Bill's love and pride in his children. It has also been mentioned that Bill was supportive and encouraging, always ready to extend a hand of love, support and encouragement. Both of us encountered some business setbacks at one point in our lives and when I would see Bill he would share words of wisdom, hope and encouragement that lifted me. I thank him, deeply, for those words!
The last time I visited the studio was around 30 years ago when, then owner, Eugene Foster threw a party to thank those of us who had been part of the history of Studio in the Country. Bill was there as were many others. It had been a long time since I had been to the studio and I was overwhelmed with feelings of melancholy for days gone by.
In learning of Bill's passing, I'm again overwhelmed with feelings of melancholy and sadness. But the memories of those days, thoughts of his family and their effervescent and gregarious personalities and knowing that all of them know. . . . . Bill "Bleu," loves you!
Share with others
Donate in memory
