Ropers and Dopers
The Texas High School Culture War of the 1970s
Willie Nelson was the Great Peacemaker
And on the seventh day, there was disco
The aftershocks of the cultural revolution of the 1960s continue to this day. “The Sixties” opened up fissures in American society that have not yet closed, pitting neighbor against neighbor and friend against friend, ever since I was growing up in the 1970s.
I refer to the Roper vs. Doper war in America, which particularly was fought in the South and Southwest. And particularly in Texas. And in particular in the public junior high school and high school I attended in Austin, Texas, during the Nixon, Ford, and Carter years.
Ropers and Dopers were not the only names for the two sides in this simmering suburban civil war. The same factions were sometimes called Kickers and Stoners. Some linguistic purists insist that Ropers originally described “goat-ropers,” members of the redneck community who had lower status than “shit-kickers” — goat-boys being considerably lower on the prestige ladder …
Louisville Man
Ryan Davis joins Will Oldham and Slint in the big city of the Midwest
‘I really only kind of know how to do one thing’
Louisville, Kentucky, on the other hand, is neither Southern nor Midwestern
It’s a straight shot up I-65 from Louisville to Chicago, through nearly three hundred miles of worn-out gas stations, dilapidated motels, factory towns, and wind turbines. It’s a drive Ryan Davis has made many times, and it’s a trail that’s been paved by many Louisville artists before him. There’s Catherine Irwin, one half of the seminal alt-country band Freakwater, who moved north and worked with Thrill Jockey. There’s Will Oldham, who’s been at Drag City for three decades now. And there’s Slint, who recorded with Steve Albini and released records on Touch and Go. “I think there was this relationship between the two cities that was fruitful for a long time,” Davis tells me in the greenroom before his sold-out Chicago show. “And it still is.”
After playing a hometown gig near Louisville, Davis pointed his tour van up the highway and drove five hours to the Windy City, which he calls his “home …
Something Better Than Fun
Stalking the Depths with Captain Jehovah
Hemingway-esque bad boy Richard Ford is a devoted homebody, with a peripatetic streak and a pair of spaniels
He speaks for New Jersey
“The last time I went fishing with Captain Jehovah I hooked myself under the back of my hand,” Richard Ford said as he scanned the ethnic food aisle at Hannaford’s, searching for a jar of tapenade. “I tried to push it through the underside of my skin so we could cut the barb off. But skin is tough.”
A friend on the boat — a famous author — told him to “stop being a pussy” and just take a swig of whiskey so he could get it over with, he told me as he strode with purpose towards the pickles and olives section. Ford had scheduled us for a fishing charter with Captain Jehovah in the morning.
“Is that what you did?” I asked.
“Hell no. This wasn’t Andersonville,” Ford said, referring to the Confederate prisoner of war camp. He weighed the merits of jarred pesto. “I went to the hospital.”
His phone rang.
“That’s probably my sweet girl calling me now.”
Richard Ford isn’t …
