Johnny Cash Statue – On Life and Love after 50

Sunday Morning Coming Down

On Life and Love after 50 eNewsletter – October 4, 2024
Sunday Morning Coming Down
By Columnist Tom Blake

Part 1 – Sunday Morning Coming Down

In the summer of 1975, Johnny Cash and his wife June Carter Cash invited 17 Victoria Station Restaurant Chain executives and their wives/girlfriends to be their guests at a dual concert at the Sahara Tahoe Resort and Casino at Lake Tahoe.

I was among the 17. Our group was seated in the front row. There were approximately 1,500 people in the room. A little background information will explain Johnny’s connection to Victoria Station.

Johnny loved trains. Victoria Station restaurants were built out of boxcars and cabooses. Johnny was hired to sing the company’s radio commercials and to be our spokesperson because he identified with trains. As the Marketing Director, it was my job to get Johnny signed and later to ensure that Johnny’s experience with us was first class.

I first met Johnny and June in 1975 when I picked them up in a limo at the Coconut Grove Hotel in Miami Beach. My mission was to have them check out our company’s Miami restaurant to convince Johnny to agree to represent us.
In the limo, I heard Johnny mention to June that Kris Kristofferson had bought a toy train for their son John’s fifth birthday.

Back to the Sahara Lake Tahoe. After the first show, during the intermission, all 17 couples were invited to go backstage. Johnny and June stood together, and I introduced each person to them. I was proud, feeling at least partially responsible for bringing the Cashes and our group together. As we left the backstage area to return to our seats, Johnny pulled me aside and asked, “Tom, what is your favorite song of mine?”

I replied, “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” Johnny said, “Kris Kristofferson wrote that. It’s one of my favorites too.” I smiled and said, “I know Kris wrote it.” At the start of the second show–as Johnny always did–he faced the audience and said, “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.”

And then he pointed at me and said, “Hello, Tom Blake, this song is for you.” He sang, Sunday Morning Coming Down. I was overcome with gratitude.

During the next two years, I was with Johnny and June at least 25 times, usually when they appeared in a city where Victoria Station had a restaurant. We became good friends. That friendship continued for 25 more years.

Johnny introduced me to Carl Perkins, Larry Gatlin, John Denver, Glen Campbell, Rosanne Cash, and Roger Miller. But I never met Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, or Willie Nelson.
And when Johnny published his “Man In Black” memoir in 1975, he signed–with me standing next to him–the inside front cover of his book with these words:
Hendersonville, Tennessee, August 15, 1975 To Tom Blake, the Best to you
(See photo below)

Johnny and June both passed away in 2003. When I published my book, “Prime Rib & Boxcars. Whatever Happened to Victoria Station?” in 2006, I wanted Kris Kristofferson to have a copy of it, because the book describes my relationship with the Cash family, and a chapter is titled “Sunday Morning Coming Down.”

That chapter mentions Kris. I knew how much Johnny cared for him. I asked Rosanne Cash, one of Johnny’s four daughters, if she would provide me with Kris’s snail mail address, which she did, and I mailed Kris a book in 2007. Two weeks later, I was making dinner at Greta’s (my partner of 25 years) house, in San Clemente. Greta went to the mailbox and returned to the kitchen.

Greta said, “You have a package from Kris in Hawaii.” My sisters, Pam and Chris, were on holiday in Hawaii and I thought Kris was Chris my sister, who perhaps had sent me some seashells or chocolates.

I said to Greta, “Open it.” Greta opened it and exclaimed, “Oh Wow! It’s an autographed picture signed with these words, ‘Thanks, Tom, Peace Kris Kristofferson!’” When she showed it to me, I was thrilled. (See picture that Kris sent me above).

A couple of years later, Greta and I attended a concert at the San Manuel Casino in Riverside featuring Kris and Merle Haggard performing together. They were awesome, but I had failed to get backstage passes, so we didn’t meet him. Another time, Greta bought me a birthday present– tickets to see Kris performing solo in person at the Disney Theatre in LA. We did not have backstage passes. Again, we didn’t meet him.

September 24, 2004

A month ago, I mentioned in this eNewsletter that I hoped to attend the unveiling of the Johnny Cash statue in the Nation’s Capitol Building on September 24, 2024.

But only United States Senators and members of Congress were invited plus about 100 members of the Cash Family. I contacted Rosanne’s manager to see if they might have an extra ticket. He told me the Cash Family ticket allotment was already filled. I surmised that Johnny’s old pals like Kris Kristofferson and Willie Nelson might secure a couple of those seats. Kris wasn’t there; I don’t know if Willie was.

This past Sunday morning (coincidentally, a Sunday morning), while checking my computer, I read that Kris, at 88, had peacefully passed away at his home in Maui the day before.

Although I had never met him, I felt a big void. What an incredible person Kris Kristofferson was. A Rhodes Scholar, a graduate of Oxford University, and a professor at West Point. But his grit belonged to Nashville, where he became a janitor for five years to pursue his career of becoming one of the most prolific singers/songwriters in history. Kris followed his heart and touched mine.

Thank you, Kris, for being kind, and caring and, for writing so many classic songs, especially, “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” Your signed photo hangs proudly in my office 17 years after you sent it to me.

The link to “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is below.

Part 2 Jackson

Since I mentioned in Part 1 about being in a limo with Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash the first time I met them, I admit I was nervous. To make conversation, (and being aware of how popular their song Jackson was), I told them I was born and raised in Jackson.

June said, “Oh, Jackson, Tennessee?” I said, “No, Jackson, Michigan.” June said, “That’s nice.” (She wasn’t overly impressed but was very courteous, as always).

