Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison by Michael Streissguth

Author:Michael Streissguth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University Press of Mississippi
Published: 2019-02-21T16:00:00+00:00

If the second show was Johnston and Cash’s primary insurance policy against a lackluster concert, emcee Hugh Cherry was his secondary policy. A great supporter of Cash from the 1950s when he was among the first disc jockeys on the West Coast to spin the Sun sensation’s records, Cherry took charge of guaranteeing that the prisoners knew they were to cheer and howl and roar throughout the show. “Respond,” he pleaded with the prisoners minutes before Carl Perkins took the stage. “You are a part of the album. You are a very important part, and if you hear something you like react in kind.” In the absence of the kind of ruffian reaction Cherry was attempting to scare up, Johnston, Cash, and everybody knew the live prison album would be altogether flaccid.

Cherry gave way to Carl Perkins, who shot off a rousing version of “Blue Suede Shoes” to explosive applause. “Let’s see how loud 1,000 men from Folsom can be,” barked Cherry in the rockabilly hero’s wake. “Let’s hear it.” The decibels shot to the roof. Only Cash seemed not to respond. From the side of the stage against the whitewashed granite walls, he stretched and shuffled about as he watched the action unfold. “As relaxed as a bug in a Roach Motel,” he said later about the day, Cash wondered if he could pull off the show without his usual handful of pills, although Marshall Grant figures that the star was only about 75 percent straight that day. Bob Johnston stood next to Cash, clenching a slender cigar in his mouth, while the Statlers sauntered to the mic to follow Carl Perkins.

As the quartet crooned, the engineers frantically worked to balance the microphone levels while cranking up the amplification so people in the back could hear everything. But the right sound proved elusive. The show halted, and the Statlers stepped back from their spots. The prisoners groaned, bringing Harold Reid back to his mic. “This is part of your punishment,” he joked, “so everybody stay real still.” After a few minutes without music, the engineers solved the problem and gave the Statlers the go-ahead to return. Picking up where they left off, the group dished out their snappy “This Old House” and goosed the audience with their lightheartedness. By the time they exited, after having grown “us a new eyebrow” through all the waiting, as one of the Statlers put it, the crowd was primed.

Cherry reappeared. “We’re ready to do the record session. Are you ready?” Cheers. “Now I need your help. When John comes out he will say—which will be recorded—‘Hi there, I’m Johnny Cash.’ When he says that then you respond. Don’t respond to him walking out. Welcome him after he says, ‘Johnny Cash.’ I’ll have my hands up. And you just follow me. Okay? You ready?”

That was the only way to bring Cash on stage; he needed no introduction. So Cherry held up his hands, imploring silence, and Cash paced to the mic. “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.

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