Eddy Arnold, Mom and me

My mother used to joke that she would pack her bags and leave us in a heartbeat, if Eddy Arnold asked her.

At least I think she was kidding.

Eddy was her favorite singer of all time -- with an occasional exception for Ray Price when he sang Crazy Arms. It had something to do with the tuxedo he wore like a second skin, that baritone voice that Dinah Shore memorably described as "warm butter and syrup poured over wonderful buttermilk pancakes," and the lush, Sinatraesque violins he added to traditional country music, becoming a successful crossover act before crossover was cool.

The news this week that Eddy died at age 89 deeply saddened her. When Mama's not happy, nobody's happy.

When we get together for Mothers Day dinner today (yes, it's Saturday but that's how Persalls roll) I'll probably sing a few lines from Turn the World Around or Make the World Go Away into her ear while I'm hugging her. I'm sure we'll reminisce about the two occasions when we went to see Eddy in concert.

The first time was when we lived in Alabama and I was about 12 years old. We drove an hour to Birmingham for the show, stopping beforehand at an appliance store so I could get one of those new-fangled cassette player/recorders that seemed like something from a Jules Verne novel at the time. I got an eight-pack of blank tapes, Dionne Warwick's greatest hits (my initiation to the wonders of Burt Bacharach) and Eddy's, too.

That night, I carried the shoebox-sized contraption into the theater, planning to capture the concert for later replays. "Bootlegging" only referred to 'shine in Alabama at the time, so it didn't seem like a big deal.

The show was classy, as I recall, and so was Eddy afterward, sitting at a table signing autographs for anyone standing in line long enough. Of course, we did. When we reached Eddy, I placed the cassette recorder and its plug-in microphone on the table while shaking his hand. Eddy asked what that thing was, so I told him, proudly adding that I was able to record his show. He looked a bit concerned.

"Umm, how about you taking that over to my manager and tell him what it is," I recall him saying, pointing to someone that I immediately sensed I didn't want eye contact with. Okay, I said, grabbing the recorder before anyone else had a mind to, tucking it under both arms and heading for the exit. I felt like I'd just robbed a Brink's truck but did it for Mom.

Later, I discovered just how lacking the technology was, straining to listen to Eddy's show through a tiny, single speaker and hearing mostly applause between muffled melodies. I never tried listening to the concert again but I don't doubt for a second that my pack rat mother still has it stored somewhere. I know I threw away the recorder after the next big breakthrough -- 8-track tapes -- became the rage.

About 20 years ago, I was writing for Players magazine, a local music/entertainment rag, when news came that Eddy Arnold would appear at the old Bayfront Center a few days after Mom's birthday. Somehow I wrangled a couple tickets and, even better, after-show backstage passes so she could meet him again without the long line or rushed greeting. I kidded her that I wouldn't be the one telling Dad if she decided to not come home.

Eddy was gentlemanly as expected, Mom was thrilled as planned and I didn't bring up the recording incident during our conversation in case the statute of limitations hadn't expired. After all the celebrity brushes I've had over the years, that one remains special, especially now.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom. Rest in peace, Eddy.

Comments

[william C.Shoop]

Eddy Arnold was a national treasure.Sent from above to lighten our load.He did this through his god given talents .With a superb baritone and infectious laugh he stole our heats.My mother loved him too.We would have to fight over who loved him more.We both met him.A very kind man.
I was honored to see President Clinton present him a National Medal Of The arts.