THE DRIFTER BOYS, H.M. SLAGLE, & THE GOLDEN CORDS OF HIS LOVE H.M. Slagle doesn’t have an online presence. Passed in 1986, he doesn’t really have a much of a presence at all, but to the Drifters, he was the voice of an angel and a friend. We had lots of down time on tour, especially when it came to playing in Johnson City at Tank’s place, The Down Home. It was a concert venue, so the shows at night were relatively easy to play. Afterward we had lots of sleepy, summery East Tennessee days to contend with. On some days that meant woodshedding or a California vs. Tennessee baseball game; other days it meant cruising out in the country, enjoying the scenery, and trying out the local weed. On a fine summer morning our good friend, Ed Snodderly, himself a dapper dresser and keen eye, told us of an old store......he didn’t have much to say other than it was a good spot to find cool vintage duds. The name of the shop was H.M. Slagle and Sons and it was just a country ramble away in the little town of Elizabethton, Tennessee. That beautiful Tennessee day was bright and psychedelic...super green with cricket sounds in the blue skies. We drove out of that natural wonderland right into a little mill town with one main street. It was a place with beautiful, older buildings, but during the re-do in the sixties all the pre-war fronts had been covered with now outdated, faded aluminum signage. We cruised main street, looking for a little shop of some kind, but H.M. Slagle and Sons was one of the largest storefronts on the street. As big as it was, half of it was closed down and the other side looked pretty dingy. Undaunted, we stepped through the doorway to be met and greeted by H.M. Slagle, Jr. and his son, Buddy. The shop looked pretty funky; it was something you couldn’t help but notice. We also noticed it was bereft of clientele and there wasn’t anybody coming in.....and we were surrounded by junk. But, Mr. Slagle, he of the beautiful spirit, was effusive and glowing and, as things go, one thing led to another and we found ourselves in a small circle listening to stories of life in a small Tennessee town before the war. As we chatted with these two, one of us broke H.M.s spell to ask about the vintage apparel. Oh, it became hushed and quiet after that. We were standing in a junk store. But it had once been a very fashionable men’s shop and H.M. told us, at one time, especially during the forties and fifties, he and his dad figured they had to fill the entire store with things...and they did. It was a glorious tale played beautifully by Mr. Slagle’s soft southern voice; full of generations of families and prosperity and war and uniforms and style and hats and suits and shirts and vests and tailoring and banners and. It was a tale of the singular mission the Slagle family had, in its own gentle, humble, charitable way, to raise their community up. They did it for six decades by offering the latest in seasonal men’s fashion, by carrying the military uniform accesories the boys in town would wear through three wars. They sold the suits worn at their weddings and funerals, the new coats the kids would wear at school and in the snow. This wondrous family never once forgot how important each and every human being is and acted accordingly. Through the years and wars, there were many items that had never sold; suits, jackets, belts, ties, shirts, shoes, hats, cufflinks, vests....inventory stored way back in the way back of the attics and backrooms....lots of inventory....from different eras, the twenties, thirties, forties.... For us, it started with the hats...Dobbs Fifth Avenue hats, still in the original boxes from the thirties and forties. Then shirts.....beautifully made and tailored shirts of fine cotton from another era and world; then suits....and vests, leftovers from suits, but brand spanking new, made of fine wool, with beautiful dark, rich colors....as perfect as the day they arrived in the store, forty years earlier; belts, wallets, accesories.....we had just walked into a sartorial mine, rich with treasure. Whenever traveling to east Tennessee, we’d head over to Elizabethton and spend hours and hours in that shop, checking out the merchandise, hanging out with H.M. and Buddy, talking story and enjoying the days with these two fine gents from Tennessee. Bill bought, among other things, a blue suit and Cy scored his prized blue Borsalino.....and there were many Stetsons..... It was our little secret. But over the next several years, the word got out. A few years later, we came in to see H.M. and he told us “a fella from New York City came down and bought it all”..... The beautiful thing about this story is that H.M. and his dad had been robbed some time back. Underinsured, they lost it all. They were able to keep the building, but couldn’t put together the capital to make H.M. Slagle and Sons the store it once was......hence the junk. But little did H.M. know that new success lay around the corner in the vintage clothes business. Little did we know what fine human beings and friends we had found in H.M. Slagle and his son, Buddy. Whenever we left the shop, H.M. would gather us together in a circle, hold our hands and bless us. The phrase he used was that he wished we could be “wrapped in the golden cords of His eternal Love.” These are words of love and friendship that bind us together and form a remembrance of a fine human being and friend. Please like or share facebook/cachevalleydrifters
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 19:48:22 +0000
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