Why My Way Is Toward Bakersfield

In his book “Californians: Searching for the Golden State,” James D. Houston makes clear that, while it’s close enough to L.A. to practically be reflected in its glitter, Kern County has never had much luck pulling in sightseers.

In one atlas, Houston notes, “on the page where ‘Major Tourist Attractions’ are marked with circles and dots of various colors, Kern is blank. Gray Line buses do not linger in Bakersfield or Oildale or Taft.”

Though Houston’s work was published in 1982, his words are essentially true today. But there’s been at least one notable crowd magnet added since then: Buck Owens’ Crystal Palace, opened in Bakersfield in 1996.

I thought about this musical mecca after I’d read J.R. Moehringer’s delightful piece on the night he spent at Twin Palms, Frank Sinatra’s 4,500-square-foot house in Palm Springs (“‘The House I Lived In,’” page 28). Moehringer does his best to play it cool, to convince himself that he won’t succumb to star worship. But it’s no use.

“We hand over our hearts to those celebrities (or athletes, or painters, or physicists) who match our notion of the Ideal,” Moehringer writes, “and the choice is as personal, as chemical, and ultimately as involuntary as our choices of lovers and friends.”

My own heart, I admit, has been seized by Buck Owens. I’m a sucker for the mixture of pathos and playfulness in his songs, and I dare you not to tap your toe when that Telecaster-driven, honky-tonk rhythm known as the Bakersfield Sound gets going.

It’s no wonder that when asked how she’d define country music, the angel-voiced Emmylou Harris said: “Listen to Buck Owens and the Buckaroos doing ‘Second Fiddle.’”

And so I head over the Tehachapis whenever I can to catch Buck and the band. They play Crystal Palace almost every Friday and Saturday, drawing about 400 people per show.

At age 76, Buck remains the quintessential entertainer; he steps onstage, whether to deliver a tune from his long string of No. 1 hits or some “Hee-Haw”-esque humor, and you can’t take your eyes off him.

My 13-year-old daughter, Emma, is even willing to tag along, especially now that I’ve informed her the Beatles’ “Act Naturally” was a cover of an old Owens smash.

After an evening of food and drink and bumbling our way on the dance floor next to all the fancy two-steppers, we stay at the Best Western Crystal Palace Inn & Suites, right on Buck Owens Boulevard.

Granted, it’s not quite the Chairman of the Board’s place. But it is conveniently located across the parking lot from Owens’ nightclub. And it doesn’t cost $2,150 a night like Sinatra’s residence; a nice room goes for $79.99, complete with a full breakfast.

Of course, the pool isn’t shaped like a piano, as Sinatra’s is. With a little imagination, though, one end of it kind of looks like a pedal-steel guitar.