The Night Johnny Cash Came to Town

A Heartwarming "Manson on the Mainland" Story

I KNEW Johnny Cash, the Man in Black, the legend of country and musics of other types—-rock ’n roll, rockabilly, folk, comedy, gospel, spoken word, hair metal—-from the time he hosted Saturday Night Live in 1982. To my fuzzy recollection, he held his own comedically alongside the likes of Eddie Murphy, Joe Piscopo, and Brian Doyle-Murray.

Johnny Cash pulls a fabulous costume switcheroo with Saturday Night Live musical guest Elton John, 1982.

During one introduction, Mr. Cash switched costumes with the episode’s musical guest, Elton John (why the heck did they need a musical guest that week?). I may have seen him on The Muppet Show around that time too; he and Rowlf the Dog performed a lovely duet of “Dirty Old Egg-Sucking Dog,” a Jack Clement song I’d later rediscover listening to my dad’s copy of At Folsom Prison.

I grew up in Florence, Alabama, one of the four “Quad Cities” of northwest Alabama. The others, connected by the O’Neal Bridge that crossed the Tennessee River, were Muscle Shoals (“The Hit Recording Capital of America,” a phrase I’m pretty sure my father coined and never got proper credit for), Tuscumbia (birthplace of Helen Keller), and Sheffield.

In the early Eighties, Sheffield was mostly known for its brand new Holiday Inn. My dad was general manager of the top-rated radio station in the Quad Cities, WQLT-FM. Q-107. The “Q.” Dad worked for Sam Phillips of Sun Records fame, and he was putting together a “roast” at the hotel. Among those on the dais that night… Johnny Cash.

I was a freshman or sophomore at the now-defunct Henry A. Bradshaw High School, and my knowledge of country music was limited to whatever I overheard during our summer vacations at the now-defunct Opryland theme park in Nashville. But I knew Johnny Cash from television and wanted to walk up and say hello when I spotted him.

I got about six feet before the evening’s master of ceremonies, Memphis disc jockey and alleged Presley pal George Klein called me out. “Mr. Cash is eating his supper. No autographs.” Forty years later, I don’t know why somebody couldn’t have just walked up politely and told me to sit down, instead of having “G.K.” announce it over the P.A. system.

Other than that, it was a fun evening. My dad was one of the roasters; he made lots of jokes about Sam Phillips’ reckless drinking and still had his job the next day. I illustrated an ad for the show program (which I no longer have) and won an “Addy” award (which I no longer have) for my fine work.

My siblings and I left before the event ended (school night), so we missed Johnny Cash’s singalong with the unknown-to-me-at-the-time John Prine. But I have a DVD of the entire Sam Phillips Celebrity Roast on DVD, and you are welcome to come over and watch it any time you like.