A Beautiful Song: A Musical Soul Story

by Michael Cantwell

  During those seven years at home with the girls, I attended all their school functions as well as making sure they were well cared for in any way I could find. I attended the local church many Sundays with my in-laws and the girls. At times I would go back to counting the tiles on the window. I seriously considered buying the church a new one just to have something new to look at, but I never did. Why could I not see the good things I had and accept them rather than constantly dwell on my losses. I was so convinced I was destined to be a guitar player and song writer all my life and now I was sitting most days alone in a home based studio writing sound tracks for movies I didn’t even want to own in my collection. I was also listening to stories about how cheerleading coaches are so unfair. Was this really my destiny? Could God really be wasting my talents this badly? What was I going to do once the girls were old enough for college? Was I now destined to sit alone in North Carolina? Why was I still being punished? It’s all I could think about when I was not attempting to write music.

  I had been a very successful song writer for more than one band in my career. Even the last Overture album that everyone fought me on made it to number one on the charts. It was our second most successful release. I had proven my talent for many years now. You would think my band mates would have fallen all over themselves to thank me and want to do more, but I barely heard from any of them over the years. Sure, Duke would show up once a year and beat me in a few games of chess. He would update me all about how much better producing records is over touring. Debby would bring her kids down for a week in the summer. Linda and I would talk on the phone every few months but nothing really important would come from it all.

  I had to read in trade magazines how Billy was in Los Angeles working as a studio drummer and who knows about Jack. To me he was always just Billy’s shadow and never could compare with Junior. Sasha would show up every other year with a bag full of eye liners and clothes I really would not let my girls wear in public. I would be clicking television channels late at night and see her on some shopping network selling her lines of fashion. I gave these people very good lives and never once did any of them thank me except for Duke long ago. Was I now this bitter of a man? I had reached the pinnacle of my industry and now I was playing dad in some back woods town in North Carolina. I wanted more from music again. It was time to come out of hibernation but to what ends? What was I going to do? And besides if I was successful again would God just take it from me?

  We had a family dinner with my daughters and in-laws during late summer of 2001 and I informed them it was time for me to get back to making music other than low rent soundtracks. I told them I thought about reforming The Overture but after a few discussions with Duke and Sasha it fell apart. Debby had taken a part time job as a nurse so that she was not sitting at home all day going stir crazy. Linda was open to the idea but we still had the recordings from our trio sitting on the shelf from years ago. I let them all know I had decided to fly to New York to meet with Carl and Mr. Altos to discuss my options. I had not been to New York in several years. I wanted to see my old apartment. Carl had hired a real estate agent to lease it out when I told him I would be in North Carolina for a few years. I wanted to see the condition of it since it was again vacant. I was told it needed some new carpet and paint with maybe some new appliances before anyone would lease it again. I figured I would stay there for a few days and see what really needed to be done. So after a few tears from my younger daughter, I knew the time was right to start my career moving forward again. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being a father but I also loved being Dylan James and he was ready to be reborn.

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  Chapter 25

  I waited until after Labor Day in early September before heading off to New York. The girls were back in school and my in-laws were more than happy to take over again. They were growing a bit older now but my daughters were both such well adjusted kids a few days away was not going to be an issue for anyone. I was not sure what direction I would go in after meeting with Carl and Mr. Altos, but I was ready to return to recording in some fashion. I drove up stopping along the way to see my mom and dad in New Jersey over night before heading off to Manhattan the next morning. I had planned on seeing Debby as well but Mr. Altos had to catch a flight, so I had to be in New York for a lunch meeting.

  We met at a nice restaurant and later returned to the second floor of the north tower in the World Trade Center where Carl’s office was located. We talked about reforming The Overture but I informed them that there was little appetite for that. Mr. Altos had a band that he had just signed to the label and was looking for a guitar player and song writer; unfortunately they were all based in California. I talked to him again about releasing the Evolution recordings. He still was not hot on the idea. I was upset because he never really listened to the tapes. There was some very strong material on those tapes. He thought they were now “too stale.” I told him he was dead wrong but he was the man in charge. I talked about doing a solo project bringing in guest performers on each song. He warmed to that idea. We did agree in principle to using a couple of the old Overture recordings not used from the last two releases and packaging those with another “Greatest Hits” release. I was not thrilled with the idea but Mr. Altos agreed to release my solo record if I agreed to allow the “Hits” package to be released with the older material. I hated to take advantage of my fans that way. There is always a segment of the market that has to have every song recorded. Companies know how to take advantage of that fact. I didn’t like it, but I was someone at his mercy trying to jump start my career. We had a nice lunch and productive meeting in Carl’s office. I left a feeling of progress in my mind.

