Thursday, September 18, 1986
Charlie
Good,
Evil &
Garage Sa
y
Stew
Magnuson
Garage sales and Charlie Burton
two of Lincoln's finest institu
tions. But weekend rummage sales
and Lincoln's greatest rock 'n' roller
have more in common than institu
tion status: Burton has written two
of the all-time great garage sale
songs, "Garage Sale" and "One Man's
Trash."
Charlie and I set out on a glorious
Saturday afternoon to search for the
cardboard signs pointing the way to
garages full of bric-a-brac and hope
fully, old records our mutual
passion.
Burton is more than a long time
Lincoln rocker and songwriter. He
is, above all, an entertainer. It's
impossible not to have a great time
when Charlie and his band, the Hic
cups are on stage. At the Zoo bar,
while Charlie plays some of his clas
sics, "Breath For Me Presley," "Rock
'n' Roll Behavior" or "Bum Ticker,"
he shakes his black, curly hair
around, kicking up a leg when
drummer Dave Robel hits a choice
beat and yelps "OW! OW!" when the
song comes to a close.
During the slow songs, Charlie
jumps off the stage and rolls around
on the beer-sticky floor, fake-bawling
his eyes out at the foot of some
embarrassed patron's table while
people on their way to the bathroom
are forced to step over him. When
Charlie cries, everyone laughs. The
man is just plain silly, and his shows
are just plain entertaining.
" see a sign on a poleand I
lose all my self controlYou
never know just what you'll
findHave you got your 'sNow,
I got mine."
Finding the first sale wasn't dif
ficult. On a table in someone's
backyard, we find a stack of old 45s.
Charlie, wearing purple prescrip
tion glasses, inspects the pile. He
picks out "Oh Julie," by Dale Warden
on Dot Records.
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les V) f A
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"We just don't have the college
market," he replies, picking up an
old gas station ashtray. "Artisti
cally, we've fallen between the
cracks. We're too hippy for the
punks, and too punk for the hippies.
Charlie buys the Dale Ward single
and the ashtray. I make off with two
singles and a Mrs. Potatohead to
keep my Mr. Potatohead at home
happy.
"I found my baby at a garage
saleI found my baby at a
garage saleI bought her
mama's decoupage pailI
found my baby at a garage
sale."
Since last year's release of The
Hiccup's latest LP, "I Heard That,"
much has happened to Charlie and
the band. The album sold "ade
quately," and got him "adequate"
recognition. It was reviewed in The
Village Voice and Musician Maga
zine, and will be released in Europe
on a French label, GMG.
"That's enough to give us the will
to live," he says as we drive up to the
next sale. The Hiccups also have a
new bassist, Dave Boye, replacing
Tommy Reardon, who left the band
to live in Seattle.
Charlie has also gone through a
"D-I-V-O-R-C-E" he says, spelling it
out in the George JonesTammy
Wynette tradition. He didn't want it
discussed in print though. To help
pay the bills, he found a part-time
job in a local music store.
We look through a pile of books at
a porch sale.
"What would be a fitting pun
ishment for those who leave their
old garage sale signs up for weeks,
making people look for a sale that
ended weeks ago?"
"Certainly, there is no punish
ment too harsh for such offenders,"
Charlie says.
"Among the clothes and K-
t
Daily Nebraskan
tel DiscsOur eyes they met,
amidst the misc.You could
sense ELECTRIC SHOCKSThat
started all the as-is clocks. "
Charlie and I hit a few more sales,
most of them bad; just old pots and
pans and ugly clothes. Eventually,
around 21st and Garfield Streets,
we find a yard sale not a garage
sale mind you where Charlie
finds some interesting books, "How
To Be Jewish" and "A Honeymoon
er's Companion." I contemplate
buying an electric brick, which
would be a weird find, but sort of a
gift-store contrived-sort-of-weird, not
true weird, like Mrs. Potatohead.
"What's your best garage sale
finds, Charlie?"
