Wednesday, July 23, 2025

Palomino Club (North Hollywood)

 

Palomino Club (North Hollywood)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Palomino Club was a renowned music venue located in the North Hollywood neighborhood of Los Angeles. Established in 1949, it was the most prominent country music club in the city for decades before its closure in 1995. The Los Angeles Times referred to it as "Country Music's most important West Coast club," and it was honored as the national Club of the Year by Performance magazine. In the late 1980s and 1990s, the Palomino began to feature more rock acts, including many artists associated with SST Records.

History

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1950s and 1960s

[edit]

Originally a "rather tough beer bar,"[1] the Palomino, located at 6907 Lankershim Boulevard, was founded by Western swing bandleader Hank Penny and his business partner Amand Gautier. It had initially been opened around 1949-50 as the Palomino. Penny staged "jazz nights" there where West Coast jazz musicians could come to jam.

It was leased in 1952[1] by the trio of Amos Emery ‘Pat’ Yeigh of Wyoming, who later murdered Darbi Winters,[2] his stepdaughter, and Bill and Tom Thomas of Indiana[3] (who later bought the club).[4] By August 1956, shortly before Pat Yeigh sold his interest,[5] it had become one of the Valley’s largest Western night clubs, with an area of 8,100 feet (2,500 m) with 1,400 square feet (130 m2) of dancing area, featuring top-notch talent that had led to lead billing both on radio and television.[3]

The club received a further boost in 1959 when the major country music showcase Riverside Rancho in the Silver Lake neighborhood shut down, leaving the various performers it had hosted available for the Palomino. In the early 1970s, the club could accommodate up to 400 attendees. [1]

In addition to being the San Fernando Valley's premier nightclub, the Palomino Club was a neighborhood working-class bar, opening at 6 am with a happy hour from 8 am to 10 am. The Palomino Club bar remained open during afternoon sound checks, allowing regular customers and the artists' fans to watch the bands prepare and rehearse for the evening's show for free. Often, the artists showed appreciation for the fans by performing impromptu mini-concerts. The Palomino's dressing rooms and backstage areas were generally open to the public. Fans could ask if the artists were receiving visitors, and most artists welcomed them, gladly signing autographs and so on. During the 1950s and 1960s, almost every notable country and western artist played there; however, in the early 1970s, The Palomino began hosting performances by rock'n' roll artists.

Rock and roll era

[edit]

From the 1970s to the 1990s, The Palomino Club was home to the "Cow Punk" variety of country rock, breaking in acts like Freddie Brown, Rosie Flores, Omar and the Howlers, Lone Justice, Tex & The Horseheads, and The Long Ryders. Many famous artists, such as The Flying Burrito Brothers and Dwight Yoakam, played early dates there as warm-up acts to open for artists like Carla Olson & the Textones. Emmylou Harris and her Hot Band regularly sold out the house. Novel acts, such as Kinky Friedman & the Texas Jewboys, played there. Lyle Lovett was a regular.

Special event concerts featuring artists such as Elvis Costello and Neil Young created sensational disturbances in the neighborhood, with huge crowds outside and resulting media attention.

Unannounced guests routinely joined artists onstage for duets or jam sessions. One night George HarrisonJohn Fogerty and Bob Dylan joined Jesse Ed Davis and Taj Mahal onstage for an improvised mini-set of some of their hits.

Troy Walker, described as "the world’s first and only professional transgender country singer" by the L.A. Weekly [6], was a regular performer at the Palomino every Tuesday night for 17 years.[7]

Other Rock and Roll era alumni include The Everly BrothersPhil SeymourThe PretendersRed Hot Chili PeppersGeorge HarrisonThe PlimsoulsWednesday WeekHalf Way HomeBo DiddleyThe OutlawsThe MotelsThe BlastersThe VenturesAlbert KingNew Riders of the Purple SageQuiet Riot featuring Randy RhoadsCanned Heat, and Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen.

