My Stories Page
My History
My autobiography book "WILLIE" and another book "GIRL FROM STONE LAKE" which was co-written with Bertha Johnson, are sold world-wide on amazon.com and all major outlets. If you would like information on the book "Willie" click here . You will find information on the book "Girl From Stone Lake" if you click here.
Here is what someone else has written about me:
Willie Kell’s world has been a roller coaster from the very beginning. His daddy started out as an old time horse trader, later became and old time travelling medicine man. His mother was a fine artistic, God fearing lady, she died when Willie was just six years old. “When Mother died it changed our world forever. Daddy being a handsome man in his early forties soon took up with a much younger woman that left my five brothers and sisters and I scattered like autumn leaves in the wind”.
Willie went to live with his paternal grandma out on the farm along with his two older brothers. Maw died when he was just ten years old.
Willie left home when he was fourteen years old, working at a family owned hotel as bellhop then desk clerk.
After a stint in the army he returned to work as desk clerk at the hotel and that’s where he met a good looking blond girl just seventeen years old , Irene also worked at the hotel. After a short time going together they were married not long after his 20th birthday.
They soon were on the road selling his daddy’s home cooked medicine. The marriage was rather stormy at times but they managed to stay together long enough to raise 3 children, buy a farm and some harness horses that they raced.
It was about that time that Willie became rather famous as a horse race announcer at the tracks, on TV and radio. Their oldest child Billy by now just entering his teens was getting to play his acoustic guitar and singing at local events along with Patti his younger sister and Jim his younger brother. As time went on they became quite famous in music, as THE CREAMCHEEZE-GOODTIME BAND. Billy wrote some nice songs and it wasn’t very long until they were recording their songs and appearing on National TV.
It was after the marriage break-up with Irene that Willie went back to writing poetry and songs and soon found himself in a new career. It wasn’t long until he had records out, songs published in Nashville and written a couple of books also published in The U.S.
Growing up Willie was influenced by the songs of Stephen Foster, Vernon Dalhart, Jimmy Rogers and the blind gospel songwriter Fanny Crosby. The Ink Spots, Mills Brothers and Bing Crosby were also a part of his musical up- bringing. Later Hank Williams, and still later writers like Kris Kristofferson. “I guess we never really stop learning. But the best teacher is the personal experiences that life hands you”
Willie Kell has had a lot of experiences some wonderful times and also he has also had to face tragic times not only as a child but through his life His life experiences good and bad are enough to write a book about.
When Billy died of cancer, when his marriage to the mother of his children ended in divorce were sad times that can bring you down and test your ability to survive.
These days life and love are very good for the old troubadour, although he doesn’t travel with his music very much these days he does enjoy singing his songs at churches and among friends and recording from the large catalogue of songs he has written.
Here is what someone else has written about me:
Willie Kell’s world has been a roller coaster from the very beginning. His daddy started out as an old time horse trader, later became and old time travelling medicine man. His mother was a fine artistic, God fearing lady, she died when Willie was just six years old. “When Mother died it changed our world forever. Daddy being a handsome man in his early forties soon took up with a much younger woman that left my five brothers and sisters and I scattered like autumn leaves in the wind”.
Willie went to live with his paternal grandma out on the farm along with his two older brothers. Maw died when he was just ten years old.
Willie left home when he was fourteen years old, working at a family owned hotel as bellhop then desk clerk.
After a stint in the army he returned to work as desk clerk at the hotel and that’s where he met a good looking blond girl just seventeen years old , Irene also worked at the hotel. After a short time going together they were married not long after his 20th birthday.
They soon were on the road selling his daddy’s home cooked medicine. The marriage was rather stormy at times but they managed to stay together long enough to raise 3 children, buy a farm and some harness horses that they raced.
It was about that time that Willie became rather famous as a horse race announcer at the tracks, on TV and radio. Their oldest child Billy by now just entering his teens was getting to play his acoustic guitar and singing at local events along with Patti his younger sister and Jim his younger brother. As time went on they became quite famous in music, as THE CREAMCHEEZE-GOODTIME BAND. Billy wrote some nice songs and it wasn’t very long until they were recording their songs and appearing on National TV.
