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Interview with: Texas Johnny Brown
Interviewed by: Erin Norris
Date: January 13, 2011
Archive Number: OH E 003
I: (0:00) It’s January 13, 2011, and I’m Erin Norris with Houston Metropolitan Research Center speaking today with Texas Johnny Brown.
I: Mr. Brown welcome.
B: Thank you. It’s so nice to be here, and happy for you to have me here.
I: Sure, we appreciate your coming. Well let’s kind of start at the beginning with a little bit of your musical background? How old were you when you started playing?
B: When I started playing, I’d say as you—is to know I had an idea of what I was doing, I’d say it would be upwards of age about 12 to 13. I started out with my dad. My daddy and I were playing, as you might say, street corners. My dad played guitar. I didn’t play guitar. I played a tambourine. He played guitar and sing, and we would do street corners. My dad was blind, and I used to lead him around, and we was confounded white call it panhandling because it was survival. It was a way of making a living. I must tell you the whole story (talking at the same time)
B: because this is what is here. It’s what it’s about. It was my daddy and I and my dad’s dog. My dad had a dog that was—he raised the dog himself. A Seeing Eye dog would lead him around, go you know, and he taught this—and then he taught this dog on how to—when I first played guitar, I mean that’s what he did the dog.
I: Really? (01:54)
B: Now to explain to you how this happened, my dad would take the guitar, and he’d sit on a stool. He’d put the guitar across his legs, the dog would squat, put his paws up on the strings, and then he would paw the strings, and my dad would sing a little song and make the chords, and the dog would be pawing on it.
I: And so the dog would paw on the guitar strings?
B: Yeah, and we did this on street corners and collect money, making collections, and that was our little show, and that was what we did, and it worked in that it was a great part of survival, and with that trio I think that we had, we worked in different places. We traveled around through the State of Mississippi, and Louisiana, Arkansas, and we got lucky one time right there in Natchez, Mississippi to where basically we was at home. They have a thing there every year, the first of the year, and I think it starts along about March. It’s called the Pilgrimage. They have all those Southern colonial homes there, and it was a tourist thing, and we happened to be at the headquarter part in Natchez, and was doing that same little show in the front of the building, and it was a producer who came from Hollywood was there. He was there making a tour of those homes, and they were saying because they was in the process of doing a movie, and he observed us being there and what we were doing. We got—we became a part of their movie. (04:11)
I: And what was the name of the movie?
B: The name of the movie was Virginia.
B:: And..(talking at the same time)
I: Do you recall what actors were in it?
B: You know I think—and the actors that was in that was—I think Marie Wilson was in there, Madeleine Carroll, Sterling Hayden. God it was—I can’t recall their names right now, but anyway—and the movie itself was—it was filmed in Virginia, and we went to—we traveled up to Virginia to do that. They paid us very well because they know the money that we were making then was good. They paid us $25 each, myself, my dad, and the dog.
I: Was that per day or total?
B: That was per day.
B: With all the lodging and foods and everything. All we did was lay up and wait for them to say it was time to go to the scene, to the site you know, and we’d go up there, and then what happened, we were there for a quite an extent of time because the weather got bad, and while the weather was going on, the buildup was dead. They couldn’t do no shooting so mostly we did was just lay around the hotel, and eat, sleep, and have a good time. It went on for at least about 5—about 5, 6 or 7 weeks it went on like that, and until we returned, we was still employed until we returned home, and we were like—so that turned out very good. It turned out nice. For that, now the—actually the question was about when did I begin playing music? I began to play, as you might call, professionally when I came to Houston. (06:30)
I: And when was that?
B: And that was—the first time was in 1946.
I: Okay and you were about how old then?
B: At that time I was about 18, and I came here to Houston, and I got into the music scene with younger musicians that were my—around my own age and such, and we played—I played clubs like they had here then was Shady’s Playhouse, and later on I was turning professionally, as you might say, when I started playing with Amos Milburn, and that was with a Latin Chicken Shack as they call it.
I: And what genre of music were you playing?
B: I played Rhythm and Blues and Blues.
I: And how do you define the Blues?
B: How do I define the Blues?
