Like Me (25 page)

One of the many calls that came in was from Fox’s
Sean Hannity Show
. I was asked if I would come to New York and be on the show.

My good friend Jan Volz snapped this photograph of me after sound check in front of a really big, genuine cloth American flag that hung on a base in Kuwait. It would later become the cover for the CD single of the song “Bumper of My S.U.V.” 2004
.

Since Sean had invited me, and many other television and radio shows were also requesting that I appear on their programs, I headed to New York for a week of press. I was happy to share stories of my trips to see the troops, which was the focus of all of the interviews.

I love to do interviews. I’m not into giving an answer that will cause an awkward moment on the air just for the sake of being adversarial; some people are into shock value, but I am not. Nevertheless, I do my best to be contemplative and honest when I’m asked a question.

I was looking forward to being on Sean Hannity’s show. Most
everyone knows that he has a television program on the Fox News Channel, but he also has a popular syndicated radio program. I was told that I’d be on with him for most of that day’s radio show, and I was hopeful that we’d be able to cover a lot of ground. I had so much I wanted to share about my most recent trip to the Middle East and the song “Bumper of My S.U.V.”

My fan club and Web site were being deluged with letters from people who had heard the song. They were sharing with me personal, detailed, and emotional stories of what the song meant to them and how it was affecting their lives. The response was overwhelming, and I was looking forward to sharing the experience with Sean and his listeners. Although Sean’s show has a talk-show format, he had been playing my record for a couple of weeks and had shared with me before my trip to New York that it was a smash and was definitely resonating with his listeners. This is the perfect way to walk into a radio interview—with a hit record, a supportive host, and a fan base that wants to hear the story. Sean was charming, had his facts and figures correct, and did what a cream-of-the-crop journalist does—he informs and entertains.

During the first few segments of the show, we discussed my family’s military history, my many trips overseas, and how the song “Bumper of My S.U.V.” came to be written. We also talked about how the song eventually got recorded and how it ended up being played on the radio. He praised the song and went on and on about how he’d never played a record on his show before that had lit up the phone lines the way my song did. I was touched by his compliments about my time spent with the troops and his genuine admiration for the song.

We took calls live on the air from his listeners, who had been jamming the phone lines. I recall that a couple of the callers who actually got through were guys that I’d performed for while they were deployed.

Then it was time for a commercial break. While the advertisements ran, Sean and I continued to talk and share stories. He mentioned to me that he hosts an annual event called the Hannity Freedom Concerts and suggested that I come play at one of the shows. He had hosted the event for a few years, and he was now having several concerts across the nation. He said that his audience loved “Bumper of My S.U.V.” so much when he played it on his radio program that it would be a thrill for them if I were able to come sing it live at his Freedom Concert. I said that I would love to be a part of his concert event.

We came back from the commercial break and Sean said something to the effect of my being a “good conservative, Republican country music singer.” I laughed and corrected him, saying that I was not a Republican, and he seemed shocked. He asked me if I was a supporter of George W. Bush. I explained to him that I was, indeed, in support of George Bush—because Bush was the president of the United States and whether or not I voted for him was irrelevant. My point was that since he was, at that time, the president, I was in support of him but that I didn’t necessarily agree with all of his policies.

Live on the radio, I told Sean that I had a couple of pretty significant problems with George W. Bush. Sean asked me specifically what those problems were. He only gave me a chance to talk about one of my issues with the president, and I’m glad that I led with the one I did. I told him that I thought the fact that the president allows gays to be discriminated against in the process of adopting children is disgraceful. And that I thought the policy of leaving such matters for individual states to decide is passiveaggressive, negligent, and transparently hateful. I went on to tell Sean that I liken the president’s stance to that of a hate crime.

Sean exhaled and made a dismissive comment that suggested I didn’t know what I was talking about. We went to another commercial break, and that was the end of the interview. Sean’s a pro, and once we were off the air, we did the customary
salutations and he made no mention of my opinion about gay adoption.

I had a great time that week in New York. I also went down to Washington, D.C., for a day to do more interviews. I came to know another journalist, named Tony Snow, during that time and I was a guest on his radio show as well. Tony and I hit it off, and I feel lucky to have had a nice friendship with him in the years that followed. We saw each other on occasion, had lunch, attended the same events from time to time, but mostly we kept up with each other by e-mail.

I found Tony to be one of the more reasonable people in his field, and although we certainly did not agree on most things regarding politics, we did agree that there was a need for more civilized, informed discussions in the world. I received a note from Tony before he lost his fight with cancer. He said, “My friend, I’m listening to your CD today. Keep on keepin’ on.” I had a heavy heart the day Tony died.

A few weeks after my appearance on Sean Hannity’s radio show, I was scheduled to head back to New York City to appear on the
Hannity & Colmes
television show on Fox News.

The show’s taping was scheduled for evening, and I believe that my segment of singing and the brief interview was to be shown during the next night’s program. I did a quick sound check, sang my song, and then was seated between Sean and Alan to do the sit-down interview. I’m not sure if Sean was pushing me or if I was pushing him, but we quickly came to a point at which we were “sparring” a bit. It was in good fun, I thought, but perhaps it wasn’t the kind of banter that they’d hoped for. Maybe Sean relies on his country music friends to be well-behaved Republicans and to side with him on the issues.

