THE MUSIK-ZONE
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The Music of Mickey Newbury
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Once in a great while, we mere mortals who live such ordinary lives struggling to survive are privileged to get a glimpse of something wonderful and awesome. In 1999, as I recall, I had such an experience when I spent a weekend with Mickey Newbury - just the two of us. At the time I was host and producer of The Omega Report, a popular weekly hour-long documentary that dealt with "the Real X-Files" as well as government scandals, cover-ups and the secret world of intelligence. It was cablecast to more than 3.5 million homes in Tennessee, Kentucky and Philadelphia (the latter thanks to Drexel University, which carried it on all its stations). Inevitably, after every show, the phone would start ringing with calls from viewers who wanted to know more or to just talk. Annoyingly, The X-Files came on right after I went off the air and it was one of my favorite shows - so I somewhat resented the interruptions. Sure enough, just after doing a show on the abuses of the Internal Revenue Service in (I think) early 1999 - the last year I did the show, the phone rang.
Well, I certainly did know who Mickey Newbury was and I was floored. He was in Nashville staying at that place with the guitar-shaped swimming pool and working on songs for a new album, maybe even an anthology. Would I be interested in coming over for the weekend? "Does a bear shit in the woods?" I asked myself. Of course I would! Mickey was already in failing health and trailed a long tube behind him, connected to an oxygen tank. He had emphysema and still couldn't stop smoking. He'd seen the show and felt he himself had been an IRS victim, though he admitted it was probably more a crooked agent, accountant or label who had turned in fraudulent tax returns. Like many busy artists, Mickey trusted someone else to do the books, but the IRS held him responsible ... that's what they do. At the time he lived in a simple little cabin outside Springfield, Oregon after the IRS had seized his bank account and nearly everything he had. His wife, Susan, was a schoolteacher, but he angrily said they couldn't even afford a car so she could drive to work. Here was a man famous around the world, having written for the likes of Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Joan Baez, Waylon Jennings, Elvis Presley, Kris Kristofferson - the list goes on and on and on ... and he was nearly destitute. He was a big hit in Europe as a performer, but little known in the U.S. outside "the business." For two days I practically lived with the man in his borrowed condo. We talked about his bitter hatred for the IRS, his legendary reputation as a brawler, his music and his plans for the future, despite the fact he knew he was dying. We talked about that, too. "What I want to do," he grinned evilly, "is set up a recording on the answering machine so that for months after I die no one will know it. They'll still hear my voice on the phone. And I'm in Nashville to assemble some new songs so I have an album come out after I die and the world will still think I'm alive and kicking. It's a practical joke on the music business." We both laughed at the effect that would have. About his "brawler" reputation, the Air Force veteran said it was undeserved. "Just about the only time I kicked anybody's ass was when I saw them roughing up a woman. I don't allow that. Would you?" And for two days he played some songs no one else had ever heard because he was writing them in the solitary peace of his borrowed condo. We drank coffee together, shared cigarettes and broke bread together before I had to reluctantly leave. He gave me his private phone number ("it's the phone right next to my bed in Oregon") and some CDs, and promised he'd call me next time he was in Nashville. I think we both knew it would be the first and last time we would ever see each other. We hugged - long and tight - like brothers. Mickey died about two years later on Sept. 29, 2002 and of course, there was no way he could have kept his death a secret. It was all over the television, newspapers and Internet. I had called a few times, but the line had always been busy. To my knowledge, he never carried out his after-death practical joke and, to date, I've seen five new albums ... including "Blue To This Day" which was released after his death, just as he promised. His albums are now high-priced collector's items - if you can find them at all. I hope Susan sells a million of 'em! I'll certainly chip in what I can. It's ironic, though. When I log into his MySpace site, set up by friends and family, I can't help but chuckle to see "Mickey" logged in just a few days earlier. I guess in a way he did pull it off! But for two days I enjoyed one of the best musical, personal and spiritual experiences of my life with a damned good man who is now strumming with Waylon Jennings, Elvis, Johnny Cash and a lot more like him. Let the angels sing! No tribute to the Classics would be complete without Mickey, where he certainly deserves a place