I: Yes. (07:29)
B: Well you know there is a—there was a saying that the Blues, I’d say, is a melancholy feeling, and it’s a thing that you get a chance—you speak out for what you don’t have, what you want, what you need, what you lose, and you go through so many different things to get to where you want, where you really want to be, and mostly for your survival, and your personal care, but you don’t always reach that. Something happens and you know you get melancholy. You get real down, and I call that the Blues because it saddens you. It takes your mind off into another direction, and then it seems sometimes that everything you’ve reached out to try to touch to do something good with, something take it away or move it, and it’s a blue and melancholy feeling that we all know. It give you the blues, and that’s what they called the Blues, what I call the Blues. There are so many ways that you can express that. You can voice it. You can feel it, and if you a musician with an instrument, you can apply that to the feeling, the music that you play, and that’s what happened, and I played with—I played different formats of music.
I played with Jazz musicians even then you know even no one would—the Blues was always there. That mode, that mode of the Blues was there even though you would play the rhythm. We played rhythm changes which they call—which is Jazz, “Oh, I got rhythm,” you know that rhythm? And so I connected just—and there were the bolts, and put it together, and it worked. It worked for me because I concentrate on it, and that’s what I want, that’s what I feel, and that’s my style. I always thought, I always—and when I started playing music, if you’re going to play like someone else, you’re not going to get to where you are supposed to be because every time someone say something good about you or say something nice about you playing, they going to say, “Hey that’s good. You sound like...” I never wanted that. I wanted to sound like me. If they’re going to say anything it’s this, “Hey you got a sound that I haven’t heard before.” That’s good. I’d like that. That’s when you really go to work at it. You know because the originality is what really gets you what you want, and I think that was good, and that’s what I concentrated on, and I do that like, “Yes, I want to stay in the bounds of what my format is, and what I became as a legend of Blues,” but I don’t want to be known—I don’t want it to be this, “Hey, I didn’t know enough to go a little bit further,” to do something that was a little bit different. To say that, “Hey, you knew something about what you were doing,” about your expertise. You moved it to another level which I think was good.
I: Do you feel like the move to Houston is part of what’s enabled you to be able to expand in those directions? (11:48)
B: Yes I do. I do, I do indeed because before I came to Houston, I was in Louisiana when I left for—I left home. I left Natchez, Mississippi first. I left—when I left Natchez, I was on my way to Port Arthur, Texas. I was—had in my mind to go to Port Arthur, Texas and join the Merchant Seamen. I was a little young for it, but I wanted to give it a try anyway. So I got to—as far as Alexandria, Louisiana, and that’s where my ticket ended, and then that’s where my money ran out, and so that’s why I was stuck there for awhile, a long time. As a matter of fact, that’s where I met my wife and got married there in Alexandria, and so I had to work, and with the little music that I knew, I worked with a little local band, and he had a—the person that I worked with this band. He had a music store as well, and I worked in his little store, and he taught me how to prepare estimates like putting pads in horns and stuff, things like that. So I worked with that there, with him, and also played in the band, but that wasn’t a living you know? So I just took the advantage of what I learned playing with them, and with him, and I worked different kind of little jobs.
I worked in a chicken place where they kill—you know prepare chicken and all that and everything, and then I worked in a—I worked at pulpwood, if you know about pulpwood, in Louisiana where they go out and cut the wood, you know the pines, and they strip it, load it, haul it, and all that and everything, and that was work. That was more work than I ever thought that I would do really, and it really didn’t pay. There was no advancement working in the woods. Sometimes it was raining, it was muddy and all, and everything. So I decided I said, “Well you know I got to get out of here because this is not going to work, not for me.” And I really started practicing more and more on my instrument, and then I finally worked my way out of there, and I came to Houston. That’s when I came to Houston. So when I got to Houston, I didn’t look for anything else at the present but tried to find music because I thought I was good enough to be able to play with people, and I did. I worked my first job with—I was working at Shady’s Playhouse, and they had young musicians there, and they worked every night in the week. They didn’t pay a heck of a lot, but it was good training, and I learned a lot.
I: And what instrument?
I: Acoustic or electric?