My opinions on the few issues we did discuss that night put me more in line with the thinking of the left-leaning host, Alan Colmes. I did my best to inject humor into the situation. After all, I’m not a political analyst, a policymaker, or a professional in
the field of politics. I wasn’t combative or looking to be adversarial. I’m not certain what happened after I left the Fox News studios that night or the next day, but that segment never aired on the Fox News Network. Furthermore, I have never heard from Sean Hannity again. I don’t wonder why.

I
met John Rich at Opryland in 1990. We performed in the
Country Music USA
show for several years together. Dean Sams, another cast member, started a band during that time, called Lonestar, and asked John to join his band. Lonestar and I would eventually land our first record contracts around the same time. After years of hit records and touring, the band made a change and replaced John. Lonestar’s fame continued to rise and they celebrated even more success. John was trying new things and had hopes of having a career as a solo artist. He and I wrote a couple of songs together while he was trying to get his next record contract.

I headed out on the road for a year or so and didn’t see or talk to John for a while, but when I did make it back to town, I caught up on the latest Music Row news. I learned that John and his pal Big Kenny had started a duo called Big and Rich. I thought that was clever and seemed to make sense. They really were friends and collaborators, and that type of situation usually works best for a band or duo dynamic. It has a better chance of being successful if it is authentic.

I also heard that John and Big Kenny had created a club made up of unique performers, mostly musicians, who were banding together to support one another’s art. They were calling themselves
the Muzik Mafia. Initially, they would gather at a club, play music, and hang out. The members were artists who’d been kicking around the Row for a while but for one reason or another hadn’t had their big break.

They had a mantra: “Love Everybody.” I liked the idea, in theory. John was the only one of the bunch that I knew. “Love Everybody”? I never bought into it, at least not from John. I believe the others in the club operated in the spirit of their mantra, but I knew John too well. John does not love everybody. It was always my opinion that John was exploiting certain people and capitalizing on the hopes and good intentions of others. The Muzik Mafia was all anyone talked about for a couple of years, and when asked about it, I was diplomatic in my response, if I commented at all. I was invited a couple of times to go to their parties, but it wasn’t difficult for me not to show up; I could get away easily by blaming it on my schedule.

John and I made plans to get together one night in March 2005. We were both working near Music Row and when I finished my work, I headed over to Blackbird Studio, where he was working. I made small talk with a couple of the guys up front, then made my way back to the room where John and Big Kenny were mixing. They played a couple of tracks they were working on and I was excited by the music. One of the songs was called “Holy Water” and I thought it was a stand-out track.

John had just bought a new house ten minutes away and he asked me if I would go over and see it. I would never ask a friend to come to my house. Julia was there, and as a general rule we just didn’t bring people into our home. I accepted John’s invitation, and as we left Blackbird I headed to my car. Before I could get in it, John asked me to ride with him. I’ve always avoided riding with people. I never know what someone has had to drink, and I tend to feel kidnapped. I like to exit a place when I want to leave, not when someone gets around to giving me a ride. John
asked me again to ride in his new Corvette that Chevrolet had given him. I’m not interested in cars, but John was proud of it. “All right,” I said. “I’ll ride in your ‘look-at-me-I’m-a-star’ car.”

John drove too fast and too recklessly for my liking, but we arrived safely at his house. He showed me around with great excitement, and I loved seeing my old friend in a brand-new place. There is something cool about having started out with someone at the same time, being starving artists together, and then seeing each other enjoy success.

At John’s home we watched basketball, drank cold beer, played guitars, and talked about our current and future projects. After the game, I told John it was time for me to head back to my car. He asked if I wanted to drive his car and I laughed and said no. We were back on the other side of town in just a few minutes and as we pulled into Blackbird’s parking lot, John said, “Can I ask you a question?”

With great trepidation I said, “Yes.”

“You know, people talk about you,” he said. “They wonder if you’re, you know, gay or something like that.” He wasn’t asking me a question, and I just sat there and tried not to show my panic. “You know, that’s not cool, if you’ve chosen to live that kind of lifestyle. Fans won’t have it. This industry won’t allow it. This is country music. It’s about God and country and family. People don’t approve of that kind of deviant behavior. It’s a sin.”

He wasn’t looking at me. He was fidgeting with buttons and knobs on the dashboard. I was staring out his windshield, looking at the back of my vehicle, wishing I were in it and driving away from this conversation. John seemed to be okay with my nonresponse and just kept on with his rant. I’d heard John say disparaging things about gays before, but now he was directing those words at me, and I was rattled.

He said he felt strongly that the speculation that I might be
gay had damaged my career and that it was critical that I clear up the rumor. “I can help you. I’m in a great spot right now. Warner Brothers has basically written me a blank check to make any record I want, but I can’t help you out if you don’t take care of this crap.”

I’d never implied that I needed or wanted John’s help.

“The fans and radio love you,” he said. “You could be a lot bigger than you are right now, but you gotta hit this gay thing head-on. You need to take out a press release or something and clear it up, let everybody know that you’re not gay.” I let out a nervous and defensive burst of air. He turned toward me in his driver’s seat.

“You’re not gay, are you?”

I took a deep breath and said, “No, John, I’m not gay.”

“Good!” he said.

I told him that I needed to go. I got in my car and drove home. I was shaking and felt lightheaded. As I drove toward my house in West Nashville I was overcome with frustration and sadness. My situation was getting more and more difficult. Until that night I had never actually been put in a position that caused me to have to answer yes or no about my sexuality. Until that night I had never directly lied about it. I was ashamed of myself—not for being gay but for lying. I wondered just how complex my life would become, how much energy it was going to take to maneuver in my new level of dishonesty.