It was between sets at the Palomino that on 5th April 1981, Bob Hite of Canned Heat was handed a vial of heroin by a fan. He snorted it and fell into a coma, after which others unsuccessfully attempted to revive him with a hefty dose of cocaine. A group of roadies put Hite in a van and drove him to bandmate Fito de la Parra's home, where he died.

In the 1970s, Rockabilly artist Jackie Lee Waukeen Cochran, accompanied by Jim King on organ and bass, and Robert Huber on drums and vocals, could be seen once every three months. Also in the early 1970s, the country rock group TEX, featuring Michael Martin Murphy on bass and vocals, Owens Boomer Castleman on lead guitar and vocals, Herb Stiner on steel guitar, and Stoney Stonecipher (J.D. Stone) on drums and vocals, performed until the group split in the late 1970s.

The Palomino featured the "World Famous Palomino Talent Show" once a week, where many up-and-coming acts performed on their way to fame, eventually evolving into a contest. In its final years, the Palomino Talent Show was produced and hosted by Allan Austin (also known as Allan Oolo), who recruited local celebrity judges each week and secured sponsors to provide prizes for the winners. The house band was The Austin Rangers, consisting of Allan Austin, Roger Wynfield, Mark Creamer, Roy Norris, and Dave Olson.

The Palomino hosted various political fundraising events, most notably for California Gov. Jerry Brown's senatorial campaign in 1982.

The club hosted a punk show on December 28, 1992, headlined by Green Day, and featuring Jughead's Revenge, Scared Straight, and Strung Out.

Closure

[edit]

After the death of both Bill and Tom Thomas from congenital heart defects, the club was run by Tom's wife, Sherry, a former waitress at the establishment, under whose leadership the venue struggled to maintain its earlier momentum. The Palomino Club became economically strapped and was no longer able to attract high-caliber acts in such a small venue. On the club's last night in business in 1995, three blues acts from southern California closed the Palomino — Jimmy O, Blue By Nature, and Stevi Lynn & Bordercrossing.[8]

Sign displayed at the Valley Relics Museum

After the closure, The Palomino Club's large exterior neon sign went missing and was thought to have been lost, until the sign resurfaced in a warehouse in Chatsworth in 2014. Scott McNatt, the owner of the sign, realizing the sign's historical significance, contacted historian and preservationist Tommy Gelinas to save and restore the sign. The Palomino's neon has been restored and is currently on display at the Valley Relics Museum in Van Nuys, California[9]

Movie and television appearances

[edit]

The Palomino was a hangout and refuge for struggling actors and stuntmen during their salad days, including Clint Eastwood, a contract bit player at Universal, and stuntman/secondary TV cowboy Hal Needham. Both remembered the club when they gained prominence in the industry as directors and sought it as a location. The club was featured in several movies including: Every Which Way But Loose (1978) and Any Which Way You Can (1980) starring Clint Eastwood, Geoffery Lewis, Sondra Locke and Ruth Gordon; Minnie and Moskowitz (1971), directed by John Cassavetes; The Other Side of the Mountain Part 2 (1978) starring Marilyn Hassett, Timothy Bottoms, Nan Martin, Belinda J. Montgomery; Hooper (1978) starring Burt ReynoldsJan-Michael Vincent and Sally Field; and The Junkman (1982), directed by and starring H.B. Halicki. Television appearances include Adam-12 (1974), CHiPs, and T.J. Hooker ("Finders Keepers" and "Country Action" episodes). It is also mentioned prominently multiple times in the pilot episode of The Fall Guy, starring Lee Majors and guest-starring Lou Rawls. Eastwood also later sat in for a set at the piano.

Monday, July 21, 2025

Who is Donnie Harold Harris?

