by Steve Turner
Though presented as an authorized biography . . . this portait is hardly sanitized. There are bright shards of detail. 3½ of 4 stars.
—PEOPLE
Reveals that the country crooner was even more devout that his public knew . . .
—TIME
A glimpse of Cash from . . . those closest to him, some of whom have never gone on the record about Cash before.
—THE TENNESSEAN
Turner is refreshingly reluctant to sensationalize . . . evenhanded and honest. Turner's life of the artist pays due honor to Cash.
—HOLLYWOOD REPORTER
The Man Called Cash takes a genuine hero, examines him thoroughly and leaves both his heroism and his humanity intact. In what may be the most admirable of his many achievements, it's as good as Cash deserves. 3 ½ of 4 stars.
—ANTHONY DECURTIS,ROLLING STONE
. . . eminently readable . ..
—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
The rich details of his life, culled from the stories of family and friends, bring the legendary singer down to earth. You'll be hooked . . .
—NEW YORK POST
The Man Called Cash is the best account to date of a truly remarkable life.
—CHET FLIPPO, CMT.COM
This is a worthy book.
—RICHARD AREGOOD, THE SUNDAY STAR-LEDGER
Johnny Cash was unquestionably one of the most gifted and unusual men I ever knew. My wife Ruth and I considered Johnny and June two of our dearest friends, and we miss them both deeply.
In this highly readable biography, Steve Turner vividly captures the remarkable story of Johnny's life, from beginning to end—a life marked by repeated struggles and successes. Most of all, it was a life marked by great faith in Jesus Christ—a faith that carried him through difficulties that would have overwhelmed a lesser person. Johnny Cash comes alive in this book, and you will be a better person for having read it.
— BILLY GRAHAM
I knew several secrets that Johnny had shared with me years ago, but now this book The Man Called Cash tells everything you wanted to know about the Johnny Cash I knew.
— MERLE KILGORE
Johnny Cash is my friend. I say is because he ain't really gone . . . he's just hoverin' and watchin' and helpin' the rest of us get thru this "life deal." I'll read this book a little at a time. One can't take much of "ole J.R." at one sittin'. He's too powerful. . . but the book is solid and powerful too.
—LARRY GATLIN
John Cash was and will always be the true voice and spirit of a man of God and an American musical giant. He was a student of the human condition and a teacher of the spirit. He was a sinner and a redeemer, who struggled to find truth in his own life and bring love and awareness to the world. He admitted to us his darkness but always struggled to find the light. He never pretended to be anything but himself. He and June Carter Cash (his angel) will always be our inspirations. You will discover that inspiration in this wonderful book. If you never knew them, you will meet them here and grow to love them as we did. The Man Called Cash will fill your hearts with insight into the lives of two amazing people and the most important era of American music.
—JANE SEYMOUR AND JAMES KEACH
Johnny Cash was all too human, but God was always tugging at his soul. This book gives us a glimpse of his inner struggles, and of a God who would not let him go.
—TONY CAMPOLO
THE MAN CALLED CASH
© 2004 The John R. Cash Revocable Trust. Published by W Publishing Group, a division of Thomas Nelson, Inc., P. 0. Box 141000, Nashville, Tennessee 37214.
W Publishing Group books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fundraising, or sales promotional use. For information, please email [email protected].
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without prior permission of the publisher.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984. International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
All lyrics by Johnny Cash are used by permission of the John R. Cash Estate. For a list of songs and albums by Johnny Cash, see the Discography in the back of this book. All lyrics by other Cash family members are used by permission.
Written by Steve Turner, London, England.
Cover Design: Margaret Pesek, N•House Design, Nashville, Tennessee
Page Design: Inside Out Design & Typesetting, Fort Worth, Texas
Reviewed for accuracy by John Carter Cash, Lou Robin, Karen Robin, and Mark Stielper
Special thanks to Laura Cash, The House of Cash, and Rhonda Hogan of Creative Solutions, Arlington, Texas, for compiling photographs for this book.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Turner, Steve, 1949-
The man called Cash: the life, love, and faith of an American legend / Steve Turner.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references (p.).
ISBN 0-8499-0815-9 (tp)
ISBN 0-8499-1820-0 (hc)
1. Cash, Johnny. 2. Country musicians—United States—Biography. I. Title.
ML420.C265T87 2004
782.421642'092—dc22 2004015250
Printed in the United States of America
05 06 07 08 09 RRD 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Q: Did you ever have an imaginary friend?
A: Yes. Sometimes I am two people. Johnny is
the nice one. Cash causes all the trouble.
They fight.
