Business Suits Compete With Ol’ Boy Attire at Arts Center

They did a booming business in Johnny Cash train whistles at the Orange County Performing Arts Center on Tuesday night.

“Sold 52 of ‘em so far, and the evenin’ ain’t over,” said Peggy Knight, who was doing her best to turn the Segerstrom Hall lobby into a carnival midway during an intermission in the Johnny Cash show, the first country act ever to play the Center.

Knight curved her lips around the wooden whistle--”Made by a guy in Indiana,” she said--and blew. The sound came as close to a lonesome train crossing the plains at night as anyone could expect from a six-buck toy. Her souvenir stand--under a canopy that said “Opera” but overflowing with Johnny Cash books and bandannas, tapes and T-shirts--was mobbed.

Tim McCoy, who’d arrived on his shovelhead stretch-frame Harley chopper, surveyed the mirrored walls of the central staircase and declared the Center a hit. The bearded motorcycle mechanic from Fullerton had never been to the Costa Mesa concert hall before.

“This place is really elegant,” he marveled. “I’ve been to nice places like the Pacific Amphitheatre and that kind of stuff, but I’m kinda lost here. Where’s the bar? I want some whiskey.”

In his leather jacket, work jeans and slogan T-shirt (“Home Is Where Your Scooter Is”), McCoy, 32, stood out from a largely middle-aged, conservatively dressed crowd that seemed overawed by its surroundings. The crowd sounded, even during the concert, as though it had been domesticated.

In fact, the crowd’s utter civility left the Costa Mesa police sergeant who was posted in the lobby with nothing to do except enjoy the show. “I guess management didn’t know what to expect,” he said, referring to his conspicuous, uniformed presence. “Better to be prepared than not prepared.”

Meanwhile, some fans in the balcony claimed they got dirty looks from neighbors when they began clapping and stomping. “We were afraid if we got too rowdy, they wouldn’t have another country show again,” one said.

But if business suits and ties tended to dominate, the real Cash die-hards dusted off their cowboy gear. Rich Matthews of El Toro showed up in a huge black Stetson jammed low over his ears. He and his wife, Janie, had been to the Center once before--for the New York City Ballet--and both evinced surprise that Cash was playing there.

“You’d think he would be somewhere (at a) honky tonk,” she said.

One native Dallas fan turned out dressed to the nines in full good-ol’-boy regalia. Harry Wasson wore what might be termed a Texas tuxedo, though his wife, Carolyn, called it “his Hopalong Cassidy suit.”

He had on a white 10-star Stetson, a black shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, black pants, lizard-skin boots and a Mexican cigar--the kind you chew but never light--planted in the corner of his mouth.

“I guess if we were in a honky tonk, I’d have some mud on the boots,” said Wasson, who lives in Anaheim Hills and is executive director of a computer software company.

“I’ve seen everything from evening gowns to jeans,” Carolyn said.

While some Cash swells showed up in customary Center style--bejeweled and furred--there were many more pickup trucks than limousines in evidence and, tellingly, the bartenders couldn’t give away the $4.50-a-glass champagne.

“I’ve sold three glasses,” said William Coleman, who was tending bar on the orchestra level. “I usually sell a bunch.”

The popular drink was $3-a-bottle beer, not surprisingly--but it was strictly Heineken; no Coors or Bud. And you could have died thirsting for a shot of Jack Daniels, which was much in demand. You settled for the house bourbon.

Said Bill Rivers, an animal trainer from Norco and a longtime Cash fan: “I heard about this Center before. To tell you the truth, I feel a little out of place here.”