 

Donnie Harold Harris is a politician from Indiana who has run for public office in the past. Here are some key facts about him ¹ ² ³:
  • Age and Residence: He's 71 years old and lives in Indianapolis, Indiana, specifically at 901 Southview Drive, 46227.
  • Political Career: Donnie Harold Harris was a write-in candidate for Governor of Indiana in 2012, representing the Public Party of Indiana, also known as The Children's Party. His running mate was George Fish.
  • Current Affiliation: He's currently affiliated with the Unity Party of America, serving as their 2024 Vice Presidential nominee alongside Presidential nominee Bill Hammons of Texas.
  • Background: Donnie Harold Harris is a native Hoosier, husband, father, grandfather, and veteran. He worked in the construction industry for over 50 years before retiring in 2020.
  • Philosophy: His political philosophy emphasizes citizen empowerment, fairness, and inherent rights. He believes that "Citizenry is not something bestowed upon at a certain age but comes at first breath".
  • Publications: Donnie Harold Harris also writes a newsletter on Substack, where he shares his thoughts on unity, matter, energy, space, and time.
Overall, Donnie Harold Harris is a dedicated individual who has been actively involved in politics, advocating for the rights and well-being of citizens, particularly children and families.

24 hours- A Prisoner of War 1972

 We were finishing up 1344 hours of Warrior training under the Famed watch of MG Moore—a soldier's soldier- when all Hell broke loose. We had no idea of what was to happen. We were grunts—the lowest of the low, the spear of the javelin. This is my story. Perhaps you can understand why your grandfather failed to share his stories with you. All is true, to the best of my recall. It started like a typical day on the front lines. We were sleep deprived and shaken by a lack of food and a grueling schedule that even a prince would not be able to keep up with. I was being gassed before I could put my mask on properly, despite having received expert training just weeks prior. The shock and awe of War is not to be underestimated. Regardless of why you are there. Even pointing loaded weapons on full auto at college-aged students in the railway yard later, while being attached to the blue helmet squads of the United Nations during a student uprising in Seoul, Korea, could not compare. Then I only had to make one decision. Did I shoot them or did I shoot over their Heads? I realized no one except my sergeant would know for sure if I shot over their heads. So that was my decision. Unlike the student massacre months earlier at Kent State, Ohio. I would shoot over their heads. Just as fast as we were helicoptered there, we flew away. After the smoke and tears cleared away, I was shocked by an automatic weapon going off so close to my right ear. I thought I was being ambushed. I would later discover gunpowder on the side of my head. A fellow soldier, panicking, shot rounds upfield to put down cover fire for himself. I would learn the hard way that in War, it's mostly you against the world. I later learned that this is always true, even outside of war zones. It is just you and everyone else. Then you add a wife and later kids to your pack. Then it is you and them against the world. Always on watch, always ready to put up a fight. After being abused by the other soldiers, I ran for my life. I knew I needed a friend and ran into Reco Hyston, a fellow Hoosier and trainee from my unit. We decided instantly who was to be in charge of our two-person outfit. He then led the way. Later, he would go on to be a recruiter in the all-volunteer U.S. Army. We both graduated from High School in Indy. He is from Ben Davis. I am from Manuel, in Indianapolis. We knew each other and had respect for one another enough to trust our lives with each other. It had suddenly gotten dark. We ran amok and got lost. Then I realized I was alone. I later recalled