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Leslie, Sean and Danny Crooks |
That Danny Crooks, Steamboat’s infamously outspoken owner, has a lot to say about his family and their life in the club business isn’t surprising. Danny Crooks has a lot to say about virtually everything. On the other hand, if a picture really is worth a thousand words, then at least this time Crooks could have saved his breath. Hanging in the hallway of the clubowner’s South Austin home — proudly positioned so that it’s the first thing seen upon entering — this framed picture says more about Crook’s relationship with his 16-year-old son, Sean, than either one of them could ever articulate. To the naked eye, it’s merely a picture of Sean on stage with local rock band Vallejo. In the Crooks household, however, this Kodak moment is a singular one — a professional debut. “When that photo was taken,” says Crooks, pointing to the picture, “my wife and I were crying. He’s my kid. It wasn’t like we were sitting there watching a band we’ve seen 50 times. And as he was up there playing, we had to go to the back of the club. We didn’t want him to look down at us from the stage and have to see his parents bawlin’. It was one of the coolest moments of our lives.”
By all accounts, it was also one of the coolest moments of Sean Crook’s life. How could it not be? When your father’s a clubowner, and you’ve literally grown up around musicians, the act of actually becoming a musician and playing your father’s club has “thrill” written all over it. After all, Sean’s entire childhood is inextricably linked with Steamboat’s history.
From 1986 to 1989, Danny Crooks managed JD’s West, a now-defunct country dance hall. Although Crooks would get the deejays to make his son mix tapes, it was clearly no place for a toddler to hang out. And by the time Crooks began managing Steamboat later in ’89, Sean was still just seven. Yet, just as local musicians value day jobs with flexible enough hours to let them rehearse, gig, and tour, Crooks says he’d originally approached the club business as the perfect parent’s job; he could spend his days raising his son and work nights, all without having to introduce Sean to the club environment too early.
“The reason I do what I do for a living is because of him,” says Crooks. “We never wanted daycare. My wife [Leslie] works for UT, so she works days and I work nights. Before he started school, I’d get to be home all day with him and of course she’d be here at nights to take care of him. I never had to bring him down to the club before Leslie and I thought he was ready. The job’s always been perfect in that respect.”
When Sean himself decided he was ready and interested in what was going on down at Steamboat, it was mostly because he’d met the club’s resident musicians at his home. Turns out that as long as Danny has been involved with Steamboat, his weekly schedule has included a backyard barbecue for as many musicians as he could afford to feed. Since Sean wanted to see what his new friends did for a living, it wasn’t long before Danny set a stool up for him stageside. Between this and the barbecues, there’s no doubting that father’s vocation fueled son’s interest in music.
“Austin has some cool musicians,” says Danny, “and I wouldn’t invite them over to my house to eat my food unless they were people I felt comfortable being with my family. And because of Steamboat, Sean’s met a lot of the Austin music scene, and the ones he liked became his best friends, his uncles, or brothers — whatever you want to call them.
“Sean’s just part of another generation. When I first moved to Austin and hung out at the Armadillo, there were all these rugrats running around bothering us, spare-changing us, and playing in the mud by the railroad. That was Ian and Chaney Moore and Will and Charlie Sexton, kids that are now in the scene.”
In fact, Crooks says that because folks like Will Sexton and Johnny Goudie grew up to become not just Sean’s babysitters and musical mentors, but also Danny’s closest friends, he believes Steamboat’s musicians have helped bridge the typical father and son gap.
“I’m 45 and hang out with 20-year-olds. That’s the business I’m in. However, Sean’s my best friend. We’re together every day, like the same things, and have the same interests. We’ve never had that weird time between a teenager and his dad, and that’s probably evolved out of Steamboat. I feel as comfortable with 16-25-year-olds as I do with 45-55-year-olds, if not more, because most of the older folks I meet have forgotten what they enjoy about life. Sean and the musicians keep me feeling young.”
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Crooks is clear, though; he never pushed his son into music just for the sake of his own personal fountain of youth. He didn’t have to. With all the musicians at home and at the club — not to mention all the equipment never claimed — there were always instruments left around for a curious child to pick up. The clincher: In 1992, when Steamboat hosted a promotion for Stevie Ray Vaughan’s In The Beginning album, Sean picked up the grand prize — an SRV Signature Strat — after Danny bought it from the winner, who needed rent money. The results? Piggie Hat, Sean’s genuinely promising collaboration with 15-year-old songwriter Jodee Purkeypile — a band that’s already played you-know-where a half-dozen or so times.
“I realized my son has natural stage presence, perhaps because the stage is like his living room,” says Danny, now enjoying his role as Piggie Hat’s guitar tech and roadie. “He grew up sitting on the corner of the stage he’s now playing, so how could he not feel comfortable?”
And that’s not all Sean’s learned.
“I’ve also learned how to handle my band’s business affairs,” says Sean, finally getting in a few words. “I know that if my dad wasn’t working at Steamboat I wouldn’t have this chance to play. But while I do, I’d be a fool not to apply what I’ve learned — like not playing too often, loyalty to a club, and promoting yourself. From my dad’s work with all those bands, I’ve been able to see all their mistakes and can learn from them.”
Even more than that practical knowledge, Sean says he’s actually been going to Steamboat for other reasons of late. Rather than just watch the musicians, he now wants to learn the business side of the business — his father’s end. “I’m still just hanging around, but now I want to see what he does — taking alcohol orders, booking, and overseeing the bartenders, waitresses, door, sounds, and lights. That side of it is now just as important as the music.”
If it sounds like Sean Crooks is preparing to take over the family business, it’s because he is. Can we expect another tear-jerking photo, perhaps of Danny passing the Steamboat keys to Sean, hanging in the Crooks’ hallway anytime soon?
“I’ve always encouraged him to do what makes him happy,” says Danny. “And I’ve done this my whole life. My family was always saying, `When are you going to get a job? When are you going to grow up?’ Now that I’m 45 and they’re older, they’re telling me they wish they’d done what I did.
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photograph by Bruce Dye |
“When I’m ready to quit, he’ll be the one to take it over, if he wants to do that. I’m just hoping he’ll sell a couple of million records first and take care of his dad.”
This article appears in December 26 • 1997 and December 26 • 1997 (Cover).