  Carl updated me with my finances. I had a wiz bang kid named George McAdams who looked over most of my investments. I talked with him about setting up a foundation in Elise’s name. I was not sure yet how or in what form it would take shape and who would benefit, but I wanted him to start kicking around the idea. I was considering whatever the proceeds were from my next project; I wanted to use it for seed money for the foundation. I was sure I could get some former band members back together for a one or two night show as well for some extra money. Carl and George both thought it was a good idea and would give it some thought.

  I stayed a few days at my skyline apartment. I had forgotten how beautiful the view was overlooking downtown Manhattan. The real estate people were correct. It needed some upgrades, so I delayed my trip home for a couple of days to meet with a contractor for an estimate to paint the place, refinish the floors and upgrade the kitchen. I was still not ready to sell the unit. I did enjoy staying there in the past and with a tenant, it was paying for itself. I was willing to now treat it as an investment rather than my home.

  During the past several years, I had become used to getting up early to read the paper and watch the news. I was usually up no later than seven am, mostly to get the girls moving for school, but even during the summer it had become my routine. I had been eating much better and was in very good health considering all my body had been put through with the accident and drugs. So even in New York, I was up early. I would stroll down to a local coffee shop for the paper and some morning eggs. I was expecting the contractor at the apartment about nine a.m., so I hustled back to be on time. I was sitting at my table overlooking the skyline waiting for him to arrive and finishing off the sports section. It was a beautiful sunny Tuesday morning.

  Suddenly a huge plume of smoke appeared near the World Trade Center. Sirens started to go off everywhere. I sat watching the entire scene trying to figure out what was going on. At first I thought maybe it was a big fire. I really didn’t know what to think. Then to my amazement I watched an airplane fly directly into the other tower not already on fire. My first reaction was to wonder if Carl was ok since I was just in that same building the day before.

  My next thought was how could an airplane of that size be so far off course? I think I sat watching this all transpire for about thi
rty minutes before deciding that maybe I should get closer to see what was really happening. By the time I could make it down to ground level, people were all in the streets not sure what had just happened. Some of us tried to walk down the many blocks to get a closer look, but the closer we got the more people were running in our direction. Then a plume of dark smoke and debris starting to cover what was once a bright blue sky. I was now starting to have trouble breathing. All the smoke in the air was horrifying. I didn’t want to get closer even though I wanted to attempt to get closer to help. Police were now yelling at everyone to retreat to where we had come from and get off the streets. My clothes and body were now becoming covered in debris. I started to cry. People all around me were in such horror. Most were crying and screaming. A few of the people I was standing near, had loved ones who worked in the towers. I was very concerned about Carl and his colleagues. I also thought about my old band mates from the blues band, who last I heard, were still working in those buildings as well. How could this have all happened?

  So many thoughts were racing through my head. I was hoping my daughters didn’t have to see this horror. I tried to call my in-laws to let them know I was ok, but all the lines were jammed up. I was very concerned for Carl since he was behind his desk every day before eight a.m. I knew he must have been inside the building when the plane hit. I wanted to get there to see if I could find him but the smoke and rescue people were not allowing anyone like me within blocks of the area. I felt totally helpless. I went back up to my apartment to get cleaned up and to get away from all the loud sirens and people in shock. At first, I was afraid to enter the building again but I didn’t know what else to do. I tried to call Carl at home. The phone lines were inundated with all the calls being made. It was impossible to get any information from where I was standing, only horror.

  I went back inside to wash off my face and get rid of the ash and tears. I turned on the radio. I watched from my window as the second tower came crashing to the ground. My body was shaking for hours as I could not stop crying.

  I was in the same building the day before watching as hundreds if not thousands were going up and down the elevators. No one had anything like this tragedy on their minds. The radio announcers up and down the dial were now speculating this was some kind of terrorist attack. New York was not the only city being hit. I knew the world was no longer as I had known it. I was frantic worrying about Carl and wanting to let my daughters know I was fine. There was nothing I could do. I thought about leaving the area but I heard everywhere you turned, the city was in gridlock. I also didn’t want to leave until I knew about Carl. We had become close over the years even if we didn’t see each other that often. I was his first client. He had done very well by me over the years with advice and finances. I had to know if he was out of the building in time.

  I sat inside for hours, finally turning on the television to watch all the reports until I fell asleep, well past midnight. I still had not been able to reach Carl or my daughters. I woke up the next morning to sounds of people still weeping everywhere. I think most wanted to believe this as all a very bad dream. I needed something for my growing anger and nerves. I knew there was no place in the city to get drugs. The entire city was still in shock. I decided to sit in the apartment for one more day until I could make my way over to Jersey to stay with my parents. I ventured out for a little while, but the closer I got to the damaged site, the more the ground was full of dark ash and trash everywhere. People were now walking the streets putting up signs looking for loved ones. I knew I could not stay outside long because it was making me angrier and more desperate to find some pills. I forced myself back into my apartment and again watched the news. I could not stay away from the news, but the more I watched and heard about the now apparent terrorists attacks on American soil, the more depressed I was becoming. I finally fell asleep again with more tears streaming down my face. For the first time in my entire life I wanted to kill another human being. I wanted to kill anyone responsible for this senseless attack.