of honor, love and respect. Which all goes to show - you don't have to have a private plane, 10 semi-trucks and a road crew of 150 people to put on one helluva concert. Among the video collection above is a series called "Mickey's Last Public Appearance." This is kind of a sad one, because it shows Mickey with that oxygen tube up his nose, just as I remembered him - in considerable pain and not in as great a form as when I saw him earlier in Nashville. Don't interpret this as a musical great "beyond his prime" - but as a man still trying to give what his listeners wanted, even in the privacy of a friend's home. As you can see, he struggled, but even when he stumbled he could still laugh. Mickey was born Milton Sims Newbury Jr in Houston on May 19, 1940 to Mamie and Milton Newbury. As a child, he was inseparable from younger brother, Jerry; it was a friendship that continued throughout his life. In high school, Mickey decided to write songs. As a teenager, he shut himself away in his room, writing poetry and learning to play guitar. He formed a doo-wop group called The Embers. In 1959, Mickey joined the Air Force and was assigned to England for three years. When he returned to the U.S., he pursued his dream of being a songwriter. He lived in a 1954 Pontiac and traveled around Texas, Tennessee, and Louisiana playing gigs and working on shrimp boats. Eventually he found himself in Nashville, and in 1964, signed a publishing contract with Acuff-Rose. He moved to Nashville in 1965 and about this time, his first child Joe was born. Shortly thereafter, Jimmy Elledge was first to cover a Newbury song, Just As Long As That Someone Is You. 1966 was the year the music industry noticed Mickey Newbury. Don Gibson had a Top Ten Country hit with Funny Familiar Forgotten Feelings, while Tom Jones scored a world hit with the same Newbury song. In 1968, Mickey saw huge success; three number one songs and one number five across four different charts; Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) on the Pop/Rock chart by the First Edition, Sweet Memories on Easy Listening by Andy Williams, Time is a Thief on the R&B chart by Solomon Burke, and Here Comes the Rain Baby on the Country chart by Eddy Arnold. This feat has never been repeated. That year, Mickey's first album, Harlequin Melodies, was released by RCA. He didn't like it. Mickey met New Christy Minstrels member Susan Pack on a blind date in 1967 and would not see her again until 1969 when they immediately married and lived on a houseboat outside of Nashville. Over the next four years, utilizing Nashville's best musicians, Mickey released a trilogy: Looks Like Rain, Frisco Mabel Joy and Heaven Help The Child. They are often referred to as his masterpieces. Following the birth of their first child, Chris, in 1973, the Newburys moved to Susans home town in Oregon to make a family home. A daughter, Leah, arrived in 1977. In 1980, Mickey was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. During the 80s, Mickey took a break from the music business to concentrate on his growing family and golf. Stephen joined the family in 1983 and Laura was born in 1986. In the early 90s he started writing, recording, and performing again, encouraged by his friends Bob Rosemurgy and Owsley Mannier. In 1995, Mickeys health began to fail, but he continued to produce, and the years 1995 to 2002 were some of his most productive, a period during which he almost doubled his catalogue. He also directed his attention to other ventures, beginning work on children books based on his story-songs. On September 29, 2002, he succumbed to a longtime lung disease and passed away in his sleep. Mickey Newburys songs have been recorded by hundreds of artists; over 1,000 covers have been documented. Though he considered himself a songwriter first and singer second, Mickey recorded 25 albums over 35 years. Many of his peers consider him to be the best of the best. Kris Kristofferson says....God, I learned more about songwriting from Mickey than I did any other single human being. To me he was a songbird. He comes out with amazing words and music. I'm sure that I never would have written Bobby McGee or Sunday Morning Coming Down if I had never known Mickey. He was my hero and still is... Mickey's love was the music, not the business, and he actively campaigned for recognition of Americana music as early as the 1970s, when he tried to bring attention to Stephen Fosters work. Among his peers, Mickey is beloved and continues to be seen as a champion for the songwriter. Songs offered here are provided with full permission of his family and friends who maintain his MySpace website. |
"God, I learned more
about songwriting from Mickey than I did any other single human
being. To me he was a songbird. He comes out with amazing words
and music. I'm sure that I never would have written Bobby McGee
or Sunday Morning Coming Down if I had never known Mickey. He
was my hero and still is..." - Kris Kristofferson
"Hi, you probably
don't know me but my name is Mickey Newbury and I'd really like
to meet you."
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