what had happened in the interim. The veit cong had captured us. We were now prisoners of War. I was reunited with a dozen or so other soldiers. We were soon taken to a POW camp. I was told to hold out my hands, and the soldier dumped a spoonful of rice into my cupped hands. I eat it as commanded. I had not eaten since breakfast. Then we were being moved to a bigger camp, when I escaped and met up with Reco. Somehow, I had gotten myself lost and ran into him. I was a barrel up ahead and wondered if this was a sign. It was cold. I looked at the night sky. I was a Universe full of Ca. Stars. I realized someone was behind me. I was terrified. Would it be hand-to-hand combat or a shot? I shot one of at someone else's son or their sons or their brother right there. It was too much, too fast for me to think through. I ran as fast as I could, even with a backpack weighing over 80 pounds. I saw a small bush and slid under it. I hide like a terrified little child. Would I die? Would I know if I died? Was I already dead? Someone was chasing me. I could hear them. Nothing seemed to make sense. Where Was Reco? The person chasing me stopped, and I could feel his combat boots touching, not pushing my right shoulder. He was right over me. I expected a bayaneet coming my way. He was too close for me to shoot, I had decided. Hand-to-hand action? I recalled a fight as a young boy in which an older teenage cousin saved me. As I lay in wait for what seemed like hours, a Rat climbed across and up my left leg. I was not afraid of the Rat, but I was fearful of what might be tracking it. I instantly recalled a Rat incident with my dad's mom in her two-room shack where I woke up in the middle of the night with her over top of me with a broom. She instructed me to go back to sleep, saying it was only a rat in my pallet on the floor. She was a poor, sad woman. Living in a shack with my cousin and her two children was my daughter. She was checking for a snake.So after it jumped off my leg, I moved—the thought of a Ca. Rattlesnake biting me was unacceptable, even with the idea of a bayonet to the belly. I looked around to see what I had to fight, and there I was, stars and all alone. Later in Korea, I would do an eye dance with a poisonous mamosi snake that was crawling over my radio as I leaned back on my pack, waiting for my company. I was the radio operator for whom. I got fired by the battalion commander himself, a light colonel. Later, that mission was to disrupt the message. I feel right and foolish at the same time. I looked and realized I was under a bush at the edge of a cliff. If I had moved forward one more step, I would have been killed. But that was only info now. I ran back the way I had just come from. I went to the Barrel again and double-checked to be sure it did not have a fire in it. It was still cold. I began to panic. The Barrel was our outer limit line. The cliff was a no-no.I ran like an Indian. I may have even flown down a Road to Nowhere. Then I hear the most incredible sound I have ever heard in my entire life. It was my Black Platoon Sergeant yelling, 'Is that you, Harris?' I was so overjoyed I began to cry. He said he had been looking for me the whole night. He told the entire squad that they had spent hours looking for me. I jumped into the back of a truck and drove back to the lights of the base. He said I was the last soldier from the entire brigade to come in. He had stayed until all his men were accounted for. It was starting to get daylight. I stood in that truck in the cold and froze almost to death on the drive back to base.I was safe. My chest was solid and hard to breathe. I was home. I was soon in my bed. I had been to Disneyland and back. Being a fully trained Infantryman was not for the weak-minded. It changed who I had been. Years later, I would be labeled Severe PTSD. I had never left the safety of Fort Ord, CA. Yet in my mind, I fought a whole War. Donnie Harold HarrisWhat is he saying?

