THE INTERVIEW EXCERPTED HERE took place in October 2002 under bizarre circumstances. interviewee, cancer in his pancreas, was assumed near death by himself, by his doctors, and by archivists in Fayetteville who dispatched interviewer to his digs in Canada. Ronnie Hawkins had been a prominent and flamboyant figure for a very long time. In on rock and roll's turbulent rockabilly beginnings in 1950s and, as '60s dawned, first boss of combo would become famous as Band, he was still living large in century's final decade, gracing Bill Clinton's 1993 inaugural with his august and raunchy presence. It was important, before final bell, to record his impressions. Things turned out differently, however-humbling, once again and not for last time, all who claim to know shape of tomorrow. It's 2006 now, May 7 as this is written, more than three years have passed, and just yesterday, cancer mysteriously, miraculously gone, man was holding forth at a Hawkins family reunion on old family homeplace outside St. Paul in Madison County, Arkansas. Enthroned on a wooden bench under a hillside pavilion next to his cousin and fellow musician Dale Hawkins, lovely Ozark Mountains looming preternaturally green in a light rain, he spun out once again his fabulous, ribald tale, cracking up men and charming women. And it was there, beneath water's gentle patter, essential element in rock and roll fame suddenly flashed out again. He s over seventy now, but Hawkins still has a firm hold on what he knew before he was twenty-that one thing above all is expected of leader of a rock and roll band: incarnation of Dionysos, master of revels. Country songwriter Harlan Howard is credited with genre s most succinct characterization-country music is three chords and Then Bono added red guitar in U2's version of Bob Dylan's Along Watchtower: I've got is a red guitar, three chords, and truth. But for Hawkins, as for Sonny Burgess, Billy Lee Riley, Jerry Lee Lewis, and other rockabilly wild men, red guitar (or piano) was often mostly a prop, and truth was nowhere to be seen, a notion of little interest. Hawkins called it that monkey act, did backflips on stage, and moonwalked decades before Michael Jackson. Women charged stage, so many when he first hired a teenaged Robbie Robertson, Hawkins told him he couldn't pay much but promised he would get more girls than Frank Sinatra. As decades passed, outrages shifted their focus, even as underlying persona remained unchanged. Where he once violated behavioral conventions, running whiskey and carousing with underage daughters of community pillars (they said it was an orgy but I called it eight or ten people in love ), he turned in later years to flaunting of conversational standards. In 2005, at an elegant party celebrating his honorary doctorate at Laurentian University in Ontario, Hawkins announced his arrival in stentorian voice: The Doctor is in. All ladies line up on left for physicals. To this day, he bills himself in e-mails as The Housewives' Companion and The Working Girls' Favorite. As an afterthought, way down epithet list, he adds Advisor to Presidents and puts a Dr. in front of sign-off thanks to honorary degree. And there on hillside he s still at it, youthful Dionysos altered by years to aged satyr Silenus, but still laughing, still making ladies blush, ever and always Mr. Dynamo, Rompin' Ronnie, face of rock and roll, life of party Nero would be ashamed to attend. This excerpt centers on Hawkins' beginnings-from his birth in rural Madison County and move in childhood to the big metropolis of Fayettevitle, where he went to school and formed his first bands, to later travels in pursuit of musical goals, first to Memphis and Helena and then, in 1958, to the promised land of Canada, where his career really took off. …