B: No, electric, I had electric guitar. I worked it enough to get enough to get that—from where I was working at that music store, but the person that was there bought a little guitar that I had with a little amplifier, and so that was going to be my thing, and so when I got into Houston, I felt it was up to me—playing with those guys man, and they had a band. They had a band together, and I just started working with them because they didn’t have a guitar. So I fell in with them, and what I knew, and what they knew, and my ability to do a little leading in the guitar, and I didn’t do a lot of vocal. I could sing. I always could sing because I come from a singing family you know? But it was a long, long time before anyone knew that I could sing. There’s another fact. They really didn’t know until I had did my tour out there with professional people. I played with Amos Milburn. I went into the Army. I stayed my hitch in the Army. I came out of the Army, and I went back with Amos Milburn, and we had traveled all through Los Angeles and up in Illinois, and well we did a tour—let’s say we did a tour, okay? And the tour would begin in Los Angeles at the Million Dollar Theater. We played the Million Dollar Theater with Amos. He was very famous then because he had—we were the Latin Chicken Shackers, that was the name of the band, and he had this tune that was out, was “Chicken Shack Boogie,” which was hot on the chart then. Then he had another tune, was “Bewildered,” that was hot on the chart. He had another that was—you probably have heard so many versions of it, “Bad, Bad Whiskey.” What was the other? “One Scotch, One Bourbon, One Beer?” So we had a pretty good tour going from the Million Dollar Theater to the Orpheum Theater that was in Los Angeles.
We worked ourselves across country into Chicago, and I think we worked at a steak theater, and the uptown, and we went into the Apollo Theater, when we did a hitch at the Apollo, and then from that we went to—made a little Southern tour to theaters like clowning around, and that was all good, and so when I finally came back to Houston, after the ending of that—of those tours with Amos, I just quit for awhile. I didn’t quit. I kept—continued to play, but I played with local bands. I played with The Peace and Love Band. I played with Johnny Robison and the Hurricanes, and we was here when it went to the—but with the Hurricanes, we backed up just big time audiences. We even backed Stevie Wonder. We backed up Stevie Wonder, and when we—he came here. I mean we backed up just several artists if they came there. We were the house band. So we was a band that was doing—everybody was reading, except myself, I was ballad, but I was there—but what I did was a part. So then I got around to working with an A&R person that was our Duke and Peacock, which it was Joe Scott, and he was an A&R man there. He was a studio person. So he and I worked together on some things, and so I went on, and joined, and got in with that, and then I started working with Bobby Bland and Junior Parker. They had a review show that was coming out of Duke and Peacock. It was booked at Buffalo Booking Agency which was a part of that studio there.
I: And about what time period was this? (20:19)
B: That was—okay now see the—because—yeah—well just I’m jumping around a little bit because when I was in the—Bland was in New York, I did some recording in New York of my own. I was with Amos’ band then, and that was in 1949, that was. I was on the Atlantic label, and I did a little CD. It wasn’t a CD then because they was doing a big—what they go 78s, and they finally wound up on an album, and I did sell the songs of several things on that, which later Atlantic put it out on Atlantic Guitars on the big wide—and so that went on some. Then when I got back—coming back to Houston, I started working out there, in and out, just whenever they needed a guitar player. They would call me, and I’d go and do a part with certain people—different people on recordings until I finally got hooked up with Amos, no, with Junior Parker and Bobbie Bland. I got hooked up with them that was along in the 50, I think that was along about ’58, and we traveled on that review show they had. At that time it was Bobby Bland, Junior Parker, Johnny Ace, Buddy Ace, and had Miss Lavelle White was in that—on that review show that we traveled what they called the “Chitlin’ Circuit,” down South and all that and everything. We finally started moving with Junior Parker and Bobby together.
They started traveling together, and we did a lot of big shows there in Chicago, New York, and different places, and I stayed with that until I think it was 1963 when I retired, about this time of the year, and we was up in Milwaukee, and it was cold. Believe me it was around 17, really around 17 below up there, and I decided I really wanted to come back to where it was much warmer, and on one night coming out of Milwaukee, we was going our way back to Chicago, and the bus broke down that we were traveling in, and I think I was the last one on the bus. I was left on the bus when it broke down because I was asleep, and everybody got out, and went, and just left me there, and that didn’t sit well at all. So I decided I got enough, and I turned in my reservation for that, for that plane, for traveling. When I got back to Chicago, and then from Chicago into Ohio, we wound up at a place called Gleeson’s in Cleveland, Ohio, and that’s where I turned my notice—I turned my notice in there to the union, and it took me about—I guess I worked after I turned that notice in. I worked for about at least another month for trying to find a replacement, and so when they finally found a replacement and that’s when I came back to Houston. I came back to Houston then in 1963, and I just worked local with local bands for awhile, and I started working on a job which was at Memorial Baptist Hospital was downtown then. They didn’t have the satellites at that time. It was on—I think Memorial Baptist was on—let me see was on Louisiana and Lamar during that time, across from the old library down there, you know the library?