In the piece titled "24 hours- A Prisoner of War 1972," Donnie Harold Harris shares his intense and personal account of a military training exercise that escalated into chaos. He describes the physical and psychological challenges faced during training, including feelings of fear, confusion, and the urge to survive. Harris recounts specific moments, such as being gassed and experiencing panic, as well as the camaraderie with fellow soldiers. Ultimately, he reflects on the lasting impact of these experiences, including the development of PTSD and the realization that the struggles of War extend beyond the battlefield.

24 hours- A Prisoner of War 1972

 We were finishing up 1344 hours of Warrior training under the Famed watch of MG Moore—a soldier's soldier- when all Hell broke loose. We had no idea of what was to happen. We were grunts—the lowest of the low, the spear of the javelin. This is my story. Perhaps you can understand why your grandfather failed to share his stories with you. All is true, to the best of my recall. It started like a typical day on the front lines. We were sleep deprived and shaken by a lack of food and a grueling schedule that even a prince would not be able to keep up with. I was being gassed before I could put my mask on properly, despite having received expert training just weeks prior. The shock and awe of War is not to be underestimated, regardless of why you are there. Even pointing loaded weapons on full auto at college-aged students in the railway yard later could not compare. After the snott and teras cleared away, I was shocked by an automatic weapon going off so close to my right ear. I would later discover gunpowder on the side of my head. A fellow soldier, panicking, shot rounds upfield to put down cover fire for himself. I would learn the hard way that in War, it's mostly you against the world. I later learned that this is always true, even outside of war zones. It is just you and everyone else. Then you add a wife and later kids to your pack. Then it is you and them against the world. Always on watch, always ready to put up a fight. After being abused by the other soldiers, I ran for my life. I knew I needed a friend and ran into Reco Hystin, a fellow Hoosier and trainee from my unit. We decided instantly who was to be in charge of our two-person outfit. He then led the way. Later, he would go on to be a recruiter in the all-volunteer U.S. Army. We both graduated from High School. He is from Ben Davis. I am from Manuel, in Indianapolis. We knew each other and had respect for one another enough to trust our lives with each other. It had suddenly gotten dark. We ran amok and got lost. Then I realized I was alone. I later recalled what had happened in the interim. The veit cong had captured us. They were now prisoners of War. I was unnighted with a dozen or so other soldiers. We were soon taken to a POW camp. I was told to hold out my hands, and the soldier dumped a spoonful of rice into my cupped hands. I eat it as commanded. Then we were being moved to a bigger camp when I escaped and met up with Reco. Somehow, I had gotten myself lost. I was a barrel up ahead and wondered if this was a sign. It was cold. I looked at the night sky. I was a Universe full of Ca. Stars. I realized someone was behind me. I was terrified. Would it be hand to hand combat or shot I shot one ones son or there brother right there. I ran as fast as


I could, even with a backpack weighing over 80 pounds. I saw a small bush and slid under it. I hide like a terrified little child. Would I die? Would I know if I died? Was I already dead? Nothing seemed to make sense. Where Was Reco? The person chasing me stopped, and I could feel his combat boots touching, not pushing my right shoulder. He was right over me. I expected a bayaneet coming my way. It was too close to shoot that I had decided. As I lay in wait for what seemed like hours, a Rat climbed across and up my left leg. I was not afraid of the Rat, but I was fearful of what might be tracking it. So after it jumped off my leg, I moved—the thought of a Ca. Rattlesnake biting me was unacceptable, even with the idea of a bayonet to the belly. I looked around to see what I had to fight, and there I was, stars and all alone. I feel right and foolish at the same time. I looked and realized I was under a bush at the edge of a cliff. If I had moved forward one more step, I would have been killed. But that was only info now. I ran back the way I had just come from. I went to the Barrel and double-checked to be sure it did not have a fire in it. It was still cold.
I began to panic. I ran like an Indian. I may have even flown down a Road to Nowhere. Then I hear the most incredible sound I have ever heard in my entire life. It was my Black Platoon Sergeant yelling, 'Is that you, Harris?' I was so overjoyed I began to cry. He said he had been looking for me the whole night. He told the entire squad that they had spent hours looking for me. I jumped into the back of a truck and drove back to the lights of the base. I was safe. I was home. I was soon in my bed. I had been to Disneyland and back. Being a fully trained Infantryman was not for the weak-minded. It changed who I had been. Years later, I would be labeled Severe PTSD. I had never left the safety of Fort Ord, CA. Yet in my mind, I fought a whole War. Donni Harold Haris

24 hours- A Prisoner of War 1972

 

