The only cover on  All Alone . . .  was Debi Smith’s “My Father Was A Quiet Man.”  There were so many parallels between the father she describes in the song and my own dad that I had to include it.  My father too was born on a farm “out in Nebraska” (in 1902); I don’t know the degree to which the family’s farm suffered from drought (or, indeed, from the Dust Bowl) but surely it did some years.  Although he could be very funny, my dad was on the quiet side – not one to pontificate advice.  I learned, as Smith’s character does, from the example he set -- most importantly, I think, of the value of loyalty.

My father did get to hear me perform in my pop/acoustic music life, but he didn’t live long enough to hear my original writing and the songs on this album. 

© 1993 Debi Smith (Degan Music), 
recorded March 14 & 16, 2000 at Bias Studios (recorded and mixed by Jim Robeson)
available through Spotify and the iTunes Store


Steve, guitar and vocal
Robert Bartley, percussion
John Lewis, bass
Bill Starks, piano

On a farm out in Nebraska when the corn was three feet high --
Summer was hot as blazes -- a young boy's mouth was running dry --
The ground was parched as paper -- the dust hung like a cloud --
The silence drove the horses --it made no sense to curse aloud.


I can't say what my dad told me when I was very young.
My advice came from an inner voice; I learned to handle my own tongue.
I've made a mountain of mistakes; I do a good turn when I can
Not because of what Dad said to me -- my father was a quiet man.


When the lady from the city came with a check book in her hand,
They’d been living on nine dollars, and they were farming barren land.
His mother took the money, not ashamed but then not proud.
And that night when his parents fought, the young man didn't say a word out loud.


Though he wasn't much for talk, you could count on him to the end.
And when his pride was on the line, he knew just when to bend.
He always brought an extra pail of water from the well,
And if you needed a confidant, he was the one who would never tell.


A lesson from my father was in the watching of the man.
And now that I am older, I've begun to understand
My inner voice and Daddy go walking hand in hand.
And sometimes it’s not what you say but how you make your stand.