Photography by Victoria Gomez
At the top of the The Balcony Club lounge steps, just before entering, maybe three times a week, you’ll find a certain doorman. He’s over 6 feet tall and is usually sporting his long dark brown hair in a low ponytail. His name is C.T. Davis. Before you ask, yes, the C.T. stands for something. But you’ll probably never find out what for. He’s chosen to keep that to himself, for a little mystery.
Davis has met former Dallas Cowboys players and other “cool people’’ as he’s manned the door. But for him, that isn’t the fun part. There’s a certain hour in the night when the barbacks take over his doorman duties and Davis makes his way to the stage. If you’re a regular, you’ve seen it before — the fun part.
Davis has always been at home on a stage. Since the age of 3, Davis has been singing.
“Yeah, I came out of the womb, you know, singing and screaming,” he says.
He was an only child, born in a Pentecostal household deep in East Brewton, Alabama. His town had a population of less than 4,000 people. His father was a preacher and his mother was the church pianist.
The joyful noise he was making at such a young age painted a stark contrast to the life he lived behind closed doors. His father was abusive. He had been tossed around, locked in closets and run over with a car — all before the age of 15.
“I was making good grades in school. I did my chores. I made my bed,” he reflects. “I didn’t understand why my father didn’t love me.”
At a young age, he became aware that he was a sort of puppet for his family. They used his gift as if it were their own.
“I sang in front of general conferences, maybe two, three, four or 5,000 people strong,” Davis says.
Eventually, things became even more violent at home and at the age of 15, Davis had to flee from his family after being stabbed by his father. He left and went to stay with his grandmother in Birmingham, Alabama.
Two years later, his father passed away. Everyone was grieving, but he couldn’t help but feel “thankful” he wouldn’t get hurt anymore.
Shortly after, his mother passed away from kidney failure and then, the grandmother that took him in passed on too.
When he reflects on the dynamic he had with his parents, his tone is calm. He chooses to move on with grace.
“I was trying to keep my head above water,” he says.
Davis threw himself into his education. He studied at the University of Alabama and Holland Rim Christian Academy in Tennessee.
Although he had several interests, it was always crystal clear that Davis was going to end up exactly where he started: on a stage.
“I can express myself (on stage) and try to convey a message to the audience,” Davis says. “I like people to feel what I feel.”
He moved to Texas and began working to establish a name for himself in the DFW area.
Davis rattles off a long resume of places he’s performed. One of them was Nate’s Seafood & Steakhouse with Jackie Don Loe.
He became friends with Loe, who affectionately calls Davis his “little brother.” After meeting him about nine years ago, Loe has been able to watch his friend grow as a performer.
“Some singers know how to sing but they don’t know how to entertain and some entertainers know how to entertain but can’t sing,” Loe says. “What C.T. has learned to do is put both of those things together.”
Davis had always found a home in music but now, he was using his gift and building a new kind of family.
“I wanted to earn my way in and because I’ve earned my way in, I’m one of the most talked about guys in Dallas,” Davis says.
If you know about live blues and jazz in DFW, then you know Davis’ name is quick to pop up in the conversation. Today, he has his own residency, recently celebrating two years at The Forum Pub in Richardson and has shared the stage with internationally known artists with Grammys under their belt, including Bubba Hernandez, James Hinkle and Tommy Katona.
Davis has “a great friendship” with the owner of The Balcony Club, David Luckey, who will occasionally play the drums with Davis’ band whenever they perform there.
“He and I both grew up in church,” Davis says. “He and I were in the same circles at the same time and never met each other.”
When Davis was looking for supplemental income, Luckey hired him to work the door for the lounge. They felt he was trustworthy and personable enough for the role. That was just over three years ago.
After all the cash is counted, all the credit cards are accounted for and his job is done, they ask “C.T. You want to come and sit in and sing a couple of songs with us?”
The answer is always yes.
Davis often addresses the crowd before singing by saying to “put your religion and your politics deep in your back pocket” and “let all of that go.”
“Music is a great unification process,” he says. “I don’t care where you come from, what age you are, how much money you have. What’s important to me is that you enjoy the product of the music I’m providing.”
