They Came to Nashville

Prologue

    1 Prologue The night I met Billy Joe Shaver, my hair caught on fire. I kid you not. The year was 1971. The place was Nashville, Tennessee. We were all at a party at Jack and Liz Williams’s house. Jack and Liz were a couple of expatriate songwriters from Texas, part of a vibrant underground Nashville music scene. (Jack went on to fame and fortune starring in the original Broadway production of Sweeney Todd. Liz was the first female songwriter I ever met.) The party was your typical early ’70s party, with lots of smoke, beer, laughter, and music. You just never knew who might show up. I was standing in the living room, minding my own business, when someone approached me with this cowboy-looking guy. “Hey, Marshall! Meet Billy Joe Shaver. Billy’s a songwriter from Texas.” Actually, I wasn’t standing. Leaning would be a more accurate de­ scription. I was leaning against the mantelpiece in the living room where—unbeknownst to me—several sunken candles were burning. Even though I was in a semi-altered state, I vividly recall this encounter . Because no sooner had this person said, “Hi, Marshall! Meet Billy Joe Shaver,” than Billy Joe’s usually crinkly eyes became big as saucers. Like he’d just seen a ghost. And in that instant, I heard a faint crackling sound, followed by the unmistakable smell of burning human hair. It wasn’t until people started shouting and beating me about the head that I realized my hair was on fire. As it turned out, I lost about a third in the back, leaving a crater of charred split ends from hell. I’ve been told this was Billy Joe’s first night in Nashville. But even if it wasn’t, I’m sure something equally bizarre transpired. That’s just the way it is here in Music City USA. Because Nashville is a music center —like London, New York, Austin, and Los Angeles—it has always 2   They Came to Nashville been a magnet for dreamers, iconoclasts, poets, pickers, and prophets from all over. I’ve lived here forty years and can count on one hand the number of natives I’ve met. It’s true. The great majority of us are from somewhere else. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about this—why anyone would pick up and leave everything they’ve ever known to pursue a dream. What were they looking for? What were they running away from? What did they imagine would happen? When you’re young, you don’t think about it. You just do it. Now that I’m older, whenever I think back to the young girl I was—inexperienced but ready, innocent, wild, and full of dreams—I’m amazed at the energy and gumption it took to pursue this path I’ve chosen. Over the past few years, whenever I’ve found myself at a dinner party or just kicking back with artist/musician friends, I can’t help it. I start asking all sorts of questions, encouraging them to talk about what brought them to Nashville. These are the stories. ...