Our Arklahoma Heritage: Three guitars, keyboard player and a drummer who "telegraphed" their way to fame in 1967

Once upon a dusty prairie in the heart of Durant, where the wind whispers secrets through the tall grass and the occasional tumbleweed rolls like a forgotten guitar pick, five college kids at Southeastern Oklahoma State University decided to crank up the volume on their small-town dreams.

It was 1962, and these lads, originally dubbing themselves The Mutineers, were no strangers to rebellion. They traded textbooks for tambourines, lectures for lyrics, and soon enough, they morphed into The Five Americans, a garage rock crew ready to send shockwaves across the airwaves.

Little did they know, their biggest zap would come in the form of a quirky telegram tune that turned them into America's favorite "one-hit wonders,( though, shh, don't tell them that;) they had a string of chart-climbers, but "Western Union" was the beep that echoed eternally.

Picture this: Mike Rabon, the Hugo-born guitar wizard with a riff as sharp as a cactus spine, strumming away in a dorm room. Beside him, John Durrill tickling the keys like a prairie dog popping out of its burrow. Norman Ezell on rhythm guitar, adding that harmonious twang; Jim Grant thumping the bass like the heartbeat of the Sooner State; and Jimmy Wright pounding drums with the fury of an Oklahoma thunderstorm.

These boys weren't just bandmates—they were brothers forged in the fire of fraternity gigs and late-night jam sessions under the starry Oklahoma sky.

Durant, a speck on the map near the Texas border, became their launchpad, but Dallas called with promises of record deals and neon lights. Off they went, signing with Abnak Records, where their sound, a bubbly blend of garage grit, psych-pop flair, and irresistible hooks, bubbled up the charts.

Ah, but the magic truly sparked with "Western Union" in 1967. Inspired by Mike's accidental Morse code mimicry on guitar (dit-dit-dit-dah, anyone?), the song was a frantic love letter via telegram: "Send a message to my baby, tell her that I need her now!"

It zipped to No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100, selling over a million copies and turning radio dials nationwide into a symphony of beeps. Whimsical? You bet...imagine cowboys in bell-bottoms dispatching urgent heart emojis via wire. But they weren't one-trick ponies; "I

'See the Light" hit No. 26, "Zip Code" cracked the Top 40, and tracks like "Sound of Love" kept the party popping. Critics called them bubblegum with bite, a Oklahoma export sweeter than pecan pie but edgier than a rodeo bull.

Alas, like a telegram lost in the mail, the band fizzled by 1969 amid shifting tunes and internal static. But oh, the ties to Oklahoma tugged like a lasso! These "one-hit wonders" never fully cut the cord from their Sooner roots.

Mike Rabon

Mike Rabon, ever the hometown hero, moseyed back to Hugo, swapping spotlights for school administration and teaching gigs. He lived out his days there, passing in 2022 at 78, and found his final rest in Mount Olivet Cemetery in Hugo buried right in Oklahoma soilL,

where his riffs might still echo through the gravestones.

.Norman Ezell, the rhythm rascal born in Alabama but schooled in Oklahoma's Southeastern U, found faith after the fame, becoming a minister, teacher, and author. He settled in Lodi, California, where he battled cancer until 2010 at 68, buried in Cherokee Memorial Park...not in Oklahoma, but his bachelor's in history from the state lingered like a fond melody.

Jim Grant, another Hugo native with bass lines deeper than the Red River, stuck around Dallas post-band, dabbling in art until a heart attack claimed him in 2004 at 61. His burial spot remains a mystery, like an unsolved chord progression, but his Oklahoma birthright ties him eternally to the troupe's origin story.

Joohn Durrill

John Durrill, the keyboard player and sole survivor as of this whimsical winter of 2025, ventured west to California, joining The Ventures and penning hits like Cher's "Dark Lady."

 But his Oklahoma origins? Unshakable...he credits those Durant days for his musical mojo, now residing in Westlake Village but forever a prairie pianist at heart

And Jimmy Wright, the Wyoming-born drummer who thundered into the lineup, made Durant his lifelong groove. He freelanced in photography and missionary work, planting churches across southeastern Oklahoma like musical seeds. He slipped away in 2012 at 64 in nearby Denison, Texas, but was laid to rest in Rose Hill Cemetery in Calera, just a stone's throw from Durant, ensuring his beats resonate in home turf forever.

in this tale of telegraph triumphs and Oklahoma roote, The Five Americans prove that even "one-hit wonders" can leave a legacy as enduring as Oklahoma's endless horizons. Two of them (Mike and Jimmy) returned to the earth's embrace right there in the state that birthed their band, while the others carried its spirit afar.

Their story? A whimsical reminder that from small-town beeps can come big-time dreams. If you're ever in Durant, crank up "Western Union" and listen for the ghosts of garage rock giggling in the wind.