Well, we've had a couple of experiences in the movie- making buziness.  The first one was with my old compadre, Tobe Hooper.  I can't remember when i first started hanging out with Tobe at his office where he did editing at the corner of 8th and Nueces, I think.  He mostly did movie short films in those days, but had plans for feature length films, too.  When he finally was ready to make "Eggshells" he gave me the opportunity to do music for it.  I wound up doing about half the soundtrack, some on sitar with Jim Franklin tapping tablas, some with Shawn; the other half was done by Jim Shulman and Timberline Rose.  We appear in the movie as Shiva's, playing for a wedding which is actually taking place there at the gazebo in Wooldrige Park by the courthouse.  However, you don't hear the band in that scene.  We went up to Robinhood Brian's studio in Tyler to do the music.  Tobe told me we were doing sitar so I brought Jim with me because he had some tablas and could play a little.  We did some sitar stuff, and I think some other solo stuff; then, all of a sudden, Tobe says, "where's the band?" and I say you never said bring the band.  But Tobe wanted some rock'n'roll so I called Shawn in Austin and said how soon can you come and he said pretty quick because Tobe had dough.  We had to wait for some hours for Shawn but we had a per diem account so went for a meal.  Well, we are at this flying saucer looking joint in Tyler, Texas, having our stuff.  Jim is freaking because we have an eight dollar per diem but he can't get cash instead for what he didn't spend ($8 was a whole lot to spend for a meal in '69).  So Jim decided to go ahead and spend all the per diem money on french fries.   

He had about a dozen orders of fries which he proceeded to build into a replica of the Eiffel 
Tower on his table; then he poured several bottles of ketchup over the whole affair.  
Fortunately, the place was pretty empty of customers; the downside being that we couldn't 
immediately dissassociate ourselves with Jim's warholian guerilla art statement.  So we took off soon as possible.  So when Shawn showed up, it being a good six hour drive to Tyler from Austin, we did our usual pre-game warm-up and then went right to work.  Tobe needed some rough raucous rock and we just had the two of us, so Shawn did piano and organ and I threw on drums, bass, guitars, and, if I remember correctly, some fiddle.  We did my instrumental piece, thing in d, to which a Volkswagan is blown up in the movie, too cool.  I saw a movie poster for Eggshells at the last Austin Record Show; it was going for only $200, what a deal! 

The movie won an editing award at the Atlanta Film Festival, but never became a 
commercial success; although, to our great surprise, it was aired on Atlanta tv.  It contained a graphic sex scene, but through privacy glass.  Tobe had told me that if this nice, peaceful, 
hippyish movie didn't work, he was going to make horrific horror films. So his next release 
was Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  He went on to become the director of Poultergiest, but then had his famous fallout with Spielberg.

In 72 or 3 we got a spot in a Warner Bros. movie called The Thief That Came to Dinner.  
The big stars in it were Ryan O'neal and Jaquiline Bissett, and we did our part with them. 
Only after I saw the movie did I realize that Warren Oates and Ned Beatty were also in it; 
some of my favorite actors.  Gary Chasson, who had organized early 60's independent 
drama groups in Austin, was working for Bud Yorkin on the movie and hired us for the 
spot.  The show was shot in Houston, and our part was to play live in it in a party scene at 
the Marriot Hotel.  I called the wardrobe lady to ask what we should wear, since we never 
had been in a major movie.  She said just come like you do when you play a concert.  Well, 
in those days we usually wore t- shirts and cut-offs.  The psychedelic lightshows don't work 
as well if you wear colors; that's why the Dead wore gray t- shirts.  Anyway, here we came 
into the Marriot to do our thing when the wardrobe lady came running out into the hall 
screaming, "Oh, my, God, you're not hippies; you're just a bunch of heads!!"  So she decided, since our scene was a NASA party with a replica Saturn rocket and astronaut water toys on stage, that we would be dressed in what were the costumes for the original Startrek tv show.

Gary had to put together a scene with a lot of glitz; the studio was ready for him to spend 
a bundle on exrtas, costumes, and jewelry rentals, but he had a better idea.  He offered a 
$500 prize for the best costume, and he invited a bunch of Houston socialites to be in the 
movie; some of their homes were also used in the film (since the story is about a NASA  
computer whiz who is also a cat burglar of up-scale Houston homes).  The response was 
incredible; some folks spent thousands trying to get the $500, more of an honor than a 
prize for a rich  guy.  The dude who won had a golf-cart made into a rocket!  It was a real 
education to see it all work.  It was mostly older guys working sound and lights.  I was 
amazed to see ancient laydown, leather-covered Phillips real-to-real recorders still being 
used for sound; they had 6 or 7 stratigically placed around the hall.  And of course the 
food was pretty good.  But when we tried to escape to smoke a j after lunch they ferretted 
us out with cries of time is money and put us back to work.  Those costumes together 
with the lights made us have to pee a few times, maybe those folks don't pee, I don't 
know, maybe the extra bile becomes part of their personalities. Miss Bissett sat apart in 
the middle of the hall eating her lunch when Kenny, our bass player, who doesn't see all 
that well went over to sit near her.  In fact, he practically sat on her dress and proceeded 
to stare at her like she was tv.  Later he said, you know, she's a pretty girl.   Then we had 
to have a scene in which we would play a hoedown and a real squaredance caller was 
brought in.  Well, Miss Bissett didn't know diddly about squaredancing and she couldn't 
get the steps right and also remember the lines.  After a few attempts, She broke down 
sobbing and ran from the hall crying,"I can't do it, I can't do it", but with a British accent.  
Yorkin did the take five everybody thing while the starlett got her shit together; we all 
applauded her upon her return.  They simplified the steps so they could just move around 
a bit and get the lines said and somehow got through it.  I have to admit, it's one of the 
most terrible movies you'll ever see.  Before we would play I insisted on some kind of 
contract; so they quickly wrote one up that said I would get paid one dollar for movie 
rights to my music.  I already understood that this movie was being made with tv plays 
in mind, and this contract didn't mention tv or any other devices of delivery, so i signed 
it.  This contract promised that the song title and writer and band would be in the credits, 
but that didn't happen.  There was no mention of me or the song or the band; all music 
was credited to Henry Mancini.  However, I have been paid royalties for tv and foreign 
plays of the movie since it's release on tv in 74. Maybe a Warner Bros. exec will read this 
and send me my mill.  I can't really complain though since that 28 or so seconds of 
Country Boy in that movie has earned a gross of $30,000 more or less over the years.

So when you see this flick on late-night tv or on a cheap airflight, and you see that we 
were actually young once, and how really beautiful the bride of my youth was, and how 
lucky we were to be a part of American music, please forget what a loser this movie was, 
because you can't do anything about it now, so you may as well lie back and enjoy it!