Thursday - March 11, 2010

A LIFE REMEMBERED AND A GOOD FRIEND STILL MISSED AFTER ALL THIS TIME. BARRY SADLER.

I believe there was a time when a guy could describe his feelings for a good friend with the use of the word “love.” This would be someone he was close to (but not too much mind you).  Happily we could say so without fear of being thought of as,, you know. To use the common expression of my bygone day, queer.  Use the ‘L’ word these days and you’re sure to draw odd looks.

As one who has always been in awe of real talent, as I understand that term, there were many people I admired greatly.  I viewed some artists (mostly musicians)
in a god like way. I was depressed beyond measure for example when Gene Krupa died.  The same with Benny Goodman and I was totally devastated when Jack Benny passed away.

When those I knew personally and had almost daily contact with passed from the scene, the pain was on a par with the passing of a parent.

Such were my feelings for the late Al ‘Jazzbeaux’ Collins, a man of immense talent who guided my initial radio career. My self appointed mentor and radio guru.  The best damn Jazz DJ that ever was, and one of the very best radio personalities ever to sit behind a microphone spinning disks on air in major markets from NY to L.A.

I still mourn his passing and that of Royce Kendall, (one half of the duo, The Kendalls) one of the nicest and kindest gentlemen I’ve known.  As great as they all were, I’ve discovered that what I might mourn as much as their physical passing, is the loss to the world and me personally, of their unique talent.  So maybe it’s talent I worship more then the person, which is not saying I didn’t have great feelings for all. 

Well, the person I want to write about here was something of a standout. Besides Al Collins, he was the only other male I had ever bonded with.  He was, Barry Sadler.

Better known as Green Beret, Sgt.Barry Sadler. Songwriter (The Ballad of the Green Beret) and singer. And teller of great jokes. He was a good friend and a great talent.

Those who knew him either feared him, thought ill of him, or loved him.  Obviously I fall into that last category.

Barry Sadler was a man of many talents.  Historian, weapons expert, story teller with a gift for mimicracy and author of books that are still selling today as I write this.

Nobody could tell jokes like him, often in dialect.  He was a wonderful character and I know many were frightened of him because he shot and killed Lee Emerson, another writer.  He was cleared as it appeared to be self-defense. Even if it hadn’t been self-defense, it would have made no difference to me. Barry said it was self defense and that was enough for me.  I looked up to him, he was one of the very few heroes I ever had. 

We spent time at the bar in the Hall of Fame hotel on Music Row Nashville. I didn’t drink. Barry did, often times too much. But he was so damn funny. Not his books however. There was nothing funny about those. They were violent mostly but well plotted.

One of the books I favored a lot was, “Nashville With a Bullet” (the term bullet in the music industry, indicates a song is hot and getting airtime and one to watch. They are usually hyped but not always. The term was invented by promoter Charlie Lamb. A song placement on the Billboard charts and the expression “in Billboard (or Cashbox) With a Bullet” came into use.) Coming from radio as I had, and at the time I knew Barry I was working in Nashville, everything in that book was quite familiar. 

His books are still selling but most in demand is the CASCA series. They are selling at premium prices on Amazon among collectors.  He even has a fan club here in Britain, where his books sell as well.
Should you want proof of that, check out Barry Sadler, CASCA books at Amazon USA or UK and see what they’re selling for.  And these are not large books btw. They are thin paperbacks bringing prices equal to new hardback books. Barry would laugh to see the prices people are paying. 

When I told a friend who was a decorated ex Marine that I personally knew Barry Sadler, he asked me to introduce him as Barry was a hero to him as well. So I did. When my friend proudly told Barry that he was once in the Marines, Barry looked him straight in the eye and with a serious expression said, “I tried to enlist in the Marines before I got in the Army. But they rejected me.” They rejected YOU? My friend asked in great surprise. “WHY?” And with a straight face Barry said to him, “Because I can read.” Oh god, I was on the floor. I felt bad for my friend, but that was Barry Sadler. The eternal joker.

Sadly, there was another Barry Sadler as well. The warrior who couldn’t sheathe his sword. If there was fighting somewhere, Barry had to go. Oddly, he got involved in helping a children’s hospital and bringing in supplies to them and raising money for them. A lot of it his own. This was in Guatemala, where things finally caught up with him.

We’re not sure how. Some say it was a robbery in Guatemala, others point the finger at some shadowy hit for hire and others say it was a grudge carried out by some enemy. I guess we’ll never really know for certain how anyone ever got the drop on Barry Sadler. Someone else even suggested that a drunk Barry might have shot himself accidentally.  Most of us don’t believe he could have been sober for it to happen the way it did. I still miss Barry. It’s not true that anyone is replaceable. That’s the disadvantage of having heroes. They let you down one-way or another, by being mortal and dying when all the time you thought they were gods.

Before he left for that last trip, I recall our conversation and all but begged him not to go. I told him I thought he was pushing his luck, that every time he went over he increased the chance of never coming back. And from a purely selfish view I told him, I couldn’t replace a friend like him. Ever!

His reply was one I’ll always remember. He said, “Hey Jay, how would it look if one day you picked up a paper and read that Sgt. Barry Sadler died because he got run over by a bus? Wouldn’t you feel better if you knew I went out in a firefight?” I said, “Hell No Barry. I don’t want you to die period. You croak and I lose a friend I can’t replace.” He laughed, we parted and I never saw him alive again.

I played Taps on my silver Bach trumpet when he died , and never played it again.  I haven’t been able to re-read any of his books either.

-30-

Posted by peiper     on 03/11/2010 at 11:18 AM   
Filed Under: • Blog Stuff • Personal • USA •  
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