When filmmaker Austin Sayre first discovered the music of the late, largely unknown Texas folk and country singer-songwriter Steven Fromholz, he immediately wanted to know more.
Temple-born Fromholz’s 1969 debut album Here to There caught Sayre’s attention. Fromholz, who was named the 2007 Poet Laureate of Texas, recorded the release with musical partner Dan McCrimmon under the duo’s name, Frummox.
“I just naturally gravitated towards Steven and learned there was much more to him than his music,” Sayre told the Current during an interview earlier this year. “I kept finding these big could-have-been, should-have-been moments. I respected the decisions he made in his career and how he pursued what truly made him happy.”
In the documentary The Man with the Big Hat — alsothe name of one of Fromholz’s most popular songs — Austin-based Sayre celebrates the singer-songwriter’s life and legacy through rare archival material and personal reflections from artists including Lyle Lovett. The film explores how Fromholz’s music, storytelling and independent Texas spirit continue to inspire generations.
During our interview, Sayre talked about discovering Fromholz’s forgotten archives, the songwriter’s resilience after a stroke and the legacy he left behind.
The Man with the Big Hat will screen as the closing night film of the San Antonio Film Festival (SAFILM) on Sunday, July 26, at the Radius Center.
Music legends such as Willie Nelson and Lyle Lovett admired Steven Fromholz, but he never achieved mainstream recognition. Did your own definition of success change while making this documentary?
Yeah. You know, money has never been a driving factor for me. I didn’t make this movie to make money. I made it because I felt deeply connected to Steven and the way he lived his life. I saw the way he impacted the people whose lives he came into. As time goes on, you see that he became very at peace with all his decisions. His character evolved over time.
When you initially began researching Steven, was there a moment where you realized there’s something here that would make a compelling film?
Yeah, one of the very first things that drew me to him was learning his very first album was supposed to be produced by Michael Nesmith of The Monkees. I heard Steven’s album was made and then shelved two days before it was supposed to come out. So, I searched and searched for the original master tapes. They had to exist somewhere. So, I was able to locate them. It’s been a big goal of mine to have that album made.
Did you get in touch with Michael before he passed away in 2021?
I talked to him, and he was set to do an interview [for the film], but then he got sick and passed away during COVID. So, that part of [Steven’s] story didn’t make it into the film. But that was really the first thing that drew me in. I was like, “Do these master tapes exist?” and “Can I find them?”
So, the album was never officially released?
No, they had a test pressing. That’s another funny story. The test pressing found its way back to a high school classmate of Steve’s who I found online. It got sold overseas to someone in the United Kingdom, and then Steven’s classmate from high school bought it. Since then, he put it in the archives at Rice University.
How did the newly discovered archives or anything else that you ran across during production change the direction of the film?
I got a mysterious phone call in October 2019 saying that Steven’s sister had passed away and that his archives were going to be taken to [the University of North Texas]. So, I made it a point to go up there. I found all these handwritten lyrics by Steven. Steven’s former wife Janey lives in Austin, and the family had been on board [for the documentary] since day one. She had collected things and stowed them away perfectly in boxes; all these handwritten letters between Steven and her while he was touring on the road for 30 years. Everything was dated. So, with both of those archives, I thought, “How do I bring the audience inside of Steven’s head through these letters?” So, the heart of the film is Steven and Janey’s intimate relationship.
Another powerful aspect of Steven’s story is the stroke that erased his memory. How did you approach that respectfully?
I’ve lost grandparents due to stroke, so I felt like I knew how to be sensitive to that. I came across this archival piece from Steven’s first performance after his stroke. When I watched it, my jaw hit the floor because he walks you through the entire process of where he was [when he had the stroke], how he recouped, and explains why he’s continuing to play on. He was doing it for his fans. It’s this really stark moment because Steve was always very gregarious. So, when we see him on stage [after his stroke], he’s this very fragile person who’s moving slowly. You respect him for what he’s doing and why he’s continuing to push on. He loves his fans so much. It’s a powerful, poignant moment.
How did Steven’s Texas roots shape his songwriting and the story you tell in this film?
He was born in Temple, but he grew up around Denton and Coppell, Texas, so most of his songs are written from experience. In [“Train Ride”] he talks about running down to the depot with his brother to watch the train go by. Lyle Lovett, who is in the film, talks about that song and how important it is. It still has a very universal message that translates everywhere — from a small town in Indiana to a small town in Missouri.
After spending so much time with Steven’s story, what do you hope audiences take away about his legacy?
Steven never compromised. His attitude was always what kept him going. He was always looking forward; always looking for a way to add to his repertoire. His positive outlook and his approach to life is what I want people to take away. He was always full of such joy and love.
If you had been able to make this film before Steven’s death in 2014, and sat down with him, what would be the first question you would have asked him?
He’s frequently been in my dreams, off and on, since I started this project. And any time I try to have a conversation with him, the dream fades away. I guess I’d ask him, “How does one look forward and live life without regret or wondering about the could-have-beens or should-have-beens?” The way he just kept pressing on is something I struggle with myself every day. It’s like, “How do you not let yesterday get in the way of today?”
The Man with the Big Hat
$6.49, Sunday, July 26, 3 p.m., Radius Center, 106 Auditorium Cir #120, (210) 227-8111, safilm.com.
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