What about that name?

A lot of folks ask us, “How’d ya come up with that name, Big’uns?”
It’s a long story that goes way back to the days when Sterling and I played with the GroanUps in Little Rock. I’ll not get into the whole story, but there was this fictional character, whose spirit was frequently invoked named Emerson Bigguns.
Every band has one guy who kind of pushes the group through the birth canal. Any three or four good musicians can get together and create a respectable musical ensemble. But in order to survive, you have to have that person who coordinates the rehearsal space, schedules the rehearsals and most importantly, books that first paying gig. Sterling was that guy in our band. He convinced our friend Suzie Stephens (more on her later) to let us camp our gear in the back room of her store and push the noise ordinance envelope after business hours. He booked the first gig.
When it came time to decide on a name, Sterling wanted to call the band Emerson Bigguns. I argued that would be a hard sell to the mother of prospective brides for wedding gigs. But he did persist, and here we are with this curious moniker, compromised to the shortened version.
Is it fraught with suggestiveness and double entendre? Well, no…Yes…Maybe. I suppose it’s all in your mind. We did have one very respectable organization in Springdale who came to us last spring and said, “We really like your band, but do you think you could change your name to play our big social event?”
Of course, being staunch adherents to artistic principle, we said, “You betcha.” In fact, that’s what we called the band: You Betcha. We softened up the repertoire a bit, agreed to play “Proud Mary,” put on nice clothes and gave them exactly what they were looking for. Are we musical mercenaries? Well, no…Yes…Maybe. But it was a really good version of “Proud Mary.”
We recently played an event our keyboard player, Carl couldn’t make. Not wanting to compromise the integrity of the Big’uns name with a group that couldn’t do the whole repertoire, Sterling suggested the alias we used, Late for Dinner (as in “Call us what you want, but don’t call us late for dinner”).
So, if you come out and hear us, want to book us, but your mother-in-law to-be recoils at the suggestion of Big’uns, just bear in mind, you can call us what you want. Will we play your gig with another name? You Betcha.
By the way, we do have a few choice holiday dates open still. But they're going fast, so call soon.