Workin' for MCA

Those Jacksonville boys sure knew how to lay it down when they cut "Workin' for MCA" for the Second Helping album back in 1974. Written by Ed King and Ronnie Van Zant, this one is pure autobiographical grit from the road and the honky-tonks. It tells the story of seven years of hard luck, grinding it out from the Florida border all the way up to Nashville, Tennessee, playing every joint and every dive they could find. Then along comes the Yankee Slicker, which turns out to be producer Al Kooper, saying maybe you're what I want. Want you to sign your contract, gonna give you lots of money, workin' for MCA. Nine thousand dollars, that's all we could win, but we smiled at the Yankee Slicker with a big ol' Southern grin. They're gonna take me out to California, make me a superstar, just pay me all of my money and mister maybe you won't get a scar. Suckers took my money since I was seventeen, if it ain't no pencil pusher it got to be a honky-tonk queen. But I'll sign my contract baby and I want you people to know that every penny that I make I'm gonna see where my money goes. That line about the scar is classic Ronnie, half joke and half dead serious warning that these Florida boys weren't about to get rolled.

The whole track was written special for the Sounds of the South press party that Al Kooper threw to show off his new label's acts. According to the booklet in the band's box set, when Skynyrd hit the stage with a roaring version of "Workin' for MCA," the party stopped cold while five hundred hardened industry vets stood up on chairs just to get a glimpse of these unknown Southern boys. That performance sealed the deal and they signed for that nine grand, which was more money than they'd ever seen at one time after years of playing for beer and gas money. Songfacts notes that the seven years of hard luck runs from 1966, when they settled on the Lynyrd Skynyrd name, through 1973 when the first album dropped. They weren't wide-eyed kids anymore by the time Kooper found them at a rough Atlanta club called Funochio's. They'd already lived in a shack called the Hell House out in Green Cove Springs, sweating through endless rehearsals in the Florida heat, and they'd opened for The Who on the Quadrophenia tour. At the first show at San Francisco's Cow Palace they were so nervous they did whiskey shots backstage and blistered through the set in a panic, but bassist Leon Wilkeson said they were the first opening act for The Who that didn't get booed. That same night Keith Moon passed out and a fan from the crowd had to take over on drums. Wild times, and this song captures that mix of hunger, suspicion, and Southern pride right as they were about to blow up with "Sweet Home Alabama" on the same album.

Al Kooper, who played organ on Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" and started Blood, Sweat & Tears, described the Record Plant studio in Los Angeles where they cut Second Helping as pure 1970s decadence with jacuzzis, bedrooms, and groupies running the halls. The Skynyrd boys were fish out of water but they kept their eyes on the money and the music. Later on, after the plane crash in 1977, MCA refused to cover medical bills for the survivors even though the band had been paid a weekly salary like employees. Artimus Pyle has talked about calling the label president the day after and getting turned down cold. The song was already warning folks about pencil pushers and wanting to see where the money goes, and history proved Ronnie right. Ed King even sued MCA years later over unpaid royalties. It is a cautionary tale wrapped in a three-guitar attack and a Hammond organ groove that still hits hard for the Zoo Freaks spinning it on THE ZOO.

The band got started the old-fashioned way with high school kids and baseball in Jacksonville, Florida. In the summer of 1964, teenagers Ronnie Van Zant, Gary Rossington, and Bob Burns met while playing on rival baseball teams. Ronnie hit a line drive that beaned Burns in the head, and after that they started jamming in the carport of Burns' parents' house, thrashing out Rolling Stones songs and whatever else they could learn. Allen Collins joined on guitar and Larry Junstrom on bass, and they began entertaining local audiences first as My Backyard, then The Noble Five, then The One Percent. They finally landed on Lynyrd Skynyrd in 1969 as a tongue-in-cheek poke at Leonard Skinner, the strict PE teacher at Robert E. Lee High School who hated long hair on the boys and made them get haircuts. Ronnie has said in interviews that they thought of the teacher and just changed the spelling. Gary Rossington even dropped out of school over the hair issue. They rehearsed in that abandoned shed known as the Hell House out in the swamps near Jacksonville, far from neighbors and noise complaints, writing songs and tightening the sound that mixed blues, country, and hard rock. By 1970 they cut demos at Muscle Shoals, though those got shelved until later. Al Kooper caught them in Atlanta in 1972 and that led to the MCA deal and the first album in 1973. From garage jams and ten-dollar gigs at barbecue joints to opening for The Who and selling millions, those boys earned every bit of it the hard way.

You can check out the official word from the band over at their site Lynyrd Skynyrd, where they still keep the free bird flying with the current lineup. They are on Facebook at Lynyrd Skynyrd, posting about tours and new releases. Instagram is @skynyrd for photos from the road and the Double Trouble shows. On X they are at @Skynyrd, sharing clips and ticket info for the faithful. For the fans there is a big active group called Skynyrd Nation on Facebook at Skynyrd Nation where folks share memories, photos, and stories about the old days and the new. Another solid one is Lynyrd Skynyrd Fans at Lynyrd Skynyrd Fans. These are the kind of places where the Zoo Freaks and the Skynyrd Nation cross paths, swapping tales about that three-guitar attack and the songs that still make you stand up and holler. Ronnie, Gary, Allen, Ed, and the rest built something that has lasted more than fifty years because they never forgot where they came from and they always wanted to see where the money went. That is the spirit behind "Workin' for MCA," and it is why the track still feels like a live wire when the Zoo Crew drops the needle on it for the listening audience out there on the airwaves.