A year later, Johnny said to me, “Do you think Victoria Station would consider building a restaurant named Johnny Cash’s Victoria Station in Jackson, Tennessee?” I said, “I’ll ask. It didn’t happen. We already had restaurants in Memphis and Knoxville, Tennessee.

I mention Jackson because just last week the man Billy Edd Wheeler, who co-wrote the song Jackson in 1963–that Johnny and June made so popular–died at 91. So, bless Billy Edd Wheeler, Johhny Cash, June Carter Cash, and Kris Kristofferson for their respective contributions to Country music.

A Link to Sunday Morning Coming Down is below:

https://youtu.be/IRU9i9egr7A

The above photo is the inside cover of Johnny’s memoir, Man In Black, signed by him to me, August 15, 1975. He signed it and then handed it to me standing next to him. We were in the House of Cash recording studio, in Hendersonville, Tenn.

A Week of Little Blessings

On Life and Love After 50 eNewsletter September 13, 2024

By Tom Blake Columnist

An eight-foot statue of Johnny Cash is being unveiled in the Nation’s Capitol Emancipation Hall on September 24. I thought, how cool, I’d love to be there, but I assumed it would be an exclusive “by invitation only” event. I searched online for details.

I saw a copy of the formal invitation sent to United States Senators and House Members. Even they had to RSVP to reserve a seat and indeed, it was an “invitation-only” event. I telephoned the Sargeant Of Arms spokesperson listed on the invitation and she told me there was no way I could get a seat on my own. She did mention that a limited number of seats had been set aside for Cash family members and suggested I contact them.

I’ve known Rosanne Cash, Johnny’s daughter, for nearly 50 years. On a whim, I sent Danny, Rosanne’s road manager, an email request to ask Rosanne if there might be an empty seat left that I could occupy. For luck, I put on my Johhny Cash t-shirt before venturing out for the day.

Within minutes, Danny responded: “I’m sorry Tom, Rosanne has already used up her allotment.” I thought about guys like Kris Kristofferson and Willie Nelson who are probably on Rosanne’s list so I wasn’t surprised or disappointed. However, being able to dream like that at my age is a little blessing.

My next-door neighbors, Jake and Kresta, have a son who lives in Nashville, Tennessee, and they own a home there. They visit often. A friend of mine who also owns a home in Nashville but lives in Dana Point stopped by my house that day to hopefully meet them. I introduced her to them. They compared notes and found that their homes are in the same suburb only a few blocks apart. They became friends. That was a little blessing. What a small world.

A while later, still wearing my Johnny Cash t-shirt, I stopped at Trader Joe’s. When checking out, there were two young men (age 20 or less) working the cash register together. While placing my items in a paper bag, one of the guys saw my t-shirt and said, “Do you like Johnny Cash?”

I replied, “Yes, I knew him and worked with him for two years. He was a great guy.”

The boy’s face lit up; he said excitedly, “I love Johnny Cash. I love Johnny Cash. The next time you come in can we take some time, and you tell me more about him?”

Here was a young man approximately 64 years younger than me and we both admire Johnny Cash. We had an immediate connection. That was a little blessing.

And speaking of Trader Joe’s, I’ve owned a black and red T.J.’s insulated bag for at least 20 years. I’ve taken it on trips overseas multiple times. It’s virtually a world traveler. It’s so versatile, lightweight, and convenient.

The day after being at Trader Joe’s, I walked to the sidewalk in front of my house. There was a new Trader Joe’s canvas tote bag, exactly like mine, on a bush near the sidewalk. It was empty except for a pink Gelson’s Market receipt that showed a name and a telephone number. I thought to myself, “I bet the owner would like to have that bag back. And if I leave it out here near the sidewalk, anybody walking by could snatch it.”

I brought the bag inside and texted the number on the receipt to explain I had found the bag. A day went by, no response. I decided to leave a voice message. Three hours later, the phone rang. It was Jack, the bag’s owner. I suggested we meet somewhere so I could give him his bag. I told him the name of my street.

He told me his. Same street. Turns out, he lives at number 5, and I live at number 15–50 yards away but around the corner. Both of us have been in the neighborhood for years. We had never met. And, now, we are friends. That was another little blessing.

This week, I stopped at Tutor and Spunky’s, my former deli in Dana Point. A woman I’ve known for 30 years named Eileen Gordon, a personal trainer who works in the same center, was there and we chatted for a few minutes.

I sell my books at the deli. A delightful employee named Apple told me a woman customer named Wendy Adam had bought one of my “Tutor & Spunky’s Deli. A Dana Point Landmark” books that I published in 2021. Wendy had left the book at the deli hoping I would sign below the picture on page 232.

The picture on page 232 is of Vern McGarry, a loyal deli customer, an accomplished skydiver, and the volunteer coach of the 2007 Dana Hills High School track and field high jumpers. Three high jumpers were also in the picture. Vern sadly passed away a few years ago.

And then Apple said with a tear in her eye, that one of the jumpers was Wendy’s son Jeff Adam. And that he had passed away unexpectedly at age 20, which is why Wendy wanted that page signed. Apple had Wendy’s phone number and called her to tell her I was at the deli signing the book.

As fate would have it, Wendy was doing personal training at Eileen’s exercise gym.

As I was about to sign under the picture, Wendy came into the deli. We had never met. I asked her about her son Jeff. She told me how Jeff had passed; it was a day after he performed in a decathlon event. She and I hugged. There were tears all around. Thanks to Apple for being so considerate and caring toward Wendy. What a little blessing that event at the deli was.

Blessings come in all sizes. I experienced them this past week. And I am blessed.