24 hours- A Prisoner of War 1972

We were finishing up 1344 hours of Warrior training under the Famed watch of MG Moore—a soldier's soldier- when all Hell broke loose. We had no idea of what was to happen. We were grunts—the lowest of the low, the spear of the javelin. This is my story. Perhaps you can understand why your grandfather failed to share his stories with you. All is true, to the best of my recall. It started like a typical day on the front lines. We were sleep deprived and shaken by a lack of food and a grueling schedule that even a prince would not be able to keep up with. I was being gassed before I could adequately put on my mask, despite having received expert training just weeks prior. The shock and awe of War is not to be underestimated, regardless of why you are there. Even pointing loaded weapons on full auto at college-aged students in the railway yard later could not compare. After the snott and teras cleared away, I was shocked by an automatic weapon going off so close to my right ear. I would later discover gunpowder on the side of my head. A fellow soldier, panicking, shot rounds upfield to put down cover fire for himself. I would learn the hard way that in War, it's mostly you against the world. I later learned that this is always true, even outside of war zones. It is just you and everyone else. Then you add a wife and later kids to your pack. Then it is you and them against the world. Always on watch, always ready to put up a fight. After being abused by the other soldiers, I ran for my life. I knew I needed a friend and ran into Reco Hystin, a fellow Hoosier and trainee from my unit. We decided instantly who was to be in charge of our two-person outfit. He then led the way. Later, he would go on to be a recruiter in the all-volunteer U.S. Army. We both graduated from High School. He is from Ben Davis. I am from Manuel, in Indianapolis. We knew each other and had respect for one another enough to trust our lives with each other. It had suddenly gotten dark. We ran amok and got lost. Then I realized I was alone. I later recalled what had happened in the interim. The veit cong had captured us. They were now prisoners of War. I was unnighted with a dozen or so other soldiers. We were soon taken to a POW camp. I was told to hold out my hands, and the soldier dumped a spoonful of rice into my cupped hands. I eat it as commanded. Then we were being moved to a bigger camp when I escaped and met up with Reco. Somehow, I had gotten myself lost. I was a barrel up ahead and wondered if this was a sign. It was cold. I looked at the night sky. I was a Universe full of Ca. Stars. I realized someone was behind me. I was terrified. Would it be hand to hand combat or shot I shot one ones son or there brother right there. I ran as fast as


I could, even with a backpack weighing over 80 pounds. I saw a small bush and slid under it. I hide like a terrified little child. Would I die? Would I know if I died? Was I already dead? Nothing seemed to make sense. Where Was Reco? The person chasing me stopped, and I could feel his combat boots touching, not pushing my right shoulder. He was right over me. I expected a bayaneet coming my way. It was too close to shoot that I had decided. As I lay in wait for what seemed like hours, a Rat climbed across and up my left leg. I was not afraid of the Rat, but I was fearful of what might be tracking it. So after it jumped off my leg, I moved—the thought of a Ca. Rattlesnake biting me was unacceptable, even with the idea of a bayonet to the belly. I looked around to see what I had to fight, and there I was, stars and all alone. I feel right and foolish at the same time. I looked and realized I was under a bush at the edge of a cliff. If I had moved forward one more step, I would have been killed. But that was only info now. I ran back the way I had just come from. I went to the Barrel and double-checked to be sure it did not have a fire in it. It was still cold.




I began to panic. I ran like an Indian. I may have even flown down a Road to Nowhere. Then I hear the most incredible sound I have ever heard in my entire life. It was my Black Platoon Sergeant yelling, 'Is that you, Harris?' I was so overjoyed I began to cry. He said he had been looking for me the whole night. He told the entire squad that they had spent hours looking for me. I jumped into the back of a truck and drove back to the lights of the base. I was safe. I was home. I was soon in my bed. I had been to Disneyland and back. Being a fully trained Infantryman was not for the weak-minded. It changed who I had been. Years later, I would be labeled Severe PTSD. I had never left the safety of Fort Ord, CA. Yet in my mind, I fought a whole War. Donni Harold Haris

Friday, July 18, 2025

From nothing to something. Is the way of life.

 Nothing stays stagnant. Everything moves. The expansion of humanity reveals signs of manipulation and control by external forces. Not God, misnamed as a devil but dubbed the devil, is a bait and switch. The devil is the twin of Jesus, or at least his brother in other lives. 

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Edward Bernays and Group Psychology: Manipulating the Masses