It was after the marriage break-up with Irene that Willie went back to writing poetry and songs and soon found himself in a new career. It wasn’t long until he had records out, songs published in Nashville and written a couple of books also published in The U.S.
Growing up Willie was influenced by the songs of Stephen Foster, Vernon Dalhart, Jimmy Rogers and the blind gospel songwriter Fanny Crosby. The Ink Spots, Mills Brothers and Bing Crosby were also a part of his musical up- bringing. Later Hank Williams, and still later writers like Kris Kristofferson. “I guess we never really stop learning. But the best teacher is the personal experiences that life hands you”
Willie Kell has had a lot of experiences some wonderful times and also he has also had to face tragic times not only as a child but through his life His life experiences good and bad are enough to write a book about.
When Billy died of cancer, when his marriage to the mother of his children ended in divorce were sad times that can bring you down and test your ability to survive.
These days life and love are very good for the old troubadour, although he doesn’t travel with his music very much these days he does enjoy singing his songs at churches and among friends and recording from the large catalogue of songs he has written.
Excerpt from the biography "Willie" by Willie Kell
Book Forty-one: The Serpent of Florida
The second winter we lived in Innerkip, we decided to take our travel trailer and go to Englewood, Florida, about thirty miles south of Sarasota on the Gulf Coast. Toots, my older sister, and her husband lived there in the winter and liked it. I had a Volare wagon and we had hauled the trailer back and forth between Kincardine and Innerkip in the spring and fall for a few years. However, this was more than a hundred-mile trip; we were going to head out over the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with the old wagon and that trailer. We took off in March and had a wonderful trip. We parked the trailer about a city block from the Gulf of Mexico in a quaint little trailer park. Our trailer was beside the beach road. We stayed six weeks and loved it. I did some singing in Florida and met wonderful people and had interesting experiences.
Often we walked along the beautiful sandy beach and gathered shells and prehistoric shark's teeth that had been in that great body of water for more than a million years. This was a relaxing way to get some sun and exercise. Someone had told us that we could find even more interesting shells at Middle Beach, a couple of miles up the road. We decided to get up the next morning a little earlier than usual and drive up there and gather some of those shells. It turned out to be quite an experience. Although as a rule we can't wait to have our breakfast in the morning, that morning we didn't take time to have breakfast, not even a coffee.
We were rather excited as we jumped into the wagon, rolled the windows down, and headed up the beautiful beach road. It was a hot, sultry morning in April, the breeze off the Gulf of Mexico felt so good as it blew in the windows while we drove along the winding road. There is a place along that road where the treetops cover the road, and it is like driving through a tunnel. We always watched for snakes; what if one fell out of the trees into the open car window? There are a lot of poisonous snakes in Florida. We had heard of some scary happenings with those slimy, slinky serpents. There are several different species, like water moccasins, poisonous coral snakes, cottonmouths and a few kinds of rattlesnakes. A couple of our friends had close encounters with rattlers on their front lawns around there.
Well, that hot sultry April morning as we drove slowly along the beach road, our mind was on gathering some pretty shells, not on snakes. However, just as we got past the overhanging trees, we saw it-a huge snake in the middle of the road, likely a rattler. It was curled up with its head reaching out, as if to bite anyone that came near. I knew just what to do-run over it, kill it! Isabelle screamed, "Don't run over it!" She put her head down on the seat of the car so she wouldn't see the thing; she is terrified of snakes. "Don't worry," I told her.
Well, when I looked into the rearview mirror, the thing was still there on the road, madder than hell. I turned around and tried to run over it again, Isabelle still hollering, "Don't run over it!" The darn snake was still on the road, looking rather annoyed. "I'll get him this time."
Well, this time when I looked in the mirror, the snake had vanished. Where did it go? Didn't seem like it had got off the road. A lady on the roadside with her little dog said she thought it had jumped up under the car as I passed over it. "Oh, no," Isabelle said, "that snake will crawl up into the car!" Maybe it would come up through where the brakes are.
