residents of Memphis’s poorest black neighborhoods reminded Cash of a lot of the people in Dyess. He noticed particularly how they remained hopeful in the face of overwhelming economic odds and how music seemed to help lift their spirits. In almost every house he heard music coming from the radio—usually blues and gospel artists. He enjoyed the sounds, and he began listening to more black music on the radio. It was another significant step in building his musical vision. He was starting to weave together lots of rootsy influences. One of his favorites was Sister Rosetta Tharpe, a black gospel singer who’d grown up only about fifty miles from Dyess. John had been loosely following Tharpe’s career for years, admiring the way she mixed gospel themes with a rollicking, high-energy blues style—as on “Strange Things Happening Every Day.” In time, he learned that she took spiritual music into nightclubs and dance halls, not just churches and stately auditoriums—something he hoped to do one day.
On one of his daily sales rounds, he came across an elderly man strumming his guitar on his front porch. Cash walked up to him and said he sure liked the music. The man invited John to sit down, and he kept on playing blues tunes for the better part of an hour. He even boasted about how they carried his records at the Home of the Blues shop on Beale Street. At first Cash didn’t believe him, but the man went into the house and came back with a 78-rpm single with his name on it: Gus Cannon.
Born in the Mississippi Delta, Cannon was in his early twenties when he moved to Memphis around 1907. He began recording in the late 1920s and fronted a jug band for years. One of the group’s songs, “Walk Right In,” would become a folk-pop hit in the 1960s when recorded by the Rooftop Singers. Cannon had been retired since the late 1930s. Cash came back a few days later with his guitar, and the men played a few tunes together. Then John resumed his door-knocking for Home Equipment. Because of that black music, Cash started going to the Home of the Blues himself, looking for records by Sister Tharpe and others. On his tight budget, he couldn’t afford actually to buy anything, but he enjoyed being around the records, and he liked to listen to the customers talk about their favorite artists.
Most days, he spent much of his time at home listening to the radio to keep up with what his favorite singers were doing. He and Vivian also took walks in the park and drove to Roy’s house, where they were always welcome. Roy knew how difficult it was to get going financially, so he helped John and Vivian in lots of subtle ways. He and his wife had them over for dinner often, and when he went to buy clothes, he took John along, making sure to buy his younger brother at least a shirt or some socks.
On Sundays, John and Vivian frequently traveled to Dyess for some of Carrie’s country cooking, which was one thing John had missed greatly in Germany. Years later he would still speak about a “craving in his bones” for that Southern food. The one thing he did develop a taste for in Germany was large wiener sausages, which in turn left him a lifelong fan of hot dogs. Over the years, he developed a private list of favorite hot dog stands or shops around the country and invariably stopped by for a dog or two when he was in the area. At one point, after the money was flowing in, he even thought of opening his own hot dog chain, but calmer heads prevailed. Johnny Cash would never be known as a good businessman.
III
Marshall liked the “Hey, Porter” poem, but it was just a poem. How were they going to turn it into a song? They thought about taking the melody of some old song and putting the words to it, which was a common practice in country, folk, and blues music. John had done it on the songs he fiddled with in Germany. But they couldn’t think of anything that worked with “Hey, Porter,” so they tried to make up a tune themselves. They
On one of his daily sales rounds, he came across an elderly man strumming his guitar on his front porch. Cash walked up to him and said he sure liked the music. The man invited John to sit down, and he kept on playing blues tunes for the better part of an hour. He even boasted about how they carried his records at the Home of the Blues shop on Beale Street. At first Cash didn’t believe him, but the man went into the house and came back with a 78-rpm single with his name on it: Gus Cannon.
Born in the Mississippi Delta, Cannon was in his early twenties when he moved to Memphis around 1907. He began recording in the late 1920s and fronted a jug band for years. One of the group’s songs, “Walk Right In,” would become a folk-pop hit in the 1960s when recorded by the Rooftop Singers. Cannon had been retired since the late 1930s. Cash came back a few days later with his guitar, and the men played a few tunes together. Then John resumed his door-knocking for Home Equipment. Because of that black music, Cash started going to the Home of the Blues himself, looking for records by Sister Tharpe and others. On his tight budget, he couldn’t afford actually to buy anything, but he enjoyed being around the records, and he liked to listen to the customers talk about their favorite artists.
Most days, he spent much of his time at home listening to the radio to keep up with what his favorite singers were doing. He and Vivian also took walks in the park and drove to Roy’s house, where they were always welcome. Roy knew how difficult it was to get going financially, so he helped John and Vivian in lots of subtle ways. He and his wife had them over for dinner often, and when he went to buy clothes, he took John along, making sure to buy his younger brother at least a shirt or some socks.
On Sundays, John and Vivian frequently traveled to Dyess for some of Carrie’s country cooking, which was one thing John had missed greatly in Germany. Years later he would still speak about a “craving in his bones” for that Southern food. The one thing he did develop a taste for in Germany was large wiener sausages, which in turn left him a lifelong fan of hot dogs. Over the years, he developed a private list of favorite hot dog stands or shops around the country and invariably stopped by for a dog or two when he was in the area. At one point, after the money was flowing in, he even thought of opening his own hot dog chain, but calmer heads prevailed. Johnny Cash would never be known as a good businessman.
III
Marshall liked the “Hey, Porter” poem, but it was just a poem. How were they going to turn it into a song? They thought about taking the melody of some old song and putting the words to it, which was a common practice in country, folk, and blues music. John had done it on the songs he fiddled with in Germany. But they couldn’t think of anything that worked with “Hey, Porter,” so they tried to make up a tune themselves. They
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