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It was mid-December of 1987, and the Murphy High Bulldogs were waiting to play for the state 1A football title.
Composed of more-than-usual number of seniors, the Dogs had won 29 of their last 30 games over several seasons.
A coach they beat in the playoffs was quoted as saying, “I didn’t think there was a high school team that could beat mine by 40 points.” Murphy High crushed his team 45-6 and he said, “Now I’ve seen that team … it’s Murphy.”
I had come to Murphy in 1969 as editor of the Cherokee Scout, later advertising director. Became town manager from 1982-86 and now was trying to make a living selling real estate, tough time.
My friend, Bruce Voyles, (a Scout columnist today) had hired me for three days each week to work on his Blade knife magazine in Chattanooga, Tenn., and I was glad to get the gig. Writing and photography, saw a lot of knives.
Country songwriter
Now it’s Monday evening and I’m alone, driving back home on U.S. 64. A song starts coming to me, the tune coming loosely from a truck-driving song by Dave Dudley.
There was also a bluegrass song that asked, “Granny, does your bulldog bite?” It blended with the tune in my head, and soon I was singing, “Murphy, do your Bulldogs bite?”
By dark I was home and on the phone. Never had much money but always had a lot of friends. And they come when I call.
Merle McRae had a music shop and small recording studio on U.S. 64 West, agreed to open it for me that very night. Also Henry Wilson, who died recently, would be coming. Had played with him before, one of the finest Chet Atkins-style pickers in these mountains.
Those were the 8-track days, and Merle produced the song, sort of like making a cake. Henry played lead, and I did the rhythm guitar, and sang and played keyboard. Henry didn’t like my rhythm licks, so he sat down and played that line to his lead track. The finished product had my vocals and a few of my keyboard licks, all on a cassette.
I personally took a cassette of “The Bulldog Song” to each of our radio stations Tuesday morning, and they started playing it. Practically nonstop, the town was abuzz with football fever. Henry’s wife, Brenda, worked at Levi’s and pumped out the song through the workers there.
Another football title
Murphy beat a team from the coastal area 400 miles east of here, easy win 56-15. Long drive home for them.
Local response for my song was fun. Walked past a group of young men at the stadium and heard one say, “Boys, there walks a man who’s a legend in his own time …”
In the bank, overheard one woman say her little 6-year-old boy could sing every word of the song
and do the dance, too. First I’d heard about dance moves.
The week after the big game the radio stations, especially Big Six, continued to play it until I was tired of hearing it. Personally drove out to Harshaw Road and confiscated J.R. Carroll’s copy.
Ran into head football coach David Gentry the next week in the A&P store here, now the 409 Building.
“Good song,” he said.
“Good season,” I said.
Wally Avett first wrote for the Cherokee Scout as editor in 1969. His books are available as signed copies at the Scout in Murphy. Call him at 828-837-5531 or email wallyavett@gmail.com.
