By Emily Banks Wooten [email protected]
It was a busy morning at the office on June 27 when I learned that Kinky Friedman had died in his home at the age of 79 from complications from Parkinson’s disease. My breath caught for a moment and then I chuckled to myself, raising an imaginary glass in a toast to him. I hadn’t thought of Kinky in years, but memories soon flooded my mind of the Jewish cowboy with his black cowboy hat and ever-present cigar in hand.
A few days later, I searched my bookshelves until I put my hands on the signed, first-edition copy of one of the many books he wrote, “‘Scuse Me While I Whip This Out - Reflections on Country Singers, Presidents, and Other Troublemakers.” I chuckled again, reading the inscription, “For Emily, May the God of your choice bless you. Kinky Friedman 8-192005.”
A singer, songwriter, humorist, author and larger-than-life persona, Kinky was one of a kind. With a wry sense of humor and keen eye for satire, there was nothing that was not fair game for his irreverence. He and his band, the Texas Jewboys, satirized American culture and developed a following with songs like “They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore” and “Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in Bed.”
He began writing detective novels after his band broke up and wrote a column for Texas Monthly magazine in the 2000s, sharing his thoughts on politics, music and life in rural Texas.
I first crossed paths with Kinky in the summer of 2004 in Austin when he was one of the speakers at a newspaper convention I was attending. We met, visited a little, had a picture taken and that was that.
The following spring, in front of the Alamo in downtown San Antonio, he announced his run, as an Independent, for governor of Texas. He was in favor of public schools and higher teacher pay, gay rights, the legalization of marijuana and alternative fuel resources. He was against capital punishment and what he called the “wussification” of Texas.
We crossed paths again in August 2005 when he made a campaign stop in Lufkin. My then-boyfriend/nowhusband and I drove over, visited with him and he signed our books. Later that year, in December, he came to Livingston for a private event in a friend’s home and I had the opportunity to visit with him once more. What impressed me most was that as many people as I’m sure he interacted with daily, he remembered me – and called me by name – both the second and third time we met.
He eventually lost to incumbent Republican Rick Perry, finishing fourth in a six-way race at 12.4 percent, or 547,674 votes total. He would unsuccessfully run for office two more times, as the Democratic nominee for state agriculture commissioner, in 2010 and 2014.
Born in Chicago in 1944 to Russian Jewish parents, his family moved to Texas the year after he was born, eventually settling in Medina, where his parents founded the Echo Hill Ranch Summer Camp. He graduated in 1966 with a bachelor’s degree in psychology from the University of Texas at Austin. Following graduation, he spent two years in Borneo with the Peace Corps before returning to Texas.
He founded the Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch in Medina with a mission to care for stray, abused and aging animals, ultimately saving the lives of more than 1,000 dogs. After inheriting Echo Hill Ranch from their parents, he and his sister ran the summer camp – free of charge – for children of parents killed while serving in the U.S. military.
Despite his flamboyance, he was extremely down to earth and a champion for the underdog. Remarkably witty and deft with turn of phrase, I can only imagine the tales he is sharing with the angels.
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