The Dallas Butter Queen

On Enthusiasm, Invention & Naming Your Own Energy

In another place, another time, specifically America in the 70s, girls and young women were attempting to invent a far more exciting version of their regular selves by giving themselves a new name and enthusiastically diving in to their scene of choice.

Of late I’ve been listening to KCRW’s Lost Notes podcast, specifically the latest season Groupies:Women of the Sunset Strip from the Pill to Punk, written and hosted by Dylan Tupper Rupert and written and executive produced by Jessica Hopper (subscribe to

Jessica’s Substack

here), featuring reflections on and interviews with self proclaimed groupies of the era, whose faces and sometimes names are indelibly etched into our consciousness from iconic rock photographs but whose collective stories have never really been told - although there are some amazing memoirs, most notably Pamela des Barres ‘I’m With The Band’.

There’s a lot to love in this series, most especially the down to earth, insightful, funny women telling their own stories, but something that really grabs me is the tales of their dedication to becoming who they wanted to be, and not what society expected them to be.

Screenshot from Star Magazine (the whole archive kindly scanned and uploaded by Ryan Richardson here - what an amazing feat!)

The names they created for themselves conjured up a mystique, a glamor, an idea; Lori Lightning, Sable Starr, Miss Pamela - in the same way as band names have always done. When Pamela Des Barres recounts how Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page called her ‘Miss Pamela’ for the first time rather than plain ol’ Pam as she had always been hitherto known, she felt lifted up and excited by her own possibilities.

Pamela Des Barres and the GTOs, Los Angeles, 1969. Photograph: Ed Caraeff

‘Those who know know and those who don’t, wish they did’ Barbara Sheltman Cope, aka The Dallas Butter Queen,

A determined young music loving Texan woman, Barbara Sheltman Cope, created her own legend by titling herself The Dallas Butter Queen, and according to the Dallas News, making a name for herself by turning up as ‘ a shadow in satin who followed rock stars into dressing rooms where she would show them how she'd earned her nickname’. She was eventually name checked in song by The Rolling Stones (‘Down to New Orleans with the Dixie Dean, cross to Dallas, Texas with the Butter Queen’), Three Man Army (‘If your name is Barbara, why do they call you butter queen’), spoken about on stage by Led Zeppelin and Joe Cocker in his concert film Mad Dogs And Englishmen, written about in David Cassidy’s memoir, and interviewed on Oprah, where she demurred from revealing how she earned her royal title, simply stating ‘Those who know, know, and those who don’t, wish they did’.

The Dallas Butter Queen & Joe Cocker on tour, from Barbara’s Facebook page

On her Facebook page, she reflected that by the time she was 22, she'd seen 52 American cities and 11 countries, all by being ‘a friend to rock stars’ - she says she slept with around 2000 of them before ‘retiring’ to live a quiet life, much loved and respected by friends and family, until her tragic death in a house fire in 2018.

There’s an article about her on the Led Zeppelin fansite, and I love this response I read in the comments, written by Cynthia at 2:04am in 2018:

I was sitting in the audience of a concert in Dallas when I saw what was obviously a very confident free spirit sort of skip past in front of the stage sprinkling her magic fairy dust and sharing in the sheer joy of the rock experience. She was mesmerizing. In complete awe of her charisma, I asked people around me who she was. “That’s the Butter Queen,” I was told. “The greatest rock groupie around.” I never forgot that moment. It was a beautiful part of my rock concert experience. She was a regular Dallas girl who achieved greatness in rock iconography. I am so sad that she never wrote her autobiography. I am sure it would have been filled with the outrageous memories that only a rock groupie queen would have of some of the greatest musicians of all time. Rock on, Butter Queen. Your particular brand of magic is secure in the memory of people like me who can only dream of being s person like you!

Another commenter, John M Gasperik, wrote ‘I was living on the streets, Hanging at Lee Park during the day & Mother Blues & Gerties at night.She pulled up in her Carman Gea and said “I’m the Butter Queen,Do you know who I am?” I said “Hell Yeah, I seen Mad-Dogs!” She said “Get in”. I stayed with her when she lived on Morningside for about a month, but I was a wanderer and the road was calling. Thanks B.C. You made the world a more interesting place. P.S. Tell Jimi “High” for me’ at 4:55am in July 2021.

Deciding to make the world a more interesting place, for yourself and/or others, has to be respected as a valid, colourful way to live, regardless of society’s dismissive, sanctimonious judgements or moral concerns about other people’s sexual choices (read

Jenny Valentish

’s latest missive on this here).

Though there are malleable distinctions between ‘fangirls’ and ‘groupies’, this oft quoted tweet “Replace the word ‘fangirl’ with ‘expert’ and see what happens” from Jessica Hopper in 2015 has always resonated with me in terms of changing perspective and giving kudos to those that hold up the infrastructure that rock stardom is built upon.

Obviously there’s always going to be plenty of disturbing stories and dodgy ethics in any reflections on rockstars and groupies (please read The Rockstar Must Die by

Queen Kwong

for more on this), but there’s also so much to be celebrated in these tales of self invention and girls and women seeking fun and adventure, often through defining - or branding - themselves with a memorable name, and that’s the energy I am wanting to shine a light on today.

I plan on heading into the new year with the determined energy of someone that wants to create a life for themself filled with music, good times and adventure, and I’ll be reflecting on possible new titles to bestow upon myself while I’m at it.

Cheers, my dears x