“ They tipped their mint juleps at us, tipped ‘em up,’ he says, and smiles the faintest bit to prove how little it matters to him after so much time.”
“‘If you know you can do a thing,’ he says, ‘then you ain’t never surprised.’”
“I approached him with great anticipation—and one reservation, as to getting shot…He remains willing to take a swing at a man who offends him and suffer the prospect that some drunk redneck half his age will not care he is living history and knock him slap out.”
“He sees him vault on his young legs to the lid of the piano as if some outside force just threw him there…”
“But it is not boasting, as Jerry Lee says, if you really done it.”
“In 1803, the Louisiana Purchase gave the mud to a new nation, and Thomas Jefferson sent naturalist William Dunbar to see what all the dying was for.”
“The twentieth century brought the levees, so tall a man had to walk uphill to drown.”
“‘Didn’t I hear once that you…’ But he cuts me off.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I probably did.’”
“In a less desperate place, a more prosperous time, he might have been anything, maybe even been successful, but in the bad years he was what he had to be.”
“Not long after, Lee Calhoun dug in his pocket, and there was a church.”
“He was a craggy old man with steel-colored eyes who did not carry a gun, did not need to, because Pa had made his living in Ferriday in the swamps, trapping things that bit.”
“It was clear that their boy was going places. It was all a matter of direction.”
“He showed up for the beginning of the seventh grade, only to find out he was not in it. He decided to take a seat anyway. He had already figured out that a person, if they were special enough, if they had something uncommon to offer, could live by a set of rules separate from those set down for dull, regular people. The way to accomplish this was to make it too much effort for people to try to bend him to their regular-people rules.”
“Driver’s licenses, like most other forms of government interference, had nothing to do with him, and he had already discovered that many people were foolish enough to leave keys in their cars, so they could be borrowed.”
“As for girls, ‘I could take ‘em or leave ‘em,” he says. ‘Take ‘em, mostly.”
“For the next few years, the clubs would nurture Jerry Lee’s music, as much as any place can when the owner walks around with a big .44 sagging his slacks and women routinely have their wigs slapped off their heads by other women.”
“The President told Jerry Lee that he had wantonly solicited an impure response from the entire student body of the college by playing reckless and prurient music, and the president and deans gave him the left foot of fellowship and told him not to let the door hit him in his behind on the way out. Jerry Lee, who never lacked gall, told the deans and the president that he would not accept their expulsion.
‘I’ll just go home for two weeks, but I’m comin’ back,’ he said. He had no intention of coming back, not even if they were handing out free doughnuts and pony rides, but he wanted them to watch the gate every day to see if he was.”
“He again tried manual labor, only to rediscover that it required manual labor.”
“For Mr. Paul Whitehead was blind, and in the darkness where he lived, they were all pretty girls.”
“He never hit it big himself but will never forget seeing the silver-haired man and the golden-haired one together onstage at the birth of a music, like a man watching a comet. Who gets to say they saw something like that?”
“He was a witness, night by night, as the boy’s talent tumbled into alignment…It was like waiting for a storm to build, but slower, over months, then years, but he heard it coming.”
“…and in that boy’s piano he heard it all and none of it. The boy was a species unto himself, and he was still learning.”
“Jerry Lee saw no reason to labor in a long life of that, on a treadmill of hoping, dreaming, wanting, and not cut right to the dream.”
“But even as a boy he knew, if you were ever going to be hit by lightning, you had to stand under a tree.”
“But they got Paul, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, his benign face unchanging, the accordion around his neck and the trumpet at his lips and the fiddle at his right hand, and no one would know, as he sipped his milk, if it was a good day or the deepest, darkest night of his soul.”
“The hard shell…had not shattered, but it was beginning to vibrate, and if you listened close enough you could hear it crack.”
“And the crowd ate it up like peach ice cream.”
“‘You gonna regret you did that,’ he hollered at her, but she didn’t.”
