In late 1967, White Light was founded by Rob Haeuser (Bass guitar), Mike Hobren (Lead guitar and backing vocals), Tracy Pfisterer (Drums), Dennis Saucier (Rhythm guitar), and Jayce Tohline (Lead Vocals). While other bands were playing Dixieland Jazz and Blues, White Light focused on what we considered the future of music: Progressive Rock. Bands like Jimi Hendrix ("Purple Haze"), The Vanilla Fudge ("You Keep Me Hangin' On"), and The Doors ("Light My Fire") were at the top of the band's playlist, and epitomized the sound White Light was developing. In fact, we played "Light My Fire" even though we didn't have a keyboardist!

We were all underage, but that didn't stop us from gigging in uptown bars like The Rathskeller, on the Mississippi River in the riverboat "Mark Twain," or bringing down the house at Tulane fraternities like Sigma Nu. Possibly our strangest gig was on November 5, 1968, when we provided the entertainment for Richard Nixon's election celebration, sponsored by the Tulane Young Republicans. It turned out that this White Light's last gig.

The band split up in early 1969, less than a year and a half after its inception. College life was looming large, and the age disparity between the youngest and oldest members had become a hindrance to real progress. While some of us (Rob and Mike) went on to form or join other bands, the rest apparently dropped out of the music scene entirely. It seemed that White Light was just a quickly fading memory.

White Light band practice in New Orleans, circa 1967
From left: Jayce Tohline (vocals), Tracy Pfisterer (drums), Mike Hobren (lead guitar, vocals),
Dennis Saucier (rhythm guitar, vocals), and Rob Haeuser (bass guitar)

Austin, Texas, 1974
For reasons too numerous to mention, I joined the Air Force, ending up at Bergstrom AFB in Austin, Texas. In September 1973 I drove from New Orleans to Austin in a rattle-trap Ford stationwagon, stuffed with all my worldly possessions, convinced I had died in my sleep and was headed straight to musician's hell. After all, Texas was home to country-western and an army of Willie Nelson wannabes. A few miles outside of town I picked up a local radio station, and much to my surprise, they were play ing Purple Haze! Perhaps I had misjudged Austin.

Over the years my musical ambitions evolved, and I abandoned the standard model for starting a band: Find some players, work up a few top-40 hit sets, and go play the clubs. Instead, I focused entirely on all-original material in the genre of bands like Yes and Genesis. The only problem was finding musicians that shared my vision.

Pior to the original White Light, I had played briefly with my brother Rusty, a drummer. We were polar opposites, but we shared a common musical heritage that transcended personalities. Sometime after I left NOLA, he and Mike Hobren crossed paths in a band called Shephard's Bush. Mike and Rusty left that band after a few months. The other guitarist, Randy Jackson, who was really into Led Zeppelin, morphed Shephard's Bush into a band named Zebra. They moved to New York, and in 1983 released a self-titled album with the hit "Who's Behind The Door?".

Although out of touch for some time, I contacted Mike and Rusty, and discovered that they were both available. I described the Austin music scene, how it was open to progressive music, and my plan to resurrect White Light as an all-original jazz-fusion band.

I was living in a small farmhouse southeast of Austin, and suggested that they join me. They agreed, and moved to Austin in September, 1974.

We clicked immediately, so I recorded a series of extended jam sessions to explore our concepts. We jammed for hours on end, periodically hitting on themes that formed the core of our new sound. The spontaneity was often magical, as if we could read each other's minds. It's a good thing I had a tape recorder, because the ideas were coming fast.

We decided that the resurrected White Light would be a 3-piece band, with Mike on guitars and vocals, me on Bass guitar and keyboards, and Rusty on percussion and flute. Even as a 3-piece, our sound was full, often intricate, and sometimes convinced people that we had more than 3 members.

We rehearsed for months before considering live performances. Our music was multi-textured, with a complexity that rivaled the progressive bands of the day. The audience didn't know the difference between our live "skeleton" versions versus the full pieces, but we sure did. All along, the idea was to bypass the local scene if at all possible. Not to say that we wouldn't play any local gigs; the experience is invaluable, and it's just plain fun. But my theory was that if the music was good enough, the need to develop a large local following to impress record companies could possibly be sidestepped. Circumstances almost proved that to be true.

Fun Times: In search of a home, a hasty retreat; Uphama Blechschmidt, and a real redneck encounter

The Farmhouse
You know, it was too bad the roof leaked and there was no running water. My nearest neighbor was half a mile away. I had gotten used to the cows scratching themselves against the corner of the house just outside my bedroom window. The rattlesnakes generally avoided the indoors. But the water tank was springing new leaks almost daily, and the jam-a-stick-in-the-hole trick couldn't stop a 2- incher for long. I seriously considered using 2-by-4's, but good wood was scarce, and when the tank went, so did we.

The Garfield Trailer
Garfield didn't last long, but not because we were freaking out the neighbors. Quite the opposite. Really early one Sunday morning we woke to blood-curdling screams that were decidedly non-human. The family in the house behind us had tied down a huge hog, and was preparing it for a feast. I'll leave the gory details to your imagination. We immediately started looking for another place.