I: Yeah. (25:14)
B: Right across the street from there, and I stayed there—working there for about 5 years, and it was good, and I had bought myself—I had gotten myself a truck, a dump truck, and I started working then for a dumping company, Taylor Brothers, and I worked there for a long time, and that kind of moved me up a little, and then had an accident and didn’t have all the insurances and everything right on that and I lost that. So then I went into another job. I worked for MKI, Mendale Karmen Industries (?), and for corporate, and I stayed there—I stayed there with them 20 years. I stayed there until—what was it? In 1991, I stayed there to 1991, and while I wanted to—I thought I would have went further, but my kids graduated from school. The kids—I had my kids in and out of schools so I had to settle somewhere and get a job, and try to do these things, and that I did. When they finished in their schooling that was good for me, and I said, “Well I want to get back to music,” and I did. I retired from that and got back into music. I had things pretty much synchronized pretty good with my social here and then my age and all and everything. I just kept moving on and going on. So I did, I got back with—I got back out, and I started in ’91, I started playing again, and I got in with different bands that was really popular around the city at that time. It was with Grady Gaines. You ever heard of Grady Gaines Band? I worked with Grady Gaines for awhile. I worked with Joe Hughes for awhile. I worked with Pete Mayes, and the more that I was doing was trying to get myself back in playing condition.
So I made this tour—I made this little trip to Europe. We went to Utrecht in Netherland. In Netherland, we went and played a festival, and I worked that festival, and after coming back from that, I decided I wanted to put my own outfit together and I did. I put my own band together, and worked at it, and worked at it, and then I started writing for myself, and putting music and songs together, and I got with a partner, and, which was turned out to be really was my manager, and you know just we was in partnership, a record label together, on our own label, Choctaw Creek Records, and we produced two CDs on that label, and from that part on I’ve been going on. It’s been going on, and right now I’m working on trying to get a CD out now. I’ve been at it for 2 years, I’ve been trying to get a new CD, but something always step in front of that and get there, but this time, I think before Jim get here, I do plan to have my new CD out, sure do. I would like to do it on my own label. I probably would have trouble trying to get it on another label because they might not want to accept what I’m going to do. I’m going to do Blues. I’m going to do a wide format, but there’s more than one way to doing these things you know? And I want to play music to where it reach out to everyone, not just one set of people, for everybody, to the young, the old, and all, and in between, and you know if you going to do this and try to make a living at it, you have to play the music that’s going to relate to people that’s out there buying it, and seniors are not buying a lot of music nowadays. They can’t afford to buy, you know go out there and buy CDs, and ipods, and all that. You have to really have the music that the people are buying, and music that’s going to buy, and that’s what I want to do, but I want lyrically put it to where the seniors can understand what I’m doing, and everybody can understand what I’m doing. I think I’ll be more—I don’t know that I’ll be more successful doing it on my own or not because there might be someone out there, another label there, that will buy into what I’m doing. I’m going to give a stab. I’m going to try and see, and if I can connect internet with that, that’s what I’ll do.
I: And are these songs that you’ve written yourself? (31:31)
B: Yes, I do all my writing. I do almost all of it, and I’m not a—I can’t score because I can’t do that writing and scoring, and so I have someone to work with me that does that—write it on paper, but for melodics that comes from me. He takes down, write down what I’ve given, and we get good arrangements and pretty good lyrics so far. I wrote a classic that Bobby Bland did, that “Two Steps from the Blues,” that was a classic, and he got his gold record out of that. I put that on also. I did it on one of my CDs as well, on “Nothing But the Truth” CD, and I put it on the—it’s on there.
I: I’m curious as to who or what inspired that song?