"A 1959 Champ amp with a tweed
cover in mint condition, and a three
part Gene Vincent Rocks and the
Blue Caps Roll EP for a penny
apiece."
Last spring, Charlie cut his knee
on a piece of broken glass while
playing at the Zoo Bar.
"I slipped, I stumbled, I fell," he
says, quoting an Elvis song as we
search the near-south neighborhoods
for more sales. He spent ten days in
the hospital and underwent three
"painful operations after the knee
became infected.
"But I was on Demerol, and that
was Elvis' favorite drug."
"Where were you when Elvis died?"
I ask.
"I was working in the family
Harpsicord business when a band
member (Butch Beerman, former
guitarist) called and told me. I
didn't really believe him 't il I turned
on the radio and every si ton was
playing "Love Me Tender."
"NowuieYemarriedandhave
a homeWe have garage sales
all our ownLovely to look at,
delightful to holdBut don't
you break it, or else it 's sold!"
We hit a real dry period as far as
old records go. We do find some
stacks of discs, but they're inevita
bly of the Bee Gees, Foreigner,
Shawn Cassidy variety. At one sale
along a busy street, we start rum
maging through two boxes of books.
One box is full of children's books,
old Dennis the Menace and Archie
Comics, the other box has exclu
sively sordid pornography, old copies
of Forum Magazine and X-rated
paperbacks. I look up at the middle
age couple sitting on the porch;
they didn't look the type. Charlie
and 1 later wonder aloud about
these weekend merchants of porn.
"It must be quite an internal bat
tle for them. Good versus evil. It's,
something I've been thinking a lot
about lately," Charlie says.
"Are you worried your- music is
turning children to Satan??' : " - -
"Naw." :
Just down the block from the box
of porn, we look at some bric-a-brac
laying on the lawn, stretched out on
a blanket.
"Will there ever be a time, when
you'll quit? You've been at this a
long time."
"No," he says. "It "seems like
you're either Bruce in this business
or you're starving. I guess I still
believe in myself."
"Do you mind if I ask your age?"
"No. I'll be 36 next week; I'm a
year younger than Bruce, and you
know, I always will be. I'm the same
age as John Cougar Mellenwhat- .
ever . . . But wealth, fame, is this
what's really important to me? Yeah,
it is."
We drive put to far-south Lincoln'
looking for an advertised sale prom
ising "old music records." We go so
far south, the inhabitants have a
southern drawl. But we can't find
the sale.
"What about rumors that Peter
Buck, REM's guitarist, is interested
Page 5
Andrea HoyOaily Nebraskan
in producing your next album?"
"He had expressed interest about
a year ago, but whether he would
still be interested is another thing."
Charlie weighs the pros and cons
of having a celebrity produce his
next album, which could go into
works this November. The attention
his album would get would be great,
he admits, but he'd almost rather
have a person buy his album for his
music instead.
"But as long as they buy it, what
the hell?"
We give up on the mythical far
south multi-family garage sale and
decide to call it quits. We must pass
a hundred garage sale signs on our
way back, ... -
"Last year in an interview, you
said you were in a transition period.
JIow are things different?-' . -:r :
."WelI, I .Kave;abrokerrittarriage, ;
I'm financially strapped and I had
to get a part-time job, but I'm
happy .. . . Through it all my . art:
survives."
"Do you think artists have to :
suffer to create good art?" "
"They shouldn't have to, but it
seems to help me. It (suffering)
doesn't make me write more, but I
guess the depth of experience makes
it better." - . .;,
At Charlie's house, we say good-
; bye. Charlie walks through his Mi
ni owed lawn and steps into the door . ,
of his one-story white home, which
desperately needs painting. The. day's .
final tally, Charlie: one 45, an ash
tray and two books. Stew: one Mrs.' ;
Potatohead, a pair of checked vans,
and two 45s. '
"One man 's trash is another -man
's treasureOne man 's
pain is another man's plea- "
sureThose records are worth '
lots of cashAnd they're mine,'
cause one man 's trash, is ano
ther man 's treasureOh yes it
is." ; .
