The Power and Poignancy of a Simple Hello

In the community of Bryan-College Station, a place I love to call my very own Mayberry, there's a special significance about living here as your new home, and meeting people who have lived here all their lives. You'll spend about 30 years before you're no longer a newcomer (only because you have not met everyone yet), but after a while you start to recognize folks as you drive along Texas Avenue or Villa Maria, and you wave as you drive by, and you smile, and even roll down the car window and talk at red lights. It's a special place.

Everyone has opinions of their hometowns and neighborhoods, but my bias and fondness has developed over four decades of "growing up here," so if longevity is a criterion for validating my firmly held opinion, then I'll continue.

Opening today's edition of "The Eagle" online, my first thought was to check the obituaries. I saw the lovely photo of Mrs. Lou Presnal there and I just had to stop and stare. Could it be? I just saw her....and with that, my mind raced back to the last time I saw her. It was the same evening that I last saw Joe Hanover and it was at Bryan's Longhorn Tavern Steakhouse.

Now, please know that I did not know Mrs. Presnal personally at all, but for years I'd seen her when I attended an occasional early service at church. She and her husband, a beloved veterinarian, would enjoy the early service as many others did. I was generally a late service person, as was Joe, so you know how it goes. But she had an unmistakable gracious countenance about her. She was always dressed so neatly, everything in place, but in a way that was authentic. It was just who she was.

What was so poignant about the evening of March 31, 2017, was that I had a chance to witness a most special exchange of friendly words between two people who clearly had no idea that they would wind up greeting each other in Heaven (if you'll allow me my faith construct) just eight short weeks later. It was surreal.

This is how the evening went. I'd arrived early and was visiting with Joe Hanover's "42 Group" from Dallas that evening, and I went to the front door of Longhorn Tavern to greet Joe and Michelle. I spotted Lou and Sonny Presnal at the booth in Longhorn that had been a favorite of Netta and John Simek's all these years. I smiled when I saw them there, even if they didn't know me from Adam's off ox.

As Joe and Michelle made their way into the Longhorn, all the servers greeted "Mr. Hanover" by name and welcomed him. Seven beaming employees knew him well and loved him. When the business was owned and operated by Rita Whitley, Joe loved to tell the story about how she told him to "Park anywhere you want" and he did as she instructed.

These days, the second generation is running the business and doing a fine job of keeping crowds happy and fed without a lot of waiting. As Joe was greeted, he passed by the Presnal's table but there were many people behind him headed to the party room. I was the one closest to Mrs. Presnal at that point when she said, "Is that Joe Hanover? I must tell him hello! I'd heard he'd been in the hospital and I'm so glad he's here tonight!" She immediately excused herself from her dinner and went to shake his hand warmly, and she was joined by her husband as the three exchanged such beautiful pleasantries, old friends, church members together, likely the veterans of more than a few committees together. As she made her way back to her table, I couldn't help myself. I just had to say something to her. I don't recall introducing myself by name but what I said was, "Mrs. Presnal, you don't know me but I've seen you at a distance for years in church and I just have to say that you are one of the most classic beauties I've ever seen. You remind me somewhat of Princess Grace." And I said, "I just had to tell you that, and I'll let you get back to your evening." She was so modest and thanked me and I said, "You've always had a special countenance about you."

The joy on her face seeing Joe there that night was something hard to quantify. It was a supreme sense of joy I sensed about her, at seeing an old friend after a long time not having been in the same place at the same time. The only word I can offer is "magic." There was a sense of magic in the air. In a day and time when we all get so caught up in busy-ness, to be able to truly rejoice at the good fortune of our friends, like regained health, really left an impression on me.

I promptly forgot about that exchange until this morning, when I opened the paper and saw Mrs. Lou Presnal's obituary tribute. And then my mind flashed back to the fact that it was March 31, 2017 when I last saw Joe and I last saw Mrs. Presnal. What I did see was two old friends greeting each other with grace and dignity and such great regard and respect for one another in a fashion that it was exceptional to watch. Both so happy to see each other doing well. Neither one of them had a clue what the next eight weeks would bring. I had no way of knowing what the health statuses were, truly, of either party. Yet, rather than worrying about health, they were busy living life to the fullest.

