Remembering the rock band SHOCK: Shut down by the school superintendent but welcomed in the funeral home

Editor’s note: This is the second part in a three-part series to be included in the personal memoir now being assembled by Ozark County native Sid Pierce, a Navy veteran, retired teacher and Branson sound technician who for many years traveled the world with country music recording artist Roy Clark. His dad, the late Herman Pierce (1922-1994), served as Ozark County Sheriff for 20 years. In part one of the series, published in the April 21 edition of the Times, Pierce described how his love for creating music began in 1971 while standing in the lunch line at Gainesville High School, where he met Randy Thorburn and Kelly Edwards, who wanted Pierce to join them in starting a rock band. They named it SHOCK. Fellow students Leon Eslinger and Jeff Smith joined the band, and Kim Ebrite became the manager. 

During the summer of 1972, our band SHOCK spent a great deal of time on Bull Shoals Lake just hanging out and being lake bums. We had grown out our hair during the summer months as the school dress code forbade boys from having hair touching their ears. We camped out the week before school started. It was during this campout that we played the Black Oak Arkansas band’s first album over and over. 

As soon as school got underway, Leon Eslinger quit the band to play basketball. I really wanted to play the drums but couldn’t talk my dad into getting me a set. I tried to save money for a drum set, but even with two jobs they were not within reach. 

SHOCK enlisted Mike Guffey to be our new drummer, even though he was in junior high. Mike was a good drummer; however, he was somewhat unfamiliar with the hard rock songs we were playing. 

SHOCK was often asked to play for functions at the school. When we were invited to play for the all-school homecoming reunion, we hesitated but performed nonetheless. We knew that most of the audience was of our parents’ generation and would not enjoy our style of music, but we did our best. Afterward, we were told we were too loud and that it sounded like we had a broken speaker so no one could hear the lyrics. (The latter was probably for the best!)

There was a rumor that Black Oak Arkansas, one of our favorite groups, had relocated from California to Oakland, Arkansas. SHOCK made a number of trips to Oakland attempting to meet them. We had so many questions about how to become a national touring and recording act. But every time we were able to talk to someone at their lodge in Oakland, we were told, “They’re on the road . . .” 

Every few months, Black Oak Arkansas and another band, REO Speedwagon, would play concerts at the Shrine Mosque in Springfield. On the afternoons of their concerts, as soon as school let out for the day, I would fill my mom’s stationwagon full of high school students, and we would head north. After a stop at McDonald’s, we would station ourselves at the doors of the venue. Concerts in those days were general admission, and once the doors opened, a mad dash was made to the spot in front of the stage. The Gainesville teenagers were always well represented there, front and center.

Being exposed to professional entertainers made SHOCK want to put on a more theatrical show. One night, we experimented at a dance by wearing face makeup similar to the stuff Alice Cooper wore. When someone said, “Herman’s here,” the band took an immediate break mid-song to go to the  kitchen. We were pushing each other away from the sink in a rush to get “that crap” off our faces before Dad saw us! 

Another night, Kelly Edwards bought a couple of cases of cream pies for a pie fight. We trashed the community building with cream pies, but after we cleaned up our mess, no one was ever the wiser. If the adults had seen it, that would have been our farewell performance. 

Once again SHOCK was asked to perform at that year’s Junior-Senior Banquet. We put our heads together to figure out just how we were going to give them a memorable show. This year we definitely were not going to be wearing white pants and red shirts! 

One of the band members, Randy Thorburn, wanted to build fake speaker cabinets and light them on fire during our last song. We voted that idea down right away. Instead, we bought some cheap guitars to bust like Black Oak Arkansas did on their last song. While the audience was dressed up, some in the band wore jeans with patches on them, and I cut up my T-shirt to the point there wasn’t much left of it. 

Kim Ebrite flashed the colored stage lights while we played and then turned on our strobe light. A few members of the audience got up and started dancing as we were playing our last song, Alice Cooper’s “I’m Eighteen.” All was going as planned until the electricity was shut off. Benton Breeding, the school superintendent, had shut us down. Principal Paul Herd’s voice could be heard in the total darkness, saying, “That’s all, people. Go home!” 

Mike Guffey continued playing the drums until the lights came back on and the only people left were faculty members and the students who were responsible for cleaning up. A couple of our teachers visited with us afterward but had a hard time verbalizing their support of our avant garde performance. We tore down our equipment and left, realizing that not many in the audience were entertained and we would probably have some explaining to do on Monday.

“How do you explain art?” I kept asking my bandmates.

The following Monday morning, Mr. Herd did the usual morning school announcements. When he finished, he told the student body that Mr. Breeding had a few words to share. Mr. Breeding then lectured us over the intercom for the next 30 minutes about how the country’s morals were under attack by deviant forces. 

Between classes the band members were asked questions by the bewildered student who hadn’t attended the banquet. 

“Just what did you guys do?” 

“Sid, it was really weird...” 

“I don’t get it…”

“Why can’t you guys just be normal?”

Occasionally, there was a “You guys were great!”

It was a strange day in the history of SHOCK. Between classes, the band members just looked at each other, and not much was said. 

During the summer of ’73, people started telling me that Randy Fish was playing guitar. That meant I had to check out his equipment and hear him play. Not only did Randy pick up the guitar, he had just gotten a Farfisa organ. Randy was shy but talented. I immediately wanted him in SHOCK. 

Mike Guffey quit the band that summer, and I was finally able to trade a few things for a drum set. The night of the day I got it, I played a four-hour dance in Ava at the Teen Recreation Center just off the square. It was fun playing for a group of teenagers we didn’t know. We really enjoyed playing out of town. It was our first “road gig”! 

Next we were asked to play at Dale Riddle’s Teen Center in Isabella. 

Everyone was very supportive of Randy being in the group. Not only did he play the Farfisa, he could also play guitar and sing lead. So, as we made some personnel changes that summer, our sound was becoming more refined. 

Our biggest obstacle was finding places to practice. We had outgrown my parents’ living room. Once we attempted practicing on the carport, and after we played a couple of songs, the sheriff’s office called to tell us about the complaints. Marvin Kirkpatick let us use his house one night a week, but we soon outgrew his living room too. 

My dad never told us we couldn’t play music, but he wouldn’t fail to shut us down when he got a complaint. 

Then, a breakthrough: Charles Fish, Randy’s dad, said we could practice at Clinkingbeard Funeral Home, where he was the manager, embalmer and funeral director. Our friends would show up and sit in the pews of the funeral chapel while we rehearsed our loud rock music. 

Charles and Wilma just shook their heads but were always supportive. Charlies did say on occasion that our music might just raise the dead.

To be continued.