I've been to Dumas a grand total of once, but it seemed like a nice town. Like just about any
small town in the
Texas Panhandle, it didn't look like there was a lot to do there. (For you city mice, that means there's no
mall and no
dance clubs. But you just stay in your giant city where can't smell
clean air or meet your
neighbors or avoid
traffic jams, okay?) But the most interesting piece of
trivia about the town (aside from the way the
city limit signs around town tend to acquire an extra "S" painted at the end of the name) is about Dumas' song...
Way back in the
1930s, a
songwriter named
Phil Baxter was traveling from
Navarro County to
Denver when he had to stop and spend the night in Dumas. Whether it was because he liked the
town or the
people or because he ended up getting
laid or whatever, Baxter wrote a
song called "
I'm a Ding Dong Daddy from Dumas." It was recorded by
Phil Harris,
Bob Wills, and quite a few other
musicians.
I've heard the song once or twice -- not enough to remember any
lyrics beyond "I'm a Ding Dong Daddy from Dumas / You ought to see me do my stuff" -- but I never thought it was a particularly great piece of
music. My grandmother assures me that it used to be quite a
popular little
tune. However, Dumas, Texas just loved that song. Loved it to death, loved it to pieces. Put it on their
tourism billboards, played it on their
radio stations, acted like it was the only reason Dumas existed at all, even into the 1990s.
A few years back, when I was working at a particularly
noxious little radio station in
Central Texas, I got a call from KDDD in Dumas. Their
station manager thought he had a
job for me, which he proceeded to pitch to me. But this is how I remember his
spiel running:
"Hellooo, Mr. Jet-Poop, this is Johnnn Smith, the generalll manager from KDDD Radio in Duuuumas, Texas. You may have hearrrd of Duuuumas, Texas -- there was an old soooong written about us in the 1930's. It was quite a POPular soooong, you may have heard of it, Dinnnng Dong Daddy from Duuuumas, we play it EVery mornnning..." And that was all before I had a chance to say a word.
While he gave me the rest of his
pitch, I pondered what kind of
community leader (radio station
owners are always community leaders -- it gets them free
dinner at the
Kiwanis meetings) would
promote his
hometown that way -- with a 60-year-old song that no one listened to anymore. Then I started pondering what kind of
hell it would be to work at a radio station where the owner had that sort of
obsession with an old piece of music. My current job sucked, but it didn't suck
that hard.
Since then, the radio station has sold to more
sensible people, and the city has gotten rid of those
tacky tourism billboards. They now emphasize their
economy, the
scenery, their
events, the
climate, and their
people as a way to promote their town. Thank god for
progress.