—Entry in Tara Cash's personal book
Dad, Share Your Life with Me
Contents
Foreword by Kris Kristofferson
Acknowledgments
1. First to Cross
2. The Promised Land
3. Leaving Home
4. Walking the Line
5.Amphetamine Blues
6. Going Down, Down, Down
7. Busted
8. The Voice of America
9. Personal Jesus
10. The Beast in Me
11. Riding the Highway
12. American Recordings
13. The Man Comes Around
14. Touched by Grace
Interview with Johnny Cash
Chronology
Discography
Personal Interviews by the Author
Endnotes
Bibliography
Index
Foreword
KRIS KRISTOFFERSON
JOHNNY CASH IS A TRUE AMERICAN HERO, who rose from a beginning as humble as Abraham Lincoln's to become a friend and an inspiration to prisoners and presidents—respected and beloved the world over for his courage, his integrity, and his genuine love for his fellow man. Like Muhammad Ali, he was bigger than the profession that brought him to the world's attention, and his spirit transcended the boundaries of ordinary artistic stardom. But he was wonderfully, charmingly human.
I am told that when Bob Dylan met John—I think it was at the Newport Folk Festival—he circled John, bent slightly forward and smiling up at him with pure admiration. It's a reaction with which anyone who ever met him can identify. I first saw him in person in June 1965, backstage at the Ryman Auditorium. I was still in uniform, but when Marijohn Wilkin introduced us, his electric handshake was the final nail in the coffin of my army career. John was and always would be larger than life, as powerful and unpredictable as lightning, the deep thunder of his voice a perfect match for his craggy, Lincolnesque features. June, his partner for life, was the beautiful, eff
ervescent middle daughter of the legendary Carter Family, as bright and shining as he was dark and dangerous, and the two of them were head over heels in love and unquestionably the answer to each other's dreams. The Wildwood Flower may not have tamed the Holy Terror, but she definitely smoothed the rough edges of the wildest force of nature running loose in the magical world of music at the time, and together they would become a rock-solid sanctuary and source of inspiration, not only for each other and their beloved children, but for the extended family of lost souls and songwriters they took under their wing.
The first words John said to me when we were introduced at Columbia Recording Studios where I was working as a janitor were, "It's always nice to get a letter from home, isn't it, Kris?" Cowboy Jack Clement had told him of a letter I'd received from my mother disowning me for pursuing a career in a music "nobody over the age of fourteen ever listens to and, if they did, they wouldn't be anyone we'd want to know." It might have been why he always encouraged me in my songwriting (he carried the lyrics of one of my songs in his wallet).
Although it would be years before he ever recorded one of my songs, I continued to pitch him every song I wrote, giving them to June or Luther Perkins so I wouldn't get fired for bothering him. Once he went to bat for me when his producer's assistant tried to get me fired for letting two songwriters into his session (they had cornered him in a hallway and were trying to get him to listen to a whole album of religious songs they wanted him to cut). My boss told me he wasn't going to fire me because he knew I wasn't responsible for letting them in, but he advised me to stay away from the studio where John was recording. So I was hiding in the basement busying myself with erasing tapes for reuse in demo sessions when John suddenly appeared and asked how I was doing (as if he always came down to the basement to see how the janitor was doing). I said I was okay, and he asked if I was coming up to the session. I said I was pretty busy and he said, "Well, I heard you had some trouble, and I just wanted you to know that I'm not going to start the session until you get there." So I went back upstairs with him, watched the session, and tried to ignore the glare coming from the producer's assistant in the control room.
Years later when I was a performer (thanks to John putting me onstage with him at the Newport Folk Festival—against their wishes), I was taking a lot of heat in a country music magazine for work I was doing to protest the U.S. terrorizing of Nicaragua. John wrote a letter defending my patriotism and pointed out that I'd served my country in the army. He did the same thing for Bob Dylan when Bob was criticized in Sing Out! for the direction his music was taking ("leave him alone; he knows what he's doing"). John was never afraid to jeopardize his own career by defending what he thought was right.
Some years later I was opening for him in Philadelphia and dedicated a song to Mumia Abu Jamal (who was on death row). Some officials went ballistic, and after I'd left the stage they sent word that I needed to go back out and apologize. I felt awful because it was John's show I was hurting. John said, "You don't need to apologize for anything you say on my show. I want you to come onstage with me at the end of my set when we're doing the gospel songs and sing "Why Me."
Speaking of "Why Me," John once told the guys in his band that Jesus wrote a song called "Why Me, Kris."
John never lost his sense of humor. When June slipped away from us without warning, he was devastated. At the funeral home where people were paying their last respects to her, I was sitting next to John near her casket as people filed by to offer their condolences. One of the mourners spoke with John, then noticed me and proceeded to tell me what a great singer he thought I was. When he left, John leaned over to me and said, "Well, that's one."
I will always be grateful to John and June for the kindness they showed to me and my wife and children. He wrote some very funny letters to his namesake, Johnny, and he was always writing them poems and giving them pictures he'd drawn and toys and books. A lot of books. He had a gift for making everyone he was talking to feel like they were the most important person in the world. His last words to me were, "I love you, Kris." I will always love you, John.
Acknowledgments
I AM FIRST OF ALL GRATEFUL TO MY EDITOR, Kate Etue, and publisher, David Moberg, for taking me on. I was originally going to cowrite this book with Johnny Cash, and we were due to begin working together in late October 2003. He died on September 12. Fortunately, for me, his estate still wanted the project to proceed, and that's how The Man Called Cash evolved.
