Hoof Dog Needs Our Help!

What do you do when you lose your home and car because you have to quit your job to take care of your dying mother?

What do you do when a global pandemic hits and you can’t even look for work?

What do you do when you’re losing your vision and the surgery that you need is not covered by medicaid?

What do you do when you’ve been diagnosed with depression and can’t regularly access mental health resources?

What do you do when all of these things happen to you, one after the other over a period of years as the bills continue to pile up?

What do you do if you’re an artist and musician who has lost their musical equipment or art supplies?

If you’re Jefferson Douglas, you keep creating using the only thing you have left: your smart phone.

My name is Craig Bagby and I need your help. I’m fundraising for Jefferson Douglas to be able to overcome the myriad of catastrophes that he's faced over the past several years so that he can stay in the modest home he grew up in, pay down his utility bills, and introduce the world to his art and music. So let’s meet Hoof Dog. . .

Back in 1992, I was a dirt poor student at West Texas A&M University. I didn’t have enough money for rent or next semester’s tuition. But I was far more worried about finding a band to join than getting my degree.

I was sneaking into a friend’s dorm room for a place to stay and living off of two Allsups orange burritos and a pack of Marlboro Lights a day. I traded my Sony Discman for a Fender Lead III guitar without a case and pawned almost everything else I had left to get an Ampeg amp.

I tried for months to find a band and even started one of my own. But musically, nobody seemed to really get where I was coming from. Every bulletin board ad in the music stores in Amarillo was for Metal, Tejano, or Country stuff. Two of my four remaining CDs were by Elvis Costello and Squeeze. It felt hopeless. I just didn’t fit in.

Then a couple of friends told me about a band called Film at 11 that needed a rhythm guitarist. They thought I would get along with the band’s leader and frontman Jefferson Douglas. When I heard the three song audition tape, I was blown away.

Film at 11 reminded me of the Smithereens, REM, or The Plimsouls. I spoke this language. I loved the music. I could hear the harmony parts I could sing in my head. I loved the band name. I immediately called and set up an audition.

I remember pulling up to a double wide mobile home sitting all by itself off of a long dark dirt road for my audition. I was a little worried. Then Jefferson answered the door.

When he invited me in, it was like walking into another reality. Vivid colors and original art everywhere. Guitars and music gear everywhere. Rickenbackers, a strat, a telecaster, a P bass. Hundreds and hundreds of CDs. Remember, I had four.

A house, a person, a life completely devoted to artistry and music.

My audition took around 20 minutes. Then the real interview began.

For the next three hours we talked about bands and music. How much we missed the Replacements, Husker Du, Green on Red and the Long Ryders. How much we loved Jellyfish, Fleetwood Mac and Los Lobos. He introduced me to Big Star and Matthew Sweet that night.

To some, this might not sound like that big of a deal. For me, it was everything. I had walked into a new world.

A few days later I was asked to join Film at 11. For a couple of glorious months, I was a guitar player in a real band that was on college radio and got cool gigs. I was only a few rehearsals in when the rhythm section decided to form their own band and Film at 11 broke up. But it didn’t matter. I no longer felt like an outsider. I was no longer alone.

After the demise of the band, Jefferson and I teamed up with keyboardist Scott Melott and bassist Michael Devers to form The Groobees. To complete the band, I had to sell my guitar gear and buy a drum kit, which I had played a little back in high school.

Within three or four months of getting a drum kit, we were in a real recording studio. A few months later, we were in regular rotation on FM90, the 100,000 watt college radio station in Amarillo.

The salad days of the Groobees lasted a little over a year before Jefferson left the group. I stayed another 18 months or so before moving to Austin. Gary Thomasson and Susan Gibson ended up joining the band, with her song “Wide Open Spaces” in tow. And the rest is history.

Although Jefferson continued to write and record at his home studio, I don’t believe he ever recorded or performed publicly with another band again. His life long battle with depression always made playing live a challenge which is why he always leaned heavily into the creative process rather than performance.