Eight short weeks. To the day. We do not know what tomorrow brings. We cannot know. But I always want to remember their smiles when two longtime friends had the chance to see one another in good times. Somehow it's a safe guess that some 56 short days later, the reunion was even better the second time around.

It's a warm and friendly reminder that we need to make time for the things we want to do and the people we truly want to be with. And, as I sit in reflection today, eight weeks ago I think I saw the magic in a genuine "Hello, old friend" and how good it feels to have friends whom we are always delighted to see. Another life lesson in Panavision and Technicolor, courtesy of General Joe Hanover. God bless Joe, God bless Mrs. Presnal, and God bless our dear Mayberry, where people take the time to know you.

Musician, Blues Guitarist and “Rock Star” Gregg Allman Dead at Age 69

The inevitable passing of Gregg Allman on May 27th was coming; we all knew it. From tour cancellations to invasive music gossip, Gregg Allman’s body was shutting down, even when his heart for the music that kept him alive kept going. The impact of his life and career spanned one of the broadest ranges of people from all walks of life.

Photo credit: alchetron.com

As young man born in Nashville but growing up in Daytona Beach together with his brother Duane, as legend went, both were all-A students who also played football. Bright futures ahead of them, right? Maybe they’d go on to be doctors or lawyers, or—if they were very lucky—they’d grow up to be world-class musicians, beloved across five decades.

Music historians know all the details about Gregg’s and Duane’s life growing up, they know every song on every album and the inspiration behind so many of the songs. Many will undoubtedly be impacted by Gregg’s death as they fervently search for words to say what he and his music meant in their worlds. They are the experts, most qualified to speak to Gregg’s career and work. On the audience side of the music, however, southern rock is surely as popular as it remains today, in large measure on the shoulders of their earliest work. Any music lover who grew up in the 60s and 70s surely has at least three (or more) Allman Brothers’ albums in their collections.

It’s too simplistic to say that, in his lifetime, Duane was a first-call studio guitarist and touring great before a motorcycle accident would take his life. Gregg, the one left behind, grew to became a standout singer, organist, guitarist, and songwriter of rock classics. Neither of the brothers would choose a smooth path to fame.

Early successes in minor bands taught them the joys and benefits of touring (groupies, drugs, and unparalleled excess). A CNN report today quoted Gregg as saying, “My generation were heavy drug users,” Gregg Allman told the Daily Telegraph in 2011. “We didn’t know no different, we didn’t know no other way.” In an early interview, Gregg's plan, having lost his father at age 2, he and Duane were raised by their mother Geraldine ("Mama A"), was to graduate high school, play in bands for a few years to get it out of his system, and probably go to medical school to become a doctor. If he'd have put his mind to it, he could have been a great doctor.

The Allmans started their careers the exact same way as anyone else—playing in high school bands, and all the early versions of what would ultimately become The Allman Brothers Band. With each different band experience, they’d pick up musicians who’d ultimately join them for the rest of their music lives, three of whom were Butch Trucks, Dickey Betts, and Berry Oakley. Sadly, Oakley didn’t much outlive Duane, which takes us back to the life and living of The Allman Brothers Band.

Their 1969 self-titled debut album didn’t take the country by storm but it did increase their touring stock in the south. On “The Allman Brothers Album,” two of the best-known songs were “It’s Not My Cross to Bear” and “Whipping Post” and was classified as Blues and Southern rock.

“Idlewild South” (1970) contained three of my favorites of theirs: instrumentals “Revival,” and “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” and “Midnight Rider.”

Gregg wrote the song with help on lyrics from roadie Robert Kim Payne. Gregg’s voice didn’t help put “Midnight Rider” over the top anywhere for years, but others had greater success with the song and it was covered or recorded by everyone from Joe Cocker to Michael McDonald to Hank Williams, Jr. to Alison Krauss. Today it’s known as “The Allman Brothers Band’s most covered song.”

Historians recall that between 1971-1972, the “Eat a Peach” time frame, Duane, Berry Oakley and roadies Robert Payne and Red Dog Campbell entered rehab simultaneously for heroin addictions. And then on October 29, 1971, Duane died in Macon, Georgia in a motorcycle accident. Bandmate Oakley would die a year later, November 11, 1972, in a motorcycle accident, “three blocks from where Duane had his fatal accident.” The band members are “buried directly beside each other at Rose Hill Cemetery in Macon, Georgia.”

