Inspired by an L.A. Times story years ago chronicling the tale of a suburban Southern California man obsessed with gold digging—so obsessed he dug a 60-foot hole in his front yard. City officials were none too happy. John Cowsill—famous as part of the '60s family band that inspired The Partridge Family, and who played with The Beach Boys and now tours with his wife, Vicki Peterson of The Bangles—throws off the pop mantle and does an authentic country-folk vocal styling.
Lyrics
GOLD-DIGGIN' MAN
by Samantha Elin
John Cowsill — Vocals
Bob Gothar — Guitars, Mandolin, Banjo, Bass, Tambourine
Dan McNamara — Drums
Arranged by Bob Gothar
Recorded and Mixed by Samantha Elin and Bob Gothar at Tin Can Alley, Los Angeles, and by Dan McNamara at The Jingle Factory, Sherman Oaks, CA
Mastered by Matt Forger
The early light cut through a torn curtain
Lit his wife’s hair a fiery gold
He left her side to see if the kids were still dreaming
He shivered hard in the brazen cold
He slipped down to the basement and pulled out a shovel
Splinters tore through his calloused hands
Then he snuck out back to finish what his great-granddaddy started
He was a silver-seekin’, gold-diggin’ man
He worked until his arms ached and the sweat flew off his shoulders
Threw down his shovel to catch one breath
His kids didn’t understand him and his wife turned a blind eye
The neighbors, they shrugged and turned their heads
But his will knew no boundaries and his faith was like floodwater
That swells deeper as it hits the dam
And the dirt piled all around him as he dug his life away
He was a silver-seekin’, gold-diggin’ man
He’d dig a hole to China, at least New Mexico
He’d give his soul for riches far below
His future shimmered bright, gold dust between his toes
The metal rods that shook, they told him so
His great-granddaddy rode West in 1848
Empty pockets, big dreams all he had
Miners cried “Eureka,” greed grew strong and fast
His best friend shot him in the back
The days rambled on and the sun sank soft and low
Everett Dunn felt closer to the prize
But his fate would soon appear in the guise of uniforms
Wild dreams the laws often despise
The men carried folders with papers signed and stamped
Citing Mr. Dunn with misuse of his land
Backyards are for mowing, not mining they told him
The silver-seekin', gold-diggin' man
On a quiet Sunday morning Everett died a broken soul
The preacher begged mercy for the damned
Now the dousing rods lie rusted in a tangle of weeds
Above the silver-seekin’, gold-diggin’ man
The silver-seekin', gold-diggin' man