We rolled up the windows tight and headed back towards our trailer, or somewhere, forgetting about the shells we started out to gather. We really didn't know what to do or where to go; we didn't stop at the trailer park, we just kept driving. We would go to the fire hall in Englewood, a few miles away on the mainland; those brave firemen would know what to do with a vicious rattlesnake. We were scared; if a bug or even a fly had landed on the back of our neck, we would surely die of fright, thinking it was the snake. When we got to the liftbridge that spans the inland waterway, sure enough, the bridge was up and there was a long line of cars waiting. We sat there in that old wagon with the windows rolled up tight, sweating profusely in the sweltering heat of that south Florida April morning. There was no air conditioner in the wagon. We were afraid to look around; we might look right into the slimy, slinky eyes of that serpent.
At last the lift-bridge descended and we were moving again. We drove straight to the fire station on the main street. I honked the horn and one of the firemen came out, looking rather bewildered. I rolled the window down about an inch and asked him to come over to the car. When at last he did, I told him about the snake. He jumped back from the car and explained that they had never been trained in dealing with snakes, and that we should go to the sheriff's office. Well, we got lost trying to find the sheriff, so we drove around asking people where to find the sheriff and getting strange reactions from everybody. I guess it looked funny, me trying to yell, asking about the sheriff with the car window almost closed.
We finally found the place, and when we drove into the Charlotte County Sheriff's parking lot, I honked the horn and a deputy came running out with a strange look on his face, his hat pulled down on his forehead and his trigger-happy hand not far from his loaded pistol. He asked rather sternly what he could do for us. Isabelle and me hunched down in the old station wagon must have looked a little weird. I rolled down the window an inch or so and told him about the snake. He looked at us like we were a little crazy, or perhaps an older version of Bonnie and Clyde. I don't know what he would have thought if he'd asked to see my driver's license or the ownership of the wagon, cause we hadn't bothered to bring a wallet, money, or anything with us when we went for the shells.
Oh, it seemed hours since we had left the trailer so happily to go to Middle Beach. We were hot, hungry, and haggled as we sat in the old wagon while that deputy sheriff got down on his hands and knees there in the parking lot, looking for that silly rattlesnake curled up and waiting to strike out at somebody. He looked under the hood as well, but didn't see the snake. He said he didn't think there ever was a snake under the car, and we got the feeling that he took us for some kind of dumb northerners who wouldn't know a rattler if one bit us. He sent us to a local garage, where they put the car on a hoist and checked it all over, but they didn't find the snake and neither did we. By this time we were getting pretty brave. Thank God they didn't charge us for looking for the snake, 'cause we had no money. They did make smartass remarks and treated us as aliens, or Yankees at best.
We finally got back to the trailer, washed up, and ate breakfast. The next morning, I overheard two wise men say that the best way to deal with snakes is to leave them alone.
* copyright 2003 by Willie Kell. All rights reserved. No duplication or reproduction, by any means, of the above book excerpt is allowed except by written permission from the author.
The second winter we lived in Innerkip, we decided to take our travel trailer and go to Englewood, Florida, about thirty miles south of Sarasota on the Gulf Coast. Toots, my older sister, and her husband lived there in the winter and liked it. I had a Volare wagon and we had hauled the trailer back and forth between Kincardine and Innerkip in the spring and fall for a few years. However, this was more than a hundred-mile trip; we were going to head out over the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with the old wagon and that trailer. We took off in March and had a wonderful trip. We parked the trailer about a city block from the Gulf of Mexico in a quaint little trailer park. Our trailer was beside the beach road. We stayed six weeks and loved it. I did some singing in Florida and met wonderful people and had interesting experiences.
Often we walked along the beautiful sandy beach and gathered shells and prehistoric shark's teeth that had been in that great body of water for more than a million years. This was a relaxing way to get some sun and exercise. Someone had told us that we could find even more interesting shells at Middle Beach, a couple of miles up the road. We decided to get up the next morning a little earlier than usual and drive up there and gather some of those shells. It turned out to be quite an experience. Although as a rule we can't wait to have our breakfast in the morning, that morning we didn't take time to have breakfast, not even a coffee.
We were rather excited as we jumped into the wagon, rolled the windows down, and headed up the beautiful beach road. It was a hot, sultry morning in April, the breeze off the Gulf of Mexico felt so good as it blew in the windows while we drove along the winding road. There is a place along that road where the treetops cover the road, and it is like driving through a tunnel. We always watched for snakes; what if one fell out of the trees into the open car window? There are a lot of poisonous snakes in Florida. We had heard of some scary happenings with those slimy, slinky serpents. There are several different species, like water moccasins, poisonous coral snakes, cottonmouths and a few kinds of rattlesnakes. A couple of our friends had close encounters with rattlers on their front lawns around there.