“But his love for music was a real, consuming passion, and the kind he loved the most did not even really exist yet, at least not exactly as he dreamed it.”
“On it, he could do anything, perform any antic he wanted, but if you impugned his stage, you insulted him down where it mattered, and he was coming for you every time.”
“His daddy shook his hand and held it.
‘I never was the man you are. I only wanted to be,’ he told his son.”
“The problem was this newcomer, this blond-haired kid, who did not know his place and had no governor on his mouth, and in such close proximity, they could not tune him out and could not run away and could not kill him, either, though they considered it.”
“Then Elvis left for home, where Colonel Tom Parker, his manager, presented him with a suit made of gold lamé, but Elvis kept dropping to his knees onstage and wearing off the gold, which was expensive, so Parker told him not to do that no more.”
“He did not need a song to make him inappropriate. Jerry Lee had always been inappropriate, and being a little bit famous did not change it; you can paint a barn white a thousand times, but that won’t make it a house. It wasn’t just what words he sang; it was HOW. Anybody can sing about sinning, but when he sang, it sounded like he knew what he was talking about and would show you if he had a minute.”
“…how could they fail to ban this new ‘Shakin’ song by a young white singer who didn’t just HINT that the listeners ought to shake something, but told them to—told them to shake ‘it’ in particular, and while he did not say exactly what ‘it’ was, it would take a very sheltered youth minister not to guess it in three or four tries.”
“It would be about the only compromise he would ever really make, for a lifetime, and most people did not even notice it. He banged the keys so hard they seemed to jump back up to meet his fingers, and his hair bounced like some kind of live animal on his head, and at the end, when he kicked that stool back, it went flying all the way across the stage to land near Steve Allen, who picked it up and flung it back across the stage at him.”
“When the boy was done, he just stood up and hitched up his pants and looked around as if to say, ‘Well, there it is,’ and the studio audience thundered and thundered inside the small studio. ‘Not a whole bunch of people, a small stage. They didn’t even know me…But they saw me, and they liked me. That’s what you call opening the door, and I FLEW.”
“He looked, Jerry Lee says now, like he was dreaming standing up. Like a lot of people who had all they thought they would ever want, he had to travel back to a time when he didn’t have it, didn’t have any of it, to be happy.”
“But now the people who ran the music had turned on him, and even some of the people he played it for has turned on him, and here he was in a honky-tonk in Iowa playing a knee-high stage but by God playing still, fighting back, coming back, playing some big rooms for good money when he could, but if you had glimpsed him here through the dirty window, you would have thought it was a long way from Memphis.”
“Jerry Lee thought that should have been obvious. Even people who didn’t like him knew who the hell he was.”
“Bad luck literally flung itself at him.”
“…one of them was strong as iron inside, the other like steel outside. Mamie’s faith has never weakened, but Elmo’s had never really been strong enough to suit her, and as he drank and caroused into middle age she finally told him to go on about his sorriness without her, though she loved him anyway and always would. They separated in 1961 and later divorced, and the one thing that Jerry Lee depended on more than anything in this world had come apart beneath his feet.”
“He could not stand being left here with his own doubts about his choices and ambition and the burning need to succeed that had sent him across the country again and again to reclaim what had been his only for a little while.”
“Sam made him a star, yes, but a shooting one, and failed to do all he could, Jerry Lee believes, to hold him up in the sky where he belonged.”
“As the arms of obscurity snatched at him, he kept recording, looking for a hit, and kept touring, taking gigs that would have killed his pride if he hadn’t so loved the simple act of playing.”
“Lovelace, who would play behind him almost half a century, will always remember the nights in those mean, beginning years, and the tiny dressing rooms before the show. Jerry Lee always hung back until the last minute, til the band members began to wonder if he would show. ‘The band would go get him. “It’s time, Jerry Lee,” we’d tell him,’ said Lovelace. And Jerry Lee would answer:
‘Okay, Killers. Y’all hang in there with me.’”