  The next day I made it to Debby’s house. I was able to reach my daughters over the phone from Debby’s home. They were of course relieved to hear from me. I also contacted my parents. I think it helped to be with another person that I had a connection with, as opposed to sitting in my apartment alone. There was a huge sadness sitting over the city. It was not a place for anyone, other than people who could help revive the city and help others in real need. I was hoping that if I stayed with Debby for a few days my nerves and anger would calm down. I sat with Debby for two days watching the news reports. Debby did her best but she didn’t know how to react when I started to yell at the television. I tried to be respectful of her children in the house, at times I would walk around her yard to try and calm down enough to walk back inside her home. I knew as gracious as she was being, it was not good for her or her children to have me stay any longer. I went into her bathroom to wash up. I would leave for home. I opened up her medicine closet. There was a bottle of pills with some unknown name on the bottle. I didn’t care. I opened up the bottle and poured a few into the palm of my hand and hid them in my pants pocket. I went out and gave Debby and her kids a kiss on the cheek and drove off into the darkness.

  As I drove down the small two lane road towards home, I realized how late it was, and emotionally drained I had become. There was no way I could drive another twelve hours home without some rest. I didn’t dare wake my parents near midnight. They were getting on in years now and were usually in bed before ten. I imagine I could have found a local hotel to stay in overnight but I had this nervous energy I wanted to use up. I also knew it was dangerous to drive a long distance in my condition.

  The pills in my pocket were yelling at me to pop them in my mouth. I had no clue what they were. They could have been anything from stomach medicine to blood pressure medicines, I really didn’t know. It was more a needed to take something, as opposed to any rational thinking. My car was almost driving alone now. I was trying to find anything on the radio other than the constant news stories of misery and destruction. At one point during the night, it seemed I passed the same building multiple times. I was not sure how that happened. I drove past my parent’s house a few times wanting to stop but all the lights were off. I refused to wake them. I was totally exhausted. I knew I could easily close my eyes, so I pulled into the next parking lot I could find and turned off the engine.

  The next few hours I pounded my brain with an endless cycle of how could all this happen and was life not worth living with such despair and destruction everywhere. I thought about turning the engine back on and driving to places in town where I thought I could find some drugs. I was again so angry at life and God. I wanted to know why this could all happen. Why could I not just be happy playing guitar doing what I could to make the world a better place through music? Why were people in the world so determined to destroy others? How could a merciful God allow such a thing to happen in this world?

  My mind was racing with so many thoughts and all I wanted to do was end it. I thought about my daughters and how they would be fine with George and Rose. Then the next moment, I didn’t want to take the easy way out. Besides it was also engrained in me as a kid that suicide was still taking a life and I would never get into heaven. But was there still a heaven? What did it all matter any longer? I drove my car around not sure what I was looking for, but I ended the night in what was a familiar site. I closed my eyes for some rest just before daylight. I pulled the pills from my pocket and held them firmly in the palm of my hand, squeezing them so tight, that I could feel them leave a mark.

  I woke hours later with the sound of cars driving along the road and voices of people walking past my car. My blurry eyes spied my watch to see it was past ten in the morning. My right hand was still closed slightly, with the pills intact. I was hungry and needed a restroom. I needed so much more but that was my immediate thought. There was a familiar coffee shop in the shopping center where I had ended up just a few hours ago
. I wandered in, washed up then sat and ordered breakfast.

  I sat quietly listening to the news and the locals all talking about the obvious news of the day. It was a loud mumble that I could hear from every table. The waitress came over after I had been sitting for maybe thirty minutes and asked, “Sorry Sir I don’t mean to disturb you but you look familiar to me. Did we go to high school together?” She went on and on about her high school and questioned where all her classmates were now and so on and so on.

  I was barely paying her attention when she blurted out, “I do know you, you are Stu, I think Stu, oh don’t tell me, I saw you play at some dance one time in high school. Do you still play guitar?” I looked at her. She seemed so sincere and determined in her remarks I only responded, “I have not played in days but yes, I still play guitar from time to time” and smiled.

  “Oh Stu, I knew it was you. We were biology partners for an entire year, don’t you remember? We dissected a frog together. Those were some of the best times in my life. We sat and joked all the time in that class, you really don’t remember me do you? You don’t remember looking at that tiny little heart inside that poor dead frog? I’ll never forget the day we opened it up and you told me that one day you would give your heart to anyone who would listen to you and your music. Wow, I thought that was such a cool thing for anyone to think their life could touch others like that. Then I saw you play at the dance two years later and you were right. I wish I could have done that for another person in my life.” At that point I asked her to please sit with me. “If I do, my boss might fire me, Stu.”