j
n
.' .-'!
:"y 1
.i j,-
(j 1 1
f :
fj
. ....
0
I
1 r-
Cm
Lowell with family (from left) Tina, Jeanie and Freddy. Bobby Jr. not pictured.
And he continued moving antiques out ol
Mexico. Unfortunately, the supply was
dwindling. Lowell found himself going
deeper and deeper into Mexico for his
merchandise. It was dangerous territory.
"It's a whole different world down there. It's
a nasty, filthy world you're talkin' dope,
drug runners and . . . guys that run women.
Man, I've seen it all."
Those experiences changed Lowell. By his
own admission, he got meaner.
"Towards the last, I'd eat a burrito and
watch a guy die."
The meanness finally erupted when Lowell
nearly killed a man. He'd just returned from a
particularly bad trip. An old friend invited him
out for a steak dinner. Hoping to unwind,
Lowell accepted the invitation.
He had a glass of beer in hand and was
standing near a shuffle board when a man
accidentally tripped, slamming his elbow into
Lowell's back.
"Man, I had that sucker peeled over that
shuffle board and had that thing (the glass)
broke and at his throat, and the only thing
that stopped me was ... the look of horror on
those people's faces.
"I got the hell out of there, and I thought
all night long, 'Jesus Christ, what has
happened to me? What have I become?' "
Lowell spent the next two days with his
family. He took his boys to the cock fights.
"Even that bothered me a little more than it
ever had."
His wife had left him in 1978 two days
Thursday, February 13, 1986
after Tina, Lowell's youngest daughter, was
born. Lowell was a single parent with four
children. He decided El Paso was not the best
place for a family man. In 1981, he came home
to Lincoln.
His sons got jobs at a restaurant, and for a
while, Lowell made some money by tattooing, a
trade he learned in El Paso.
Then one of his new friends, Rick Petty,
heard him sing and tried to convince him to
start another band and cut a record. Lowell
was hesitant.
By coincidence, a Council Bluffs recording
studio was packaging an album of old
Midwest rock hits, among them "Um-Baby-Baby."
When the studio owner found out
Lowell was in Lincoln, he talked him into re
recording the song, rather than just releasing
the old version. Lowell formed a band and sang
again.
The four-song EP got favorable reviews from
The Omaha World-Herald and Lincoln Journal
Star. Another friend of Lowell's resurrected the
old Roto label and became his manager.
Under his manager's guidance, Lowell
released new songs on the Roto label, and
Billboard magazine took notice:- "Ice Cold
Heart" appeared in the July 20, 1985, new
country release column. On Aug. 3, "Ice Cold
Heart" and "Independence Day" were
mentioned among new pop releases. On Aug.
31, "It's Been So Long" hit the new black
release column, and a biker anthem, "Iron
Pony II," hit the pop column.
Lowell began appearing live with his studio
band, The Wrecking Co. And before the year
was out, The Lincoln Journal-Star Music Poll
named him top male vocalist and entertainer
of the year for 1985. This time he wasn't
compared to Elvis.
Because the band comprised musicians from
several local bands, the players went their own
ways after a few performances. Lowell would
like to form another band and cut more
records, but he says he doesn't want to spend
too much time playing in bars because he's got
a family to care for. Tina is only 8.
So for now, he takes care of his family,
living on record royalties and the money his
sons make. He plans to do more tattooing as
well.
"It's kinda lonely over here," Lowell says.
"I've devoted my life to my kids, really. I
don't party that much and stuff any more. I
don't think it's good for them to be around it
like when they were littler. It didn't make any
difference (then) because they could go to
bed."
Lowell's friends and fellow musicians agree
that he is a family man.
"His family and music come first," says Joe
Gray, the Wrecking Co.'s bassist.
Lowell still sings about chicks and love, but
most of his new songs celebrate the life of a
biker: the highway, black leather, fme-feelin'
women and good parties a lifestyle Lowell
hopes to take up again when his kids are on
3 T
their own. But even with the responsibility of a
family, Lowell says he is doing what he wants
to do. Since his second divorce, he says, he has
been independent.
It is a lateTsummer Wednesday night in
1985. Bobby Lowell looks out across the
smoky bar. Men and women dance on the
open floor. Some lean on the bar, sipping beer
in sweaty glasses.
The Drumstick, one of Lincoln's larger bars,
holds a crowd of bikers. They came to see 48-year-old
Lowell.
His voice is deeper now, more gravelly. He
doesn't dance much. He sings and sways to the
hammer-beat of his band, which pounds out
the rhythm of "Independence Day."
Life's harder than diamonds, Vm
laying out the news . .
Got a reputation I just can't afford to
lose
Vm a true connoisseur of sleazy
women and cheap booze
How I do it is a secret, why I never
have the blues
Vm not taking things lightly, doing
things my way
Just me and Iron Pony since
Independence Day.
This story was done in conjunction with the UNL
College of Journalism's depth-reporting class
taught by Al Pagel, Gannett professional lecturer.
Page 9
Daily Nebraskan
I