Well, that hot sultry April morning as we drove slowly along the beach road, our mind was on gathering some pretty shells, not on snakes. However, just as we got past the overhanging trees, we saw it-a huge snake in the middle of the road, likely a rattler. It was curled up with its head reaching out, as if to bite anyone that came near. I knew just what to do-run over it, kill it! Isabelle screamed, "Don't run over it!" She put her head down on the seat of the car so she wouldn't see the thing; she is terrified of snakes. "Don't worry," I told her.
Well, when I looked into the rearview mirror, the thing was still there on the road, madder than hell. I turned around and tried to run over it again, Isabelle still hollering, "Don't run over it!" The darn snake was still on the road, looking rather annoyed. "I'll get him this time."
Well, this time when I looked in the mirror, the snake had vanished. Where did it go? Didn't seem like it had got off the road. A lady on the roadside with her little dog said she thought it had jumped up under the car as I passed over it. "Oh, no," Isabelle said, "that snake will crawl up into the car!" Maybe it would come up through where the brakes are.
We rolled up the windows tight and headed back towards our trailer, or somewhere, forgetting about the shells we started out to gather. We really didn't know what to do or where to go; we didn't stop at the trailer park, we just kept driving. We would go to the fire hall in Englewood, a few miles away on the mainland; those brave firemen would know what to do with a vicious rattlesnake. We were scared; if a bug or even a fly had landed on the back of our neck, we would surely die of fright, thinking it was the snake. When we got to the liftbridge that spans the inland waterway, sure enough, the bridge was up and there was a long line of cars waiting. We sat there in that old wagon with the windows rolled up tight, sweating profusely in the sweltering heat of that south Florida April morning. There was no air conditioner in the wagon. We were afraid to look around; we might look right into the slimy, slinky eyes of that serpent.
At last the lift-bridge descended and we were moving again. We drove straight to the fire station on the main street. I honked the horn and one of the firemen came out, looking rather bewildered. I rolled the window down about an inch and asked him to come over to the car. When at last he did, I told him about the snake. He jumped back from the car and explained that they had never been trained in dealing with snakes, and that we should go to the sheriff's office. Well, we got lost trying to find the sheriff, so we drove around asking people where to find the sheriff and getting strange reactions from everybody. I guess it looked funny, me trying to yell, asking about the sheriff with the car window almost closed.
We finally found the place, and when we drove into the Charlotte County Sheriff's parking lot, I honked the horn and a deputy came running out with a strange look on his face, his hat pulled down on his forehead and his trigger-happy hand not far from his loaded pistol. He asked rather sternly what he could do for us. Isabelle and me hunched down in the old station wagon must have looked a little weird. I rolled down the window an inch or so and told him about the snake. He looked at us like we were a little crazy, or perhaps an older version of Bonnie and Clyde. I don't know what he would have thought if he'd asked to see my driver's license or the ownership of the wagon, cause we hadn't bothered to bring a wallet, money, or anything with us when we went for the shells.
Oh, it seemed hours since we had left the trailer so happily to go to Middle Beach. We were hot, hungry, and haggled as we sat in the old wagon while that deputy sheriff got down on his hands and knees there in the parking lot, looking for that silly rattlesnake curled up and waiting to strike out at somebody. He looked under the hood as well, but didn't see the snake. He said he didn't think there ever was a snake under the car, and we got the feeling that he took us for some kind of dumb northerners who wouldn't know a rattler if one bit us. He sent us to a local garage, where they put the car on a hoist and checked it all over, but they didn't find the snake and neither did we. By this time we were getting pretty brave. Thank God they didn't charge us for looking for the snake, 'cause we had no money. They did make smartass remarks and treated us as aliens, or Yankees at best.
We finally got back to the trailer, washed up, and ate breakfast. The next morning, I overheard two wise men say that the best way to deal with snakes is to leave them alone.
* copyright 2003 by Willie Kell. All rights reserved. No duplication or reproduction, by any means, of the above book excerpt is allowed except by written permission from the author.