Reviewing an Obituary

           I'm 80 now, and just like all the other 80-year-olds, I read more obituaries than I used to.  The old joke is that I read the daily obits just to see if my name appears.  I remember too that an editor I once worked for when I was writing movie reviews for a newspaper in New Jersey told me that everyone makes the paper twice in his life, when he is born and when he dies.  

           And so I recently read the obituary on rock 'n' roll's Jerry Lee Lewis, who died on October 29.  His fame came from the outrageous music he exploded back in the late 1950s, when I was a teenager and enthralled with the new rock music that came blasting out of my AM car radio--whenever my dad would let me have the family car for a few hours.

          In 1957 Lewis released two songs that instantly crept into my teenage psyche, "Great Balls of Fire" and "Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On."  And now, after a lifetime of scandalous music and a more scandalous personal life, the Killer, as he liked to call himself, has died at 87.  

          It's been years since I thought at all about the Killer, my own growth in music having long ago morphed from Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, and Little Richard to the killer B's:  Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms.  But that transition was very slow, and even today I occasionally long for the Doo Wop sounds of my younger years.  Adolescence pulls us back now and then no matter what age we reach.

          The obit I read on Lewis was written by Hillel Italie for the Associated Press.  I didn't think anyone could capture Lewis in 750 words, but I was wrong, stunningly wrong, because Italie wrote what may be the most perfect obituary ever written.  Okay, that's probably overstated, but you get the idea:  this is an essay students should read to learn how to write.  It's a brilliant piece.

          The Killer's music, Italie wrote, was not the "tender" ballads cherished by old folks.  No, no, "Lewis was all about lust and gratification with his leering tenor and demanding asides, violent tempos and brash glissandi, cocky sneer and crazy blond hair.  He was a one-man stampede."  What a great capture, a "one-man stampede."  Brilliant.

          But then came the personal scandal that dragged him down and out of the public favor:  while touring in England in 1958, he  married his 13-year-old cousin.  Bad enough, but he was at the time already married.  They remained together until the early 1970s before they divorced.  All told, the Killer was married seven times, and as Italie reports, "he was rarely far from trouble or death."

          Though he left a lean collection of memorable songs, " Italie concluded," they were enough to ensure his place as a rock 'n' roll architect."  Again, "architect" is the perfect word, another brilliant capture.

          Thanks to You Tube I was able to fish out some early Killer classics.  There's even a concert sequence from the movie made of his life, Great Balls of Fire! with Dennis Quaid and Winona Ryder.  Sweet stuff to read and re-experience--all brought back to me by Hillel Italie, a friend I've never met.

Jerry Lee Lewis - Great Balls Of Fire! (1957)

Jerry Lee Lewis - Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On (Steve Allen Show - 1957)