Thanks are due to Johnny's manager, Lou Robin, and his wife, Karen, for clearing the way for some of my interviewees and for giving constructive feedback on the manuscript. Thanks to Johnny's attorney, Bob Sullivan, for liaising between the various parties involved, and to Kelly Hancock and Karen Adams at the House of Cash for supplying me with phone numbers, books, cuttings, DVDs and insights.
In Nashville, the Tennessean newspaper allowed me free access to its archives, and this proved to be an invaluable resource. Particular thanks to editorial assistant Beverley Burnett and text archivist Christine Irizarry for making this possible. The Johnny Cash files in the archives of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum were also extremely useful.
I wouldn't have had such an insight into life in Dyess, Arkansas, if Everett Henson and his brother A. J. hadn't driven me from Memphis to their old hometown and then shared a wealth of material with me, including copies of the Colony Herald from the 1930s and yearbooks from Dyess High School. Everett is the closest Dyess has to an official historian, and he keeps former residents and other interested parties in touch through his Web site.
Likewise, I wouldn't have been able to track down so many former USAF colleagues who served in Germany if it weren't for Gayle Stelter, keeper of the Master List for the 12th/6912th Radio Squadron Mobile (RSM). Gayle was always obliging and quick, and I hope I've helped swell the size of the reunions by passing on the contact details of previously untraced men.
Mark Stielper's encyclopedic knowledge of Johnny's and June's lives was invaluable to me, as was his willingness to give me comprehensive answers to all my questions simply because of his love of the people involved and his concern for historical accuracy. Every legend deserves a Mark Stielper, as does every biographer.
Thanks to Annie McCaig for interview transcriptions, Stephen Aucutt for helping sort out the contract, and Steve Taylor for introducing me to my publisher. Thanks to Lou Freeman for letting me use the letters Cash wrote to her late husband, Ted. My interviewees are listed separately in the back of the book, and I thank all of them for sharing their memories.
ABOVE ALL I have to thank the Cash children—John Carter, Rosanne, Kathy, Tara, and Cindy—who gave me so much of their time, never flinched from any question, and have always been helpful and cheerful. There were aspects of their father's life that were painful for them to read, but they never tried to conceal his weaknesses or to mythologize his strengths.
I WAS NATURALLY DISAPPOINTED not to have worked on this project with the man himself. My only consolation is that not having him around has made me dig deeper for the truth. If he had spoon-fed me the information, I might have been tempted to pass it on without subjecting it to the normal rigorous tests.
I hope that, in the spirit of honesty and self-examination that he promoted in his work, he would approve of The Man Called Cash. When I met him in 1988 I gave him a copy of my book Hungry for Heaven, which was a study of the various religious influences on rock-'n'-roll throughout its history. On the tour bus back from Brighton to London I spent the journey talking to June, while Johnny sat across the aisle engrossed in reading the book. Two or three days later he phoned me to tell me how much he'd enjoyed it. The one sentence I can remember from all he said was, "In that book you told me things I didn't know about people I've known all my life." I'd like to think that he'd say something similar if he read The Man Called Cash.
The Man Called Cash
He's a poet, he's a picker—
He's a prophet, he's a pusher—
/>
He's a pilgrim and a preacher and a problem when he's stoned—
He's a walkin' contradiction
Partly truth and partly fiction
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.1
—"THE PILGRIM ; CHAPTER 33"
Kris Kristofferson
1
First to Cross
WHEN JOHNNY CASH LOST HIS WIFE, June Carter Cash, in May 2003, the public took a sudden deep breath. Surely it was Cash who should have died first. It was he who had subjected himself to an extensive catalog of physical abuse. It was doubtful whether he had a bodily organ that hadn't been operated on, an area of skin that hadn't been gashed, or a significant bone that hadn't been cracked. It was he who had overdosed on drugs, been pulled out of car wrecks, and even undergone double-bypass surgery. Even though he was June's junior by two and one-half years, everyone assumed he'd be the first to go. That's the way he wanted it, if they weren't able to go together.
And when it's all over
I hope we will go together
I don't want you to be alone, you know.
("I Love You Tonight," 1993)
The obvious question on everyone's mind was, "How will he cope now that she's gone?" The couple's mutual devotion was legendary—it had become impossible to imagine one without the other. In the days when Cash was physically tough, the loss of his wife would have been a devastating blow that would probably have sent him straight back on painkillers, so how would he manage now that he was frail and sick? Would he lose his faith? Would he ever record another song? Would he die of a broken heart?
His most recent single, a cover of Trent Reznor's "Hurt," had sounded like the final breath of music by a man admired for his honesty and self-disclosure. Although written about the pain of heroin addiction, Cash had appropriated the song's gritty imagery, masterfully turning it into a melancholy meditation upon his own mortality. The promotional video, directed by Mark Romanek, endorsed this interpretation through selected flashbacks of Cash's public life and lingering shots of the derelict and flood-damaged House of Cash museum where once-prized trophies now lay discarded and broken.