“Then he took his seat at the piano, the crowd still going crippled-bat crazy, and went back to singing about whose barn, what barn, my barn.”
“As Hank Williams had sung it to them more than two decades before, Jerry Lee reminded them that a broken heart was common as dirt, and could even be kind of pretty, neighbors, if the melody was sweet and the words all rhymed.”
“He had conquered the world again, only to see what was most precious to him threatened by something he could not buy off or change.”
“The preacher preached again, and then, with those lovely voices, her kin sang her favorite hymns. They call it ‘singing them into heaven,’ but his mama didn’t need no help.”
“More than that, he seemed to not give one damn what the music establishment—or anyone, for that matter—thought of him. And like Jerry Lee, he had made it work for him.”
“As Jerry Lee stood there in the wings, waiting, he shook hands and nodded and was polite, but he had not forgotten. He remembered the last time he had stood here, invisible unless he was in someone’s way.”
“‘I’m gonna tell you one thing about that lady,’ Jerry Lee said, as she walked off to thunderous applause. ‘If she can’t get it, you can forget it, because it couldn’t be got.’”
“The car was supposed to be a fine American driving machine, but he never could find a Corvette that would hold the road in those days. ‘Wrecked a dozen of ‘em,’ he says. ‘I was coming home one time—might have been drinking—and I run one up under the front porch of a house. A little girl come out, her eyes real big, and I don’t know why…I just said, ‘Top of the mornin’ to you,’ and she run back inside. And this woman stuck her head out the door and said, ‘Oh Lord, it’s Jerry Lee Lewis.’”
“…but like most lawsuits involving Jerry Lee, he just ignored it till people got tired of bothering him.”
“‘That is ridiculous,’ Jerry Lee says, and patently so; if he had planned to ram through the gates of Graceland and shoot Elvis, he would have done a much better job than this.”
“It seemed almost impossible that this one man—the same man who reeled through his life with so little regard for caution or consequence—could create something so purely beautiful. If you ask him how that can be, he merely looks at you with satisfaction and wait for you to figure it out.”
“‘I heard that,’ shouted Jerry Lee.
Chuck pointed at Jerry Lee to take it.
And he sang:
I looked at my watch and it was three twenty-five
I said, ‘Come on, Chuck, are you dead or alive?’”
“Well, it just don’t work that way. You got to [feel] it, boy. Be what you are. If you feel it, you can jump up on that piano, kick the stool back, beat it with a shoe. But you got to [feel] it. The music has to be there. It has to be there, [first.]”
“You can’t hang on to a ball of fire. That time is over. But it [happened.]”
“He would have liked to have sent this Elvis himself. He wouldn’t have been scared of him. But the apparition was gone with the clouds, and with it his answer.
Or maybe not.
If it was an angel, he has the answer now.”
“I had to know. Who, besides the great Kenny Lovelace, would Jerry Lee Lewis want to play his music with in the Great Beyond, assuming he ever actually embraces mortality and goes?”
“Still, Jerry Lee would like to see them all gathered ‘round his piano, with Kenny playing lead guitar and some red-hot fiddle, singing their songs, all their songs, on a never-dying rotation: ‘Sheltering Palms’ and ‘You Win Again’ and ‘Waitin’ on a Train’ and ‘Shakin’’—wouldn’t ‘Shakin’’ just make Jolson’s eyes bug out? And in the audience would be his people, all his people, everyone he had ever lost.”
“When I was done with this book, I had one line left in my notes that made no sense. It did not fit anything around it, and so I could not use the usual clues to make sense of it. It just read:
[he never straightened me out]
The thing is, in his story, it could have meant anything, at any moment, in any situation. It could have been anyone. I had long given up on it when it finally hit me. It was Jerry Lee, talking about the piano teacher, the one who slapped him and swore to break him of his boogie-woogie. It had come up, out of the clear blue, in the middle of another thought, a whole other conversation, just a thing on his mind, slicing straight through. But now I know it was perhaps the most important of lines, because, good Lord, what if he had?”