Charlie’s Nightlife
I can honestly say Charlie’s Nightlife was a one-of-a-kind bar. A redneck, honky-tonk bar in Murrells Inlet, South Carolina just south of Myrtle Beach. The bar was owned by a singer/songwriter named Charlie Floyd. The best way I can describe it was every bit of the bar from the movie Road House without the chicken wire.
When I met Charlie he was at the height of his career. He had a record deal with Liberty Records in Nashville and he just had his first album released. His music was being produced by two of the biggest producers in Nashville, Jim Cotton and James Stroud. He was beginning to get airplay on the radio and things were going well. He was a mentor to me and I learned a lot from Charlie, some good and some bad. Charlie was a partier. He had a hot band, a rowdy popular bar and there were always guys, girls and temptations around. I saw a lot of it.
Although his career was doing fine, Charlie was dealing with a nasty blow he had recently taken in his career. While recording his latest album he had run across the song called Achy Breaky Heart. He wanted to record the song on his CD and considered changing it to Achin’ Breakin’ Heart because it sounded better. Upon a visit to Charlie’s Nightlife, his producers saw him play the song live and told him he should cut it. When they returned to Nashville they also gave the song to Billy Ray Cyrus and as history speaks for itself after that, the song was huge. It was almost Charlie and not Billy. I am sure that weighed heavy on his mind as I saw him delve into the devil’s ways more and more.
After about a year of bartending, Charlie used to call me on the stage to play a few songs alone while the band took a break. I played my songs until the band came back and then went back to tending bar. I was the Singing Bartender. This pattern went on for a few more months until I no longer tended bar. I played with the band and sang when Charlie took a break or just didn’t show up for the show that night.
I have so many stories about that bar and there is no way I can remember them all. Some because I was too drunk to remember and some because it’s been so long. Here are a few I do recall vividly.
First of all, I don’t like reptiles. I think they are gross. Every night before we opened or after we closed I found myself alone in the bar. There was a pond outside off the deck on the front. We had an alligator that lived in that pond and drunk patrons used to throw beer bottles at it for fun. We never had any trouble with the gator but the pond was full of beer bottles and frogs. Somehow or other? The frogs always seemed to get into the bar. Many times I would be working alone and hear something moving, it would catch my attention and most of the time it was a frog. However, this sight always scared the shit out of me. Not because I was afraid of the frog itself, but what it might do. Every time I saw a frog then and now, I am afraid the frog will turn to me and pull out a little top hat and cane and start dancing singing hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal just like Michigan J. Frog on the Bugs Bunny cartoon. No one would be around to see it but me. I know it sounds strange, but it still crosses my mind every time I see a frog. I am glad to say it never happened, because I remember how the guy in the cartoon went insane because of that stupid little frog.
In my first few weeks of working at his bar, I discovered Charlie’s relationship of having a very large family in a small town. It seemed like EVERYONE who came in was Charlie’s cousin and wanted a drink for free. Charlie lived in the Myrtle Beach area his whole life and it was hard to tell who was and who wasn’t a cousin, niece, nephew, aunt or uncle. It never ended. One night during my first week bartending, I noticed a little old man walk through the back door and go behind the bar. He looked like an old Confederate soldier from a cartoon, small, gray haired, wrinkled and a little feeble but feisty. He poured himself a drink and I approached him. I politely said, Who the fuck are you? You can’t be back here and can’t do that. He brushed me off like he owned the place. I grabbed him by the belt and back of his shirt marching him towards the back door. Charlie approached me and said, “What are you doing?” I replied, I just found this guy behind the bar stealing drinks and I’m about to throw his ass out of here. Charlie looked at me and said, “That’s my father-in-law.” That night I met Charlie Patrick. He turned out to be a good man over the time I got to know him, just a feisty old bugger. I realized Charlie’s family was everywhere and they just made themselves at home.
Another time, I busted one of Charlie’s cousins shoving mini bottles of booze in the waistband of her stretch pants. She was a large woman and was already drunk. She put up a pretty good fight and cussed me out before we got the booze back and I threw her out. She was banned from the bar for a few weeks after that. She had half a dozen mini bottles stuffed in her pants.
Charlie had another cousin named Tommy. I don’t know what was wrong with him. But he just wasn’t right. Tommy did not have a license to drive a car, so he would ride to the bar on a big farm tractor with a bush-hog on the back. I would see him driving down the highway on that thing with the big orange triangle on the back and the cops couldn’t do a thing to him. He liked to tie up traffic with it. Another one of his favorite things to do was get drunk, fire up the tractor and drop the bush hog on a beer can on the ground in the parking lot. He would rev up those blades and shoot that can across the parking lot like a hockey puck at a hundred miles per hour without warning. I don’t remember anyone ever getting hit by a can. But I can only imagine the damage it did to some of those cars and trucks parked outside. He was nuts!
The bar had a plywood dance floor in front of the stage about 20’ x 20’. At the height of Charlie’s career, the dance floor was often packed. One night the band was playing the song Jump by Kris Kross. The whole band was jumping up and down on stage along with the audience on the dance floor. Suddenly the floor gave way and crashed to the ground. The band never stopped and the crowd kept going even though it had fallen thru several inches to the ground. It was a wooden building and the supports just gave way under the jumping. No one got hurt from what I remember. The crowd looked like a group of midgets still jumping up and down. Nowadays someone would have sued for that, (so sad) but back then it was just another fun night at the club and a great laugh.
The club had two floors. There was an upstairs U-shaped balcony that had a bar with chairs and sofas and a wooden railing that wrapped around, overlooking the dance floor and the band. Many nights I watched guys fucking girls from behind, bent over that railing while the band played along like a soundtrack to their porno. It was in full view of the band and everyone in the balcony, but no one seemed to care. Sometimes upon closing, as a bartender, I had to interrupt a couple in the middle of carnal pleasures on the sofa to tell them to take it to the parking lot. We were closing. It was just par for Charlie’s.
One night for reasons unknown, the band started drinking tequila. We all took a break and headed out to the parking lot to sit at the picnic tables nearby. We exited through the back kitchen door and the audience went out through the main front door. While in the parking lot, I am not sure what happened. Someone threw a punch and the next thing I know the band and the customers were in a fistfight in the parking lot. In the midst of all the punches, kicks and yelling someone yelled, (maybe Charlie?) “Break’s over.” We all stopped, walked back into the bar and began to play again. The audience returned, started dancing and drinking. Everything went back to business as usual, like nothing ever happened.
One of the weird things about Charlie’s was it was located in Georgetown County, South Carolina, just a few hundred feet south of the Horry County line where Myrtle Beach is located. The laws of each county were different. We had to shut down Charlie’s at midnight on Saturday night because of the Georgetown County laws (no liquor sales on Sunday) but Horry County bars could serve until later. Every Saturday night with the bar packed we would yell, “Time to go”. The whole bar, band and all, would exit the place, jump in their vehicles and drive up the road to the next bar across the county line and continue the party there. It was a weird thing, but it was the law and it happened every week.
One Saturday night, someone that I can’t remember, showed up with a jar of moonshine. I had never had moonshine before, and standing in the back kitchen with the rest of the band we opened the Mason jar and began to pass it around. After a few minutes the jar was empty. I’m not really sure what happened after that. All I can say is I am pretty sure it was not a good show for the band. I woke up about a day and a half later at home, still fully clothed from the last time I left to go to work, boots and all. I walked to the window and saw my car sitting in the driveway. I still have no idea what happened that night or how I got home. It’s all a blank in my mind. However, I did learn a valuable lesson: stay away...