B: Yeah, that’s a good question. I was traveling around that time, and before as you know I just—we talked before. I went into the Army, okay? I was in the Army. I came out of the Army, and I came back, and I started playing music, again, and there was a relationship that wasn’t exactly as you want it to be, and I just put the words there to say, and so I had to paint the picture and the story even though it didn’t change a lot. It changed a lot, it did, but from the writing, from the way that began, it came from the same person that I am with now, and a lot of times—I have been asked this time and time again, “How did you stay with a person so long?” I don’t know, well, because we stayed apart so long. We were together. We were married, but we wasn’t together all the time a lot, and yeah. That’s not a tell-all.
I: Okay. (34:24)
B: I don’t believe that.
I: During that time, when you were traveling, you mentioned the Chitlin’ Circuit. Would you care to elaborate a little bit more on some of those experiences?
B: They was some experiences I tell you. You know the Chitlin’ Circuit was mostly down South. Actually you could take part of Texas, you could take Texas and say that’s part of the Chitlin’ Circuit, and during that time it was—it wasn’t mixed, nothing mixed. It was black. It was white. You either played in the black clubs or you played—if you—we got lucky in some events you played the white clubs. It wasn’t a mixed. We played most of the black clubs, one-nighters. Black through Texas, through Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Arkansas, Tennessee, and that was about the extent of it because when you passed—when you get past Tennessee, you go on into—well and some parts of Kentucky, but when you go up into Virginia and all up in there, North Carolina, South Carolina, and there that was under another jurisdiction of another agency, and they would have to come together to be able for us to go into that area. We would play like I said Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, and all down through there, and we had all kind of experiences done through there.
You had to—you had the little hotels where you sleep and you know what lodging or that little small hotel that did a lot of lodging at those things because we traveled so much, and it was just like, “Play here tonight, play there tomorrow,” and we traveled. We did more sleeping in what we traveled in than we did in the hotels. Sometimes we would get—we would run into complications and things with the law and things like that. We got stopped many times up and down the highway with the law because we would all travel together and with so many into one vehicle or two vehicles traveling together, and the law would stop and go through all kind of questioning and things like that. We had been stopped by the law on highways, and they would really make you take your instrument out and play to prove to them that you really was an entertainer. They would do that, and then they would take some time and run you in, and wanted to know where you going, and what you doing. How did you get here? Who you work for? We had all kind of things that happened like that, and we had some silly things that happened. We had some things that now you can look back at them and laugh at some of those things that happened then because it was just plain silliness.
I: Anything in particular that stands out in your mind? (38:03)
B: Yes, we had some—when you have a thing I’d like to talk about some time. We were stopped one time when we was traveling together in Mississippi, and we were about to run out of gas, and then we did run out of gas, and we stopped at this service station there to get some gas. In those times, in those days, you said, “Fill it up,” and in the same breath you would say, “Do you have a restroom?” At this particular time the guy said, “No. We don’t have a colored restroom.” So the driver said, “Oh, okay. Okay that’s all right. Just cut it off, cut the gas off.” He stopped filling. He just I guess—back up and so we all got in. They said, “Oh, man, get in. We go to the next one.” We started out to go to the next station to see if we could get gas and use a restroom, and behold the darn car was out of gas right there, and we couldn’t get started, to get it out, to get to the next one. The guy stood there, and he just looked at us, and he stood there, and he said, “What’s wrong?” We had no gas. He said, “Well you got to get it out of here.” I said, “Well,” and he said, “Go on, get it out. Get it out of here. Just push it on out,” and we did. We had to push it out from there. We had to push it out from that station to get out of there, and in the process of pushing it out, and pushing it, trying to get it to where we could get some gas, this person went and got on the telephone, and called ahead of us to the next station, and told him, “You see that bunch that’s pushing that car, don’t sell them no gas.” We pushed that car. It was a station wagon. We pushed that station wagon for about three or four blocks trying to get some gas. It wasn’t funny then, but it is something that you could laugh about.
Like we had one time, when we stopped at a station, and I don’t want to call names, but the artist that I was working with he drinks water out of the wrong water fountain. They had a black and then you had a white. Well he was drinking water out of the wrong fountain, and they saw that filling up his—and he was in this—we were in this Cadillac. He had had this Cadillac like for about 2 or 3 months, and when they saw that happen, they filled his Cadillac up with diesel fuel. Well he had to have it worked on later, but actually it cleaned—it kind of cleaned out a lot because we kept—we pulled out of there, and we’re going down the highway, and we kept seeing a lot of smoke, and wondered, “Where? What’s going on?” So it looked like—it seemed like something was on fire behind us. It was the Cadillac that was doing all that smoking with that fuel in there. Well it just cleaned the engine out. You know that’s what it did, but that was some of things that happened, and so many more. There’s so many things that happened like you go to the restroom once a night, and then how to get food, and you had to go to the silo. You have to go to the back or you know some things. That was just another experience.
