Mostly Harmless

Brad Evans

Stories Was everything and Everything was Stories -Harry Crews Brad Evans Interviews Folks from All Walks of Life. bradevans11.substack.com

Episodes

  1. Jun 1

    A Conversation with Jon Jackson

    Some people arrive in your life as a name first. For years, Jon Jackson existed in my world purely as a recommendation — handed to me like a gift whenever I needed something no ordinary person could provide. When my butterfly-chasing brain convinced me, briefly and gloriously, that I might take up falconry, someone said call Jon Jackson. Need an heirloom pig? Jon’s your guy. Old growth okra seeds from Africa? Same answer. I started to wonder if he might genuinely be the most interesting man in the world. Then I learned the rest of it. Jon Jackson is a decorated combat veteran — a U.S. Army Airborne Ranger who served six tours overseas. When he came home as a hundred percent disabled vet, he said nothing spoke to him — except growing food. So he built something. Comfort Farms sits just outside Milledgeville, Georgia — a therapeutic and training agricultural facility named in honor of his fallen Ranger brother, Captain Kyle Comfort, killed in action in 2010. A lover of culture, history, ancestry, and good food, Jon will tell you, “I love to understand how all of our cultures collide through food.” The man saved himself by putting his hands in the dirt, and then turned around and started saving everyone else. Last week, a bottle of whiskey between us, surrounded by a few good friends, I finally got to sit with the man behind the myth. His soul was exactly what I’d hoped for — bright, wide open, and generous in the way that only truly rooted people can be. I left that night feeling genuinely honored. You’re going to understand why. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bradevans11.substack.com/subscribe

    A Conversation with Jon Jackson
  2. May 18

    A Conversation with Paul Hornsby

    Paul Hornsby helped build the sound of Southern Rock before anybody even had a name for it. Long before Capricorn Records turned Macon into sacred ground for rock and roll, Paul was a kid in Alabama watching his father play fiddle, learning guitar and organ in Tuscaloosa R&B bands, and crossing paths with names that would become legends. He played alongside Eddie Hinton, Duane Allman, and Gregg Allman in a band called Hourglass — a group one manager called “the next Rolling Stones” before the record business managed to completely misunderstand them. When Duane asked Paul to join what would become the Allman Brothers Band, Paul said no. Instead, he stayed in Macon and went to work at a little studio called Capricorn Records. Paul produced The Marshall Tucker Band’s debut album and helped give the world “Can’t You See.” He produced Charlie Daniels classics like “The South’s Gonna Do It Again” and “Long Haired Country Boy.” Gold records, platinum records, wild stories, studio sessions, road gigs with Dr. John — and somewhere in the middle of all of it, Southern Rock was born. But this conversation isn’t just about music history. It’s about the people who built it. I’ve known Paul a long time. He’s one of the kindest men I’ve ever met, and somehow he still talks about all of this like he was just lucky to be standing nearby while history happened around him. Sitting in Muscadine Studios with him — surrounded by old photos, cigarette burns in the furniture, and a piano Gregg Allman sold him for 250 bucks decades ago — you can feel the ghosts of all those years sitting in the room with you. Paul Hornsby was there for all of it. And he’s still here to tell the story. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bradevans11.substack.com/subscribe

    A Conversation with Paul Hornsby
  3. Apr 17

    The King of Cocaine

    I’d been trying to get Jerry on the phone for almost a year. Mutual friends, messages passed through people, a couple of near-misses. He cancelled on me twice — which, if you know anything about drug dealer time, you know is practically punctual. I kid. He’s not a drug dealer anymore. He works at Anderson Diner, which has been in his family a long time and sits in the heart of Macon serving some of the best soul food you’re going to find anywhere in this city. The kind of place where the food tastes like somebody actually loves you. But in the 1980s, Jerry ran one of the most sophisticated cocaine operations this city has ever seen. Forty-five men. Four trap houses. All four corners of Macon. By his count — and I have no reason to doubt him — he was moving somewhere between sixty and eighty thousand dollars a day. He never touched the product. Never drank. Never used drugs of any kind. Not once. Not even a beer. All that cocaine flowing through his hands for years, and he never tried it once. I found that remarkable. I also found it smart. He found it obvious. He was a businessman. A very good one. Operating in the only market available to a Black kid from Tindall Heights who grew up with cardboard in his shoes, a mama working double shifts at the medical center, and a father who was gone by the time he was five. He tried to go straight. He worked at Georgia Power. He tried to enlist — the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the Marines. Kept missing the qualifying test by one point. The one time he passed, they gave the spot to someone else. So he made a decision. He knew exactly what that decision meant. He just didn’t know how long it was going to cost him. He got caught. Somebody he trusted set him up. He did twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine years in federal prison. Three life sentences. Three twenty-five year sentences running behind them. He filed three hundred and fifty motions trying to get out. Had a judge look him in the face and tell him, I don’t care if you’re right, I’m still turning you down. He finally got out on clemency granted personally by President Barack Obama, who called him on the phone before signing it. Jerry said he hit the floor crying. He said he’s still not over it. And now he’s here, talking to me, on a Tuesday afternoon, because he finally had time. This is Jerry’s story. And I think you should hear it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bradevans11.substack.com/subscribe

Ratings & Reviews

3.8
out of 5
4 Ratings

About

Stories Was everything and Everything was Stories -Harry Crews Brad Evans Interviews Folks from All Walks of Life. bradevans11.substack.com

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