I was out of contact with Jeff for several years until reconnecting over social media. We picked up without missing a beat and it’s been great to rekindle our friendship. But as his friend, it’s also been pretty tough to watch from the periphery as Jefferson’s life unraveled around him.

Over the past several years, Jefferson has been in the middle of a perfect storm of catastrophes. After going through the personal and financial struggles of a divorce, Jefferson’s mother began to lose her battle against Lupus. Having to care for her full time during her decline meant having to quit his job. Eventually he sold off almost all of his possessions and lost his home to pay for her care. Jefferson moved in with his mother until she passed.

Almost immediately after his mother’s passing, the pandemic hit. After not working for a couple of years, Jeff was unable to look for work for almost two more years and even caught COVID twice. And, of course, the bills continued to pile up.

As the pandemic eased and the world began to open back up, Jefferson’s eyes began to close. Literally.

He developed a condition that made it almost impossible for him to open his eyes. And if he did get them open, doing so would scratch his corneas. So he was faced with the choice of blindness or constant pain.

Thankfully, Jefferson’s friend and former music writer Phil Wells stepped in to help. Since the much needed eye surgery was not covered by Medicaid, Phil pulled money out of his teacher’s retirement account to pay for the procedure himself. He then set up a fundraiser for the surgery which was met with pretty limited results.

Meanwhile, the bills turned into shut off notices. Food began to run out. Heat and air conditioning went away, as did Jeff’s hope to change his situation. But despite having lost most of his possessions by this point, Jefferson never stopped making art. He painted and recorded music using the only device he had left: his smart phone.

Jefferson made thousands of pieces of artwork and at least five or six albums worth of original music on his phone. And I’m not talking about voice memos of song ideas played on an acoustic guitar. I mean fully produced and arranged songs with full (virtual) instrumentation. A massive body of meaningful creative work that might not ever be seen or heard by anyone else.

At this point, Jefferson was losing what little hope he had left. I became very worried that any recognition Jefferson deserved would be received posthumously. Out of this concern, an idea was born.

After cultivating relationships for 25 years in the Austin music scene, I decided to reach out to some friends, show them Jefferson’s songs, and ask them to sing one of them. I then asked multi-instrumentalist and producer Scott Davis if he would join me in being the backing band.

Happily, Kelly Willis, Nobody’s Girl, Charlie Faye, Jesse Ebaugh, Ray Prim, Graham Weber, The Belle Sounds and Bonnie Whitmore all agreed to help.

I did my best to put together artists with different styles to do Jeff’s songs. Because I believe his songs are too diverse to be defined by a single genre. They are just great songs and they need to be heard.

We have also built out a Hoof Dog page on Redbubble as a vehicle to sell his art. . . you should go grab a Hoof Dog shirt or mug!

The goal of this project is to help Jefferson get back to level footing. The goal is to get back to zero and go from there. It’s to help raise money to not only pay down his debt, but to also pay back the teacher who selflessly took money out of his own retirement account to help his friend. The goal is to get him regular access to mental health services. And the goal is for Jefferson’s songs to be heard and his art to be seen. The goal is to show Jefferson that he matters.

As a person who has struggled with major and agitated depression throughout my adult life, I fully understand what it’s like to not be capable of understanding your own value or self worth. I didn’t leave the Groobees in 1995 because I didn’t like my band. I loved my band. I left Amarillo in 1995 because I knew that if I didn’t jump in the truck and leave immediately, then I wouldn’t make it to 1996.

So now I’m asking you to please help me help Jefferson. Not out of pity, but out of respect for his craft. Help me to show him the value of his life’s work. Help me to show him that he’s not alone. Just like he showed me all thoes years ago.

Out of the thousands of drawings I’ve seen of Jeff’s, my favorite will always be Hoof Dog. Just a basic two minute doodle of a dog. Without thinking about it, Jefferson drew the dog with hooves instead of paws. And for some reason, it made perfect sense.

Hoof Dog is Jeff. Jeff is Hoof Dog. Imperfect. Funny. Oddly brilliant. Strangely loveable. Unforgettable.

It’s time for Hoof Dog to meet the world. Please help me introduce him.