I: Now was that isolated in the South, or did those things occur in the North as well? (42:04)
B: No, no, it was more in the South, but then when you think about it, it was just about the same thing when you crossed the line anyway. You could go in and get food, but you would probably sit there about 30 or 40 minutes before anybody would come to wait on you, and if you voiced your opinions too much you might not get waited on period. It was just about an all around thing. It was one here or just happened there, just in a different phase, in a different manner, but finally it opened up because we are—we stayed there long enough to where—as a matter of fact, we were in Alabama that one time, and we had just—I think it was Bessemer, Alabama, and we had just moved our—I think it was Bessemer where that hotel got blown up. We had moved—we had just checked out of that hotel, and I hadn’t—we probably hadn’t gone 100 miles before we heard about that hotel being bombed, and being blown up, and things like that that was done to Martin Luther King lots a time, and all that, and everything. I think some of that, that too, but we worked our way around through there, and you know they kind of moved their—or booked us around to where we wouldn’t get exactly right off into that. Like in Tennessee we were working before the movement, went to Tennessee, we were there, and then back down to like Montgomery. We worked in Montgomery, Alabama. We worked in Birmingham and Atlanta. We worked Atlanta a lot. We worked in all those places. The only time these things was going on—didn’t have much of an opportunity to participate in it that much because I actually wanted to keep the entertainment away from that because if we got involved in that that would alter the opportunities and the chances to work, you know? So we kind of worked around it, but there during the time.
I: Well as society has changed somewhat, how has the music business changed to reflect that? (44:46)
B: It’s good. It has been well. It’s been good as far as that part is concerned. I don’t have that problem because it’s going through agency. You know like the agency had a lot to do with it. The music had a lot to do with it. The Civil Rights Movement had a heck of a lot to do with it because it put people together, and which would—like it wasn’t deserved, and there was a time that there was white stations and there was black stations as far as the music was concerned. White stations didn’t play the black music. Black music didn’t play white music, the different radio stations. So it finally came together, and it connected, and it put things together to where people was entertaining together, and relaxing, and events, and all. So it came together to where we started working different things so it went through agency. So agency connected to where they said, “Well okay, you want to hire this band? You want to hire these people? They going to be playing, and who are they playing for, and what they’re playing for, and what the events was going to be?” So it kind of put a—put it together like that, and then a lot and some who you missed—you may have missed some of the places, but later on you can pick those up. You pick them up because everybody kind of got together, and came together, and the music just got to where you know there it is.
So with me, actually, I guess a lot of—all I wanted to do was play my music. I just wanted to play my music. I don’t care who it was. It didn’t matter to me. If you going through—if I’m here to entertain you, that’s what I’m there for. I’m only here to entertain you, and hope that you enjoy what I’m doing, and if you have anything else in mind, I don’t want no part of it, and there have been times that we’ve been into places—I’ve been into places to where they kind of lean back away to want to start this conversation, “Listen, I’m here for music. I’m just here to play music, and that’s what I’m doing,” and if it’s anything else that evolves during that time, I don’t want to be a part of it. I don’t have it, and we don’t have that problem. Everything is just pleasant. We work. We work places, and we just don’t have that problem anymore, and I think what happened, it was not so much as the public out there that didn’t want that because they was really hoping for it, and once it opened up you know? Just like it is, I think the whites just wanted to be there as much as the black wanted to be into it, and they mixed together, and come together, and enjoy yourselves because that’s what it is. It’s just an outlet for both and for everybody. I have played now in, I don’t know, six, seven, or eight different countries, and the music speak. Music speak, or when you start playing your music, everybody holds up and come together even if you can’t speak their lingo. They can understand what you’re doing, and they make you understand how they feel about it. It’s not a problem. It’s really not a problem, and I’d like to be reached by everyone, and it’s my plan to do so, always been. I want it to continue to be that way.
I: Thank you so much Mr. Brown for coming and talking with me today. (49:27)
B: I thank you for having me. I thank you for having me.