A hasty retreat: The Liberty Hill Trailers
Desperate to find a secluded place to practice, we found ourselves deep in the juniper trees outside Liberty Hill, Texas. We had read an ad describing what what seemed to be the perfect setup. A huge mobil home for only $150 a month, with a 20-by-20 addition that would make a great studio. Out in the middle of nowhere, we thought we had found paradise. Nobody to bother; nobody to complain about our loud jams.

We moved in almost immediately with just a $150 security deposit and the first month's rent. It should've been obvious that they were making a hasty retreat, jamming stuff into their pickup while the guy installed another motor. But we were blinded by our apparent good luck, and they seemed nice enough.

Paradise lasted exactly 2 weeks. The repo-man arrived early Saturday morning, ready to haul off our dreams. The driver had no idea anyone was still occupying the trailer, but he was a reasonable guy, and agreed to give us a few days to evacuate. Fortunately, another trailer was up for rent barely a hundred yards down the road. Providence seemed to be smiling on us, albeit with a grin that was missing a few teeth. This trailer was a much smaller place, and the guy renting it to us lived in a frame house maybe 50 yards behind it. Far enough not to be bothered, we hoped. We were seriously wrong.

Uphama 'round here?
After getting ripped off for $300, we felt justified in what we did next. In their haste to exit, they had overlooked the propane tank, which carried a $150 deposit. Oddly, the propane company didn't care that we weren't the original depositors, and gladly refunded us the cash. Finally, justice had been served!

We never met Uphama Blechschmidt. She lived in California, and all we knew was that she was the aunt of the woman who rented us the trailer. Apparently Ms. Blechschmidt had tried to claim the deposit, but much to her surprise, we beat her to it. Rather than acknowledge that her niece had knowingly rented us a trailer earmarked for repossession, which was theft, she filed charges against us with the County Sheriff's Department, claiming that we "stole" her propane tank.

The irony was that the arresting sheriffs were apologetic to us for doing so. They fully understood that the charges were without merit, but their duty was to bring us in, which they did. We spent one night in jail.

Weeks later we got a call from the Sheriff's Department. The Grand Jury had laughed at the sheer stupidity of the case and dropped all charges against us. In the end, Uphama's niece got away with stealing from us, Uphama got away with filing false theft charges against us, but somehow we spent a memorable night at the "Iron Bars Hotel". Ironically, that was the day Rusty and I were supposed to be starting our new jobs with the Texas Welfare Department. Oops!

A real Redneck encounter
Chigger Whitt... 'nuff said.

The Gigs: The One Knite, Sunshine's Party, Liberty Lunch, Castle Creek, etc., but first and foremost, a Pop Festival!

The Pop Festival
White Light's first Austin gig was a Pop Festival called the "Joshua Ives Festival of Love", where we shared the stage with a number of big-name acts and local bands. Named for Joshua Ives (apparently nobody knew who he was), his Festival of Love featured a diverse mix, including Mike Bloomfield, Alvin Crow, David LaFlamme, Link Wray, and White Light.

... to be continued ...

Almost making it
What do White Light, Johnny Winter, and Janice Joplin have in common? Bill Josey!
... to be continued ...

White Light recorded at Blue Hole Sounds from December, 1975 to February 8, 1976, and was produced and engineered by Bill Josey. After Bill's death, many of his tapes, including White Light's, sat in Bill's station wagon for months, and seriously suffered from exposure to extreme temperatures and humidity. At some point the tapes were moved to a closet, where they sat for 30 years before being rediscovered by Bill's son, Jack. Jack rolled the dice and dubbed the old White Light tape, which literally peeled like a crayola on the tape heads. Jack was very gracious in providing us with a dub of the tape. Unfortunately, the tape's exposure to the weather and its age took a severe toll on the sound quality. Both channels were seriously degraded, but the right channel was so severely damaged that it was more hiss than music, and was less than half the volume of the left side. After Rob's extensive remastering, the sound quality was restored to a point where you can at least get an idea of what the original Master Tape sounded like. The following excerpts are from the the remastered digital transfer of that old Master Tape.

Side One	Fields
	Mere Drop in the Pool
	Solar Offering
	Oceans
	Spirit On The Wing
Side Two	Pacemaker
	Song for Leo
	Stargazer

Early concept for the White Light album

Bill Josey's proposal to White Light, November 3, 1975

Bill Josey at Blue Hole Sounds, 1976

Rob Haeuser at Blue Hole Sounds, 1976

Rusty Haeuser at Blue Hole Sounds, 1976

Mike Hobren at Blue Hole Sounds, 1976

Rob Haeuser at Blue Hole Sounds, 1976

Rob Haeuser at Liberty Lunch, 1976

Mike Hobren at Liberty Lunch, 1976

White Light at Castle Creek, 1976

Unfortunately, Bill passed away in September 1976, just a few months after recording White Light.
Read more about Bill Josey on the site dedicated to his memory by his sons Jack and Bill, Jr.,
and how White Light became Bill's last grand experiment.

After more than 40 years, the White Light work tape Bill Josey recorded in 1976
was finally released as a vinyl album and CD, by Shadoks Music ( Thomas Hartlage) in Germany.

The Vinyl album and CD with bonus tracks is available here

Rob Haeuser and Mike Hobren interview by Klemen Breznikar on Psychedelic Baby

Liner Notes for the White Light album

Rob Haeuser, founding member of White Light, is now...

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