Jerry Jeff Walker Traded His Shot Glass for Putter

In the 1970s, Jerry Jeff Walker established his credentials as a Texas troubadour and as a confirmed reprobate who wasn’t ashamed to come off on stage as a hard-drinking good ol’ boy.

In the ‘60s, he had been a wandering folk singer, traveling a course as far from mainstream American career curricula as one could get.

He settled in Austin in 1970 and became affiliated with the “Outlaw” movement that set itself apart from country music conventions by adopting rock ‘n’ roll attitudes. In a homespun, gravelly voice, Walker sang convincingly about the drifting life, about the joys of drinking with a bunch of friends and, in “Mr. Bojangles,” the song that assures his place in pop history, about the hard times and graceful movements of an old street dancer.

Walker’s reprobate ways paid off on that one: A charge of drunk and disorderly behavior landed him in a New Orleans jail house for a few days during his scuffling period, and the character who inspired “Mr. Bojangles” was one of his cellmates.

Walker’s fondness for downing shots and beers ended when the ‘80s began. Nowadays, he is more interested in sinking birdie putts. Still a troubadour by night, Walker is a golf enthusiast by day, playing to an eight handicap. Instead of carousing after a show, he gets to bed so he can get up early and tee off.

“In the ‘50s I caddied and worked around a (golf) club,” Walker, who plays Thursday night at the Coach House, said in a phone interview Monday. “In the ‘60s, I thought golf was bourgeois, so I didn’t play at all for 20 years. In the ‘80s I started running, staying in shape,” and leading the healthy, well-regulated life that brought him back to golf.

“I got to be 40, and it was a chore to do the things we used to do. Drink a fifth of whiskey, do shows and board a plane,” Walker said. “I don’t want everybody to think I was the only one who had a lot of fun in the ‘70s. There were a whole lot of other people who did the same stuff.” Walker, now 46, figures that he also isn’t alone in moderating his ways.

Walker said he didn’t set out to cultivate a carousing image in the ‘70s. It came naturally. “I always liked having a good time. I got into this business because I got fired from any job I ever had because I stayed out late playing music.”

Over the past three years, Walker has performed solo, accompanying himself on guitar. “I enjoy the freedom and the mobility,” he said, as well as the low overhead. “I found I was making three times as much money as I was with the band.”

Walker hasn’t recorded for a label since 1982, when he released “Cowjazz” on MCA. Two years ago, he made his recording comeback by independently releasing his 17th album, “Gypsy Songman,” a collection consisting mainly of new versions of old Walker favorites. Walker said he plans to follow it with another album this fall.

Although he built a solid following with songs such as “Mr. Bojangles,” “L.A. Freeway” and “Up Against the Wall Redneck,” Walker has never had a Top 40 album or single. True to the easygoing philosophy that crops up often in his songs, he says that hasn’t been his aim.

“I don’t try to write songs that will further my career. I write about things that I care about,” he said. “I don’t have a career as much as I’m having an adventure with a guitar. I never liked the business way of doing it. You have to follow some sort of instinct. ‘Am I on a course that I feel happy about, or a course that makes me feel pent-up and frustrated and trapped?’ ”

Walker said his last major “re-evaluation” came in 1983 when he and his wife, Susan, came close to leaving Austin. Texas’ development boom, fueled by high oil prices, was changing the scene, and Walker considered moving to Idaho or Wyoming. The oil bust that has hurt the Texas economy wasn’t such a tragedy to Walker. “The bottom fell out, the greedy people left and the people who wanted to live there stayed.”

As a solid burgher of Austin, Walker these days throws an annual bash in March for his birthday that centers on his chief interests: there’s a concert, a “fun run,” and a golf tournament. It is a long way from being down and out in a cell down in New Orleans.

The real-life figure on whom he based “Mr. Bojangles” is lost to the song’s myth. Walker said that he never heard from him again and that nobody ever came forward claiming to be Mr. Bojangles. “But people claimed to be me, back in the ‘70s. That’s a dangerous job, so I just sat back and let them try to do it. I wonder if they’re still alive?”

Jerry Jeff Walker and Texas songwriter Hal Ketchum play Thursday night at 8 at the Coach House, 33157 Camino Capistrano, San Juan Capistrano. Tickets cost $17.50. Information: (714) 496-8930.