Cash: The Autobiography by Johnny Cash & Jonny Cash & Patrick Carr

Author:Johnny Cash & Jonny Cash & Patrick Carr [Cash, Johnny & Cash, Jonny & Carr, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0061013579
Publisher: HarperPaperbacks
Published: 2003-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

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One of the worst times came early: my con- cert at Carnegie Hall in May of 1961, which apart from being an event in itself was the final stop on one ride and the beginning of another. When I got to New York I was already burned out. I'd been in Newfoundland with Merle Travis and Gordon Terry on a moose hunt sponsored by a company introducing walkie-talkies to the civilian market. One of the things a walkie-talkie would be good for, they fig- ured, was communication between hunters in the woods, and we were there to publicize that proposition. As it turned out, the radios didn't get much use. I shot a moose about three hundred yards from the cabin and called vlerle on the walkie-talkie to tell him so, and it went something like this: “Merle, I got a moose.” “That's nice. I might get one too if you'd stay off this thing-” That was about it for the walkie-talkies. You don't need them when you're holed up together in a cabin tak- ing drugs and drinking, which is what we were really doing those three days. We all had our own preferences in that regard—Merle was on sleeping pills while I was on amphetamines—but it worked out, more or less. If Merle could keep his dosage right, he'd stay in what he considered his mellow mood, not nervous, for long peri- ods of time. In that state he could be hilarious, a wonder- ful conversationalist and raconteur. He took so many pills that eventually they'd start working like they were supposed to and put him to sleep, but sometimes that took three or four days. For me, the trick was to match my biochemical schedule, running on the fast track, to his. Sometimes it worked and great stories were told,

great thoughts exchanged; sometimes it didn't and there was a lot of dead air. Merle was truly one of the most interesting men I've ever met, certainly one of the most talented in many areas. He was a brilliant singer, songwriter, and guitar innovator—he developed “Travis picking,” a step further on from the style Mother Maybelle introduced. On the side, so to speak, he drew wonderful cartoons, told fabu- lous stories, possessed authoritative knowledge in many different areas, and was a skilled taxidermist, master watchmaker, and expert knife thrower (he's the one who taught me how to sink a bowie from twenty paces). That's an odd-sounding combination, I know, but Merle was indeed a man for all seasons, in many ways the ideal companion. After three days in that cabin, however, I was about ready to kill him, he probably felt the same way about me, and Gordon Terry felt likewise about both of us. It was a relief to get ourselves and our moose meat out of there and go our separate ways. I took myself and mine to New York City and met up with the regular gang, but by that time I was shot: voice gone, nerves gone, judgment gone.

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