Billy Bob Harris, Dallas Dealmaker

Billy Bob Harris: The Original Texas Connector

to Dallas Deal-Maker — A Life of Speed, Serendipity, and Second Chances From Panhandle Dust 

Billy Bob Harris contemplating. Courtesy Channel 4 and Billy Bob Harris

In the world of Texas networking, few names carry the legendary weight of Billy Bob Harris. Born in the tiny Panhandle town of Grover, he parlayed small-town grit, athletic talent, and an uncanny ability to bring people together into a remarkable Dallas life — stockbroker, radio personality, club owner, friend to Cowboys legends and music icons, and, above all, a master facilitator who reduces the “six degrees of separation” to two. Paul Heckmann of Memories Incorporated sat down with him for a wide-ranging conversation about roots, reinvention, and the relationships that define a life well-lived.

Paul Heckmann: You were born in Amarillo and raised in Grover — a town of about 800 people. What was life like there?

Billy Bob Harris: We had church, school, and fabulous people. That’s about it. No stoplight — just a stop sign. The next big town was Spearman, the county seat, and they had a stop sign too. My dad was an only child, raised in the Dust Bowl days. He ran a Shamrock filling station by day and farmed at night. Those were tough times — he borrowed money for seed and went seven years without harvesting a crop. Then the big snows came in ’41 and ’42, and in two years he paid off $40,000. That was real money back then.

We moved out to the country when I was in third or fourth grade. Closest neighbors were a mile and a half away. I was the first kid off the school bus and the last one on. Got a whipping at school? Got another one when I got home. My mother’s name was Willie, and the bus driver would holler out the window, “Willie, got another one today!”

PH: You mentioned a “drug problem” from a young age.

BBH: Yeah — my parents drugged me to Sunday school, church, MYF, prayer meetings… every time the doors opened. I’m very thankful for that now.

PH: You got the name Billy Bob honestly.

BBH: My people on both sides — Harrises named Will, Brookses named Robert. So Billy Bob it was. In a graduating class of 22, we all started together in first grade. Then a gasoline plant brought in more families and just about doubled the class. FFA was big. We played football, basketball, ran track, or rodeoed. No baseball or volleyball — not enough bodies.

I was fast. As a 115-pound freshman, Coach Chapman put me on the mile relay. He’d take me home after practice: “You’ll go hard or go home.” I made the team and ran against some great athletes from Stinnett, including Freddie Thompson in the 440. That wasn’t always pleasant.

PH: You had scholarship offers from SMU and North Texas.

BBH: A bunch of state champions from bigger schools were heading to North Texas, including Richard Menchaca, who had the best half-mile time in the nation as a freshman. I wanted to run with those guys. I never went to SMU — visited, but North Texas felt right. We had an incredible freshman track team. Richard is in the North Texas Hall of Fame and deserved it.

PH: After college you went back to Grover and climbed on a tractor.

BBH: My family were farmers. I didn’t want to farm, but I didn’t want to tell my daddy that either. I lasted four or five months. An older friend, Rod Barkley, my hero, said, “You don’t own a farm — go to the big city and be a stockbroker.” I thought he meant Amarillo. He said, “No, Dallas.”

I talked to my dad out in the field. Wind blowing, dust flying. He asked who I knew in Dallas. I mentioned a church friend, Don Norman, at First National Bank. Daddy said if that’s what I wanted, I should do it — and if it didn’t work, I could always come home. I got on that two-lane blacktop and never looked back.

Billy Bob in his younger days. Courtesy Billy Bob Harris

PH: You landed at A.G. Edwards, went to New York for training, and passed the test.

BBH: First job of my life. I was in the lower 10% in production after a couple years. Then I met Ron Chapman at a party. KVIL was a little fledgling station in Highland Park. He asked me to do the stock market report — no pay, but it would be good for me. I started the next morning. No speech training, no nothing. First day he called and said (colorfully) I needed to loosen up. That afternoon I tried a more casual style: “That puppy went south…” Did that for 18 years.

PH: You roomed with Donnie Anderson, the great Stinnett athlete who became an All-American at Texas Tech and played in the first two Super Bowls.

BBH: Donnie was three years behind me and the best of a lot of great athletes from that area. We lived together on Hershey, then moved to a bigger place on Rollins. I even introduced him to the woman he married. Don Meredith gave me a great plug on Monday Night Football once after Donnie had a big run: “Back in Dallas, he’s known as Billy Bob Harris’ roommate.” My phone lit up for days.

PH: That’s when you started meeting more of the Cowboys — through Craig Morton.

BBH: Craig was the first overall pick, big, handsome, from California. I met him when we both showed up for the same date. The girl opened the door, saw both of us, and Craig said, “Let’s all go together.” He had a Mark III Lincoln with an 8-track — California Dreamin’ was playing. Eyes wide open for this kid from Grover. Craig and I became great friends. I introduced him to his wife. Through him I met Pete Gent and a lot of the guys.

PH: You and Craig opened a club on Bachman Lake — Wellington’s.

BBH: A disco. Had great early success when the Pro Bowl was in Dallas — all the players came because of Craig. I was still brokering by day and working the club at night. Unfortunately, there was an incident where four guys abducted two Texas Tech students from our parking lot. That was the beginning of the end. We got out after a couple years.

PH: Around that time you had a turning point.

BBH: I’d been going to Lovers Lane Methodist since I got to Dallas. Respected Pastor Don Benton. Never preached at me, but the Holy Spirit was tapping my shoulder. I needed to slow down. I still attend — now with Stan Copeland. Beautiful church with the biggest stained-glass window in America. They do tremendous outreach, especially for the homeless.

PH: You’ve stayed close to music legends too — like Kenny Rogers.

BBH: Met him at Soul City on Greenville when he was with the First Edition. Club closed at midnight, so I invited the band back to my place. That started a friendship that lasted decades. I traveled the world with him — Africa, Switzerland where Lady Antebellum opened for him. Kenny once called me a “facilitator… a business concierge” who knows the value of relationships and how to connect what people need with what others can deliver. I’ll take that.

PH: You also introduced Kim Harmon to Rudy Gatlin.

BBH: Yes — they married, had kids, and are no longer together, but we’re all still friends. 

PH: I keep asking Kim to marry me. She keeps turning me down. 

BBH: Maybe we can broker something.

PH: Today you’re still doing what you do best — business development and connecting people.

BBH: For the last 25 years I’ve been with a small private equity group — the only one who can’t write the big check. I eat what I kill. I’m not a consultant telling people how to run companies. If they need something, I go find the solution and put the pieces together. My board — Bruce Ledbetter, John Pickett, Chris Bancroft — has been incredible. Gene Street once said I reduce six degrees of separation to two. I just try to help people get where they want to go.

PH: Sorry but we are running out of time here. Any final thoughts looking back?

BBH: I’ve been blessed with wonderful people in my life — from Grover to Dallas, the track, the Cowboys, the music world, and the church. I love what I do. If I can help you or connect you with someone, just say the word.

We lost Billy Bob on March 9th, 2025