Their 1971 live album, “At Fillmore East,” featured “Statesboro Blues,” “Hot ‘Lanta” and “Stormy Monday” and the album would ultimately be inducted into the GRAMMY Hall of Fame in 1999. Two primary musical forces wouldn’t live to enjoy a career or the fame that would follow them the next four decades.

Skipping ahead to 1974, the music of the Allman Brothers flourished on the strength of the writing and playing of guitarist Dickey Betts and Gregg Allman. Betts often is identified as the glue that kept Gregg, and the band, moving forward after sustaining two losses.

In an entirely strange tangent straight out of Hollywood, newly named Billboard icon, Cher, divorced Sonny Bono and began dating Gregg. Meantime, Cher’s personal assistant and lifetime best friend, Paulette Eghiazarian began dating Dickey Betts. The story in a May 1977 People Magazine issue provides interesting backstory, if not the trials and tribulations of the Cher-Gregg-Paulette-Dickey tandem. Lots of screaming, yelling, men behaving badly, and southern rock going on.

If memory serves, at the time Cher became mesmerized by the intelligence and strong silent type that Gregg presented, I used to wonder what in the world she saw in Gregg. He mumbled, he shuffled, and he only seemed to show signs of life when on stage. Otherwise he was brooding. Guess she set her criteria as being “as far away from Sonny as you could get.” Mission accomplished.

Cher used to tell the story on numerous talk shows that on their first date, Gregg came over and thought he was “in for the evening” and proceeded to remove his cowboy boots to become more comfortable. Cher being Cher, never at the loss for words, she proceeded to cuss Gregg out, insisted he put his boots on and get out of her house. He did.

Ultimately, he proceeded to “court her” properly, to Cher’s satisfaction, if not amusement. Cher married “Southern gentleman” Gregg about three weeks after her divorce from was finalized and Paulette married Dickey. Betts’ compositions did carry the band forward, particularly on the strength of “Southbound,” “Ramblin’ Man” and “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed,” essentially the core of the 1976 “Wipe the Windows, Check the Oil, Dollar Gas” album.

Cher and Gregg photo from Pinterest; Dickey and Paulette photo from JVB Photography, Pinterest

Both strong women were credited for bringing the southern wild men out of a self-destructive path and into some kind of calm, for however long it lasted. Before they broke up for the final time, Cher gave birth to a child with Gregg, Elijah Blue, who began touring with Gregg almost as soon as he was old enough to do so. Elijah is one of Gregg’s five children he leaves behind.

Elijah Allman image from Heavy.

Son Devon Allman founded the band Honeytribe; he’s co-leader of the Royal Southern Brotherhood band as well as a solo artist.

Robert Randolph and Devon Allman; Photo Credit: Getty Images

Daughters Delilah Island Kurtom and Layla Brooklyn Allman survive him, as does eldest son, Michael Sean Allman, who is virtually his image remade.

Of his five children, “four are professional musicians (Delilah is not).” Gregg was also survived by his wife, Shannon.

All the love, the romances, the marriages, and the throes of “normal daily life” weren’t sufficient to keep Gregg away from the music business or the temptations of the weariness that comes from perpetual road tours.

Gregg Allmann Photo credit: Getty image

Ultimately, drug abuse and attempts at rehab put his body through a lot of torture, but the music kept him going. Although Gregg’s appearance at the end of his life showed a shell of the once robust man who loved making music, the point was you just couldn’t keep him off the road; he attributed the band’s success to the faithfulness of the fans.

In all, The Allman Brothers band featured 19 members; they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995; “Rolling Stone ranked them 52nd on their list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time in 2004,” and they received seven gold and four platinum albums out of their 18 releases—live and studio recordings. The band made household names of Jaimoe Johanson, Butch Trucks (later Derek Trucks), Chuck Leavell, in addition to Duane, Gregg, and Dickey and others who true fans can name without thinking. The number of living legends we’ve lost, as those of us who “grew up together” with the household names of rock and blues know well, has just increased by one today.

The song for the final ride home tonight, if I get to pick just one, is from 1973: “Will the Circle be Unbroken”

and the matching version from 2014, as Gregg was surrounded by a “few friends.”

Rest in peace, at last, Gregg, and thanks for all your music.

Photo from Allman Brothers Twitter page