The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 98: Send Me The Bill

Episode Date: April 17, 2018

Wee Johnny wanted a mighty check - so he sent out some mighty big bills.

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Terms apply. See site for details. This is the way I heard it. In 2012, three bronze statues were erected at the Red Cliff Speedway, just outside of Brisbane. The statues look nothing like the famous men they're meant to honor, but they do bear an uncanny resemblance to the boys who walked into Bill Good's office back in 1959, looking for a favor. Excuse me, said Wee, Johnny. My brothers and I were wondering if we could sing a few songs at the coin drop. Bill Good glanced up from the pile of paperwork in front of him.

Depends. Do you stink? The last group that sang here stunk so bad the people threw beer instead of change. No, said Wee, Johnny. We don't stink. In fact, I think we're pretty good. Bill Good considered the lads in front of him. Skinny, eager, cheap clothes, no experience, a beat-up guitar over the leader's shoulder. How old are you, son? I'm 12, said Wee, Johnny. My brother's at What do you call yourselves? We, Johnny, and the blue cats. Bill Good grimaced. Is your name really Johnny? No, sir. Then what's the point, said Bill Good. You're not we, you're not Johnny, and your brothers aren't blue, or cats. It's what we called ourselves back in England, he said. Down here, you can call us whatever you want.

Bill Good sighed. He had no time for auditions. The race was about to start. And truth was, he hadn't lined up anyone's perform at the interval. If the boys could coax some loose change from a few hundred drunken race car fans, well, God bless him. Wait in the infield, said Bill Good. You'll have time for one song, maybe two, assuming you don't stink. When the interval came, a few hours later Bill Good was in the pits, listening to a driver complained about the condition of his track when the Everly brothers exploded over the loud speakers. The song was Wake Up Little Susie, except it wasn't the Everly Brothers. It was three boys, not yet teenagers,

filling the grandstands with a sound so clean and pure it was simply impossible to ignore. Soon, the sound of coins, bouncing off the track, confirmed the crowd's appreciation. We Johnny followed up with a Frankie Valley number, then something from the letterman, then something by Johnny Mathis, pausing in between songs to let the blue cats

scoop up the change and wave to the crowd. Bill Good was not a talent agent, but he knew talent when he heard it. So Bill Good called a local DJ named Bill Gates, and the next morning, the two bills drove down to Brisbane to see the boys at home. They were rehearsing on the back porch when they arrived, and their close harmonies drifted around the corner and down the street. The men followed the sound, and this time Bill Good was gobsmacked, not only by what he had heard, but by what he saw.

We, Johnny, had a tea chest with a piece of wood attached and some fishing line, which he used as a bass fiddle. One of his brothers had a wooden fruit case built the same way. The other was drumming on an upside-down plastic pail. They were singing an Elvis tune, and the sound was amazingly good. Good Lord, said Bill Gates. Imagine if these kids had actual instruments. Never mind that, said Bill.

good. Imagine if they wrote their own songs. We Johnny looked up from his makeshift fiddle and smiled at the Bills. I write lots of original songs, he said. Want to hear a few? Sure, said Bill Gates. How many do you have? Counting the one I wrote this morning? 180. Two hours later, the Bills were still listening. Mouths agape. It was astonishing. Song after song, each one better than the last. Voices blending like only the voices of brothers can, filling the air with overtones that cover the men with goosebumps. All of which begs the question,

did either Bill imagine that 20 years later, these same kids would go on to have six songs in Billboard's top ten, all at the same time? Did either Bill imagine for one second that they'd go on to sell 200 million albums around? the world. Probably not. But these bills, they knew talents when they saw it. That's why, on that fateful day in 1959, Bill Good offered to manage the young band, and Bill Gates offered to get them on to the radio as soon as possible, on one condition. What condition might that be,

said we, Johnny? Your name, said Bill Good. It really does stink. He's right, said Bill Gates. Nobody wants a wee Johnny. The boys quickly agreed on a new name, a name that would change the sound of popular music, and usher in a new era of fashion, a name that most people assume was inspired by the initials of Wee Johnny's real name. But that's not the way I heard it. According to the Australian press, the oldest brother returned to the Red Cliff Speedway in 2012 to witness the unveiling of three statues. There, in the same place they'd sung for spare change

54 years earlier, the only surviving member of a legendary trio looked upon the boyhood version of himself and his beloved twins wiped away a tear and reflected upon the many benefits of staying alive. Then he thanked the good people of Red Cliff for immortalizing his family in bronze and reminded all those present that the name of his band was not, in fact, an homage to his own name,

but rather a tribute to the men who discovered them. According to the artist formerly known as Wee Johnny, it was Bill Good and Bill Gates who made those statues possible, a racetrack manager and a DJ who knew talent when they heard it and gave a 12-year-old kid named Barry Gibb, the chance he needed. That's why their initials are likewise immortalized, not in bronze, but in the name of a little band called the Bee Gees. Anyway, that's the way I heard it. If you're a maintenance supervisor at a manufacturing facility

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