I’ll always be thankful for public television and the people and places that its cameras and producers explore and showcase to make our day.
Although I am not an organized devotee—most often when I am surfing about, something catches my eye and I am glorious rewarded with a documentary or a rerun that graphically stimulates my emotions.
On a recent weekend I connected with a show about “The Highwaymen,” which elevated my spirits to such a level, I had trouble going to sleep.
I replayed the songs of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson in my head, but I was so fulfilled that I slept late the next morning which I hardly ever do.
Each of these Super Stars of country music are favorites of this farm boy who grew up loving the music of Eddy Arnold, Roy Acuff, and Hank Williams. I have never strayed from the sound of those titans and countless other talented performers including my old UGA classmate Whisperin’ Bill Anderson.
Country music has changed and so have the stars. The flashback on WABE with the “Highwaymen” was a reminder that this foursome struggled to make it in the business. They experienced the hardest of times, but persevered and survived.
Years later, I get the biggest lift out of spending time at the Grand Ole Opry when in Nashville. Usually that has been when Georgia has played Vanderbilt in football.
Whisperin’ Bill has often gotten me backstage where one can enjoy a close up, arm’s length proximity with the performers. Whisperin’ Bill is very popular with his fellow artists since he usually entertains them with his latest dash of humor.
For years we have been sharing joke and punch lines over the phone. Many times after delivering a good one, he would say. “I’ve got to call my buddy Jimmy Dean with that one.” While I have eaten Jimmy Dean’s sausage, I never met him but always felt that I knew him because of sharing stores with him via Bill Anderson.
The recent airing of the performance of the “Highwaymen” left me so full of emotional contentment that I said a prayer of thanks for my good fortune. All of them lived rambunctious lives. Only Willie is left. Waylon Jennings died at 64, Johnny Cash at 71 and Kris Kristofferson recently at 88. Willie, who has been with us 91 years, seems to be imbued with Methuselah-like genes for which all country and western aficionados are grateful.
In the mid-eighties one of my free-lance gigs was providing a public relations assist for Doug Sanders with his senior golf tournament pro-am which was played at the Woodlands County Club in Houston.
It was one of the early senior tour events to gain annual traction in a city that was keen on golf. Doug was well connected with the Hollywood social scene. Major celebrities showed up for his lively event including Clint Eastwood.
On the eve of the golf outing, Willie Nelson, favored Doug with an appearance for the sponsors, tournament committee members, and friends of the Cedartown native.
It was a blast. I sat on an equipment trunk and enjoyed conversation with Willie when there were breaks. In addition to Doug Sanders, we had another mutual friend, the former head coach of the Texas Longhorns, Darrell Royal. Further, Willie’s neighbor when he lived in Evergreen, Colorado, was a close friend who was a teammate on my high school football team.
I learned something that evening in Houston. It was a private party with an audience of about 300, but Willie treated it like it was an evening at Madison Square Garden. Nobody enjoys pickin’ and singin’ like Willie—whether it is two or 200,000.
The thing that came through on the PBS rerun was that the Highwaymen couldn’t get enough of performing for passionate fans of country music. They seemed to be overwhelmed with disappointment when they exited the stage.