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A Willie nice house - Online Exclusive!
By JEFF PRINCE
Willie Nelson: An Epic Life covers the singer’s life from conception to now, and it especially resonates while discussing his years in Fort Worth, where he lived in the 1950s. The book mentions two of his former home addresses, and so, for a goof, I drove by the houses to see where Willie used to live when he was a struggling radio disk jockey, door-to-door salesman, musician, and Sunday School teacher.
Both houses are on the South Side of town, near Loop 820 and McCart Avenue. The first one I stopped at was on Sharondale Street, a small frame house with vinyl siding in a weary neighborhood that’s slowly crumbling under the encroachment of new development. I left my card in the mailbox near the street without knocking on the door – an iron fence with a padlocked gate surrounded the house, making it impossible to even ring the doorbell. A couple of trucks were parked in the driveway but didn’t look as if they’d been driven in a while. Tarrant Appraisal District (TAD) records list the 790-square-foot house as built in 1955 (making it fairly new when Willie lived there) and currently valued at $48,700.
The other house, nearby on Morrell Street, looked nicer, with a brick façade and tan and maroon trim. The 1,220-square-foot house was built in 1957, and TAD lists it at $71,100. Two comfortable chairs were perched on a small front porch overlooking the neighborhood. The homeowner didn’t want his name published, but said he had lived there for 10 years and knew at the time he bought the house that it once belonged to Willie – the sellers told him.
“Some old neighbors who used to live around here told us the same thing,” he said. “They said Willie would sit on this front porch and play and sing.”
The guy wasn’t that impressed, and he certainly didn’t pay extra for the satisfaction of living in a house that once sheltered the guy who is now an internationally revered Texas treasure and probably the most legendary country-and-western singer songwriter still living and working. When asked if he was a Willie fan, the homeowner said, “Somewhat, not really -- ain’t nothing wrong with the guy.”
Had he found any hidden mementos from Willie’s time spent there? An unfinished song scribbled on stationary and tucked away in a drawer? A demo tape fallen behind a cabinet? A musty bag of 1950s-era weed stashed behind a loose tile? A freaking guitar pick, for chrissakes?
Nope, the homeowner wasn’t aware of anything like that, but he hadn’t looked very hard. “I’ve never been in the attic because the ladder is broke,” he said. “I need to go check up in the attic.”
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