A Brush With Greatness, V2.0 (Rosanne Cash)

In my early years as an amatuer songwriter, I often concocted elaborate schemes in order to get my songs to famous performers. One of my best-executed plans involved country singer Rosanne Cash, back in 1988.

Cash was on tour, promoting her "King's Record Shop" album. I was able to get two tickets, which wound up being in the first row of tables at The Vic Theater in Chicago. Usually, shows at The Vic were general admission, with the main floor being open. Occasionally, with acts that had older followings, though, they moved in tables and chairs.

At any rate, my plan was to demo a song I had written for her called "I Hold On." The day of her show, my friend Kleinfeld and I headed to my local studio, where I cut a simple demo of the song with only vocal and guitar. We mixed it and made a few cassette copies, leaving ample time to grab some dinner and get to the show.

Cash's show was phenominal. I paricularly remember how the spotlight that was on her sparkled in her eyes. As a young, lonely guy in my early twenties, I was crushin' pretty hard. Throughout the show, people walked up to hand her flowers, stuffed animals and other gifts. Some simply tossed them onstage, mid-performance. The latter was something I didn't want to attempt, for fear of breaking her concentration and/or being ejected from the premises.

So, I decided that I'd toss one of the cassettes onstage as the lights dimmed between songs. Thinking I had my timing right, I stood up at the next interval. Just as I tossed the cassette, the lights came up. In full brightness, myself, Kleinfeld, the entire Vic audience, Cash and her band, see a cassette come sailing out of the darkness to land squarely inbetween her legs. She smirks, picks it up and sets it on the amp behind her. The show continued without my being thrown out.

After the last encore, we headed outside, where I was determined to actually meet her face to face, so that I could present another copy of "I Hold On." I knew full well that a stagehand would be collecting everything the audience had given her, ultimately giving it all away to a local charity.

We walked around the perimeter of the theater, looking for the stage door. Luckily for us, there was only one door with any sort of activity going on near it, so we staked out our territory and waited. Some roadie poked his head out of the door and seeing us said, "She's not coming out here, she's going out the front." Yeah, right. Then why was there a big stretch limo parked out back? Ten minutes later, she emerged and headed towards the limo.

I walked up to her and said "Hi, I really enjoyed the show. I'm the guy that threw the tape." She kinda giggled, not seeming to mind that I was walking her to the limo. Oddly enough, the only security present was her then-husband Rodney Crowell, who was a few steps behind us. "I wrote this song that'd be perfect for you called "I Hold On."" I handed her another copy as she said, "Sure, I'll give it a listen." As she got into the limo, she turned and said "Thanks for coming to the show." What a sweet woman. Everything considered, as close as I got to her, I really deserved to be in a security guard's headlock at that point.

Rosanne Cash never did record my song, but she was thoughtful enough to send me an autographed photo a few weeks later. To this day, Kleinfeld remarks, "Man, I still can't believe how that plan of your's went off without a hitch." I can't either. My memories of that night, when I stole a few minutes of Rosanne Cash's time, will rank among the best moments of my life. Okay, so maybe I'm still crushin'.....but just a little.

A Brush With Greatness, V1.0

Back in high school, I had a summer job as a starter at the public golf course in Waukegan, Illinois. While Waukegan was once a nice place to grow up in, it's now a crime-ridden haven for cash loan and cellphone stores. But, that's another post. We're here today to talk about celebs. Somehow or another, I've managed to run across quite a few in my time.

I remember working a charity tourney one weekend, which featured several prominant Chicago Bears. The only Bear that I clearly recall, though, is one Noah Jackson. Weighing in at roughly 400 pounds, this no-neck had his quadruple X, yellow Izod (It was 1984!) bursting at the seams.

I mention Mr. Jackson, not because of his exploits on the field, but for the way he was challenging the snackshop staff to keep up with his vacuum-like eating style. He ordered one cheese-burger (fries would only slow him down) and began chomping it down T-Rex style. Mid-bite, he ordered another. Just as he was throwing back the last drops of his beverage, number two arrived. This time, the follow-up was ordered immediately. Numbers three and four soon arrived, only to meet the same fate as the first two. Wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve, he grunted "I'll be back," and headed out to the back nine. Impressive.

Every year when I see the hotdog eating contest from Coney Island, I think about Jackson and his superior eating ability. I can't remember any of his accomplishments on the field, but I'm certain that I'll never forget the sight of him laying waste to four pounds of rare hamburger in about fifteen minutes.