Dropping that disdain for Denver

To this day, no one is really sure what Charlie Rich was thinking. Rich had been voted the Country Music Association's Entertainer of the Year in 1974, and the next year, was presenting the same award on live television. For reasons known only to him — or maybe not, he acknowledged afterward that he was hammered — Rich opened the envelope, pulled out a lighter and set it on fire. Then, he said the title went to "my friend, John Denver." Denver wasn't at the event — he gave an acceptance speech via satellite, completely unaware of what had occurred. To those who don't like Denver or his music, the story has become legendary, a story of a traditionalist standing up against a pop-influenced country wannabe. Of course, Rich was about as traditional country as Denver was, but it hasn't hurt the story. It was even re-told for comic effect in the 2001 film "Super Troopers." Disdain for Denver has been widespread in popular culture. Comedian Denis Leary said that one of his great regrets was never getting to punch Denver in the face. On an episode of "The Simpsons," Mr. Burns tells the titular family that the house they are in "was the setting of satanic rituals, witch burnings, and five John Denver Christmas specials." "Ohh," Homer says with a shudder. "John Denver." OK, that last one always makes me laugh. But last week, my father texted me and reminded me that it was the 24th anniversary of Denver's death from a plane crash. A chill of sadness came over me. I didn't always advertise it, but this is the truth: I loved John Denver's music. "Rocky Mountain High" is not only one of my favorite songs, but one of my favorite albums. To this day, "Take Me Home, Country Roads" always brings a smile. And tracks like "Annie's Song," "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" and "Sunshine on My Shoulders" continue to inspire. Looking back, Denver is a big reason that I started playing guitar. While my friends were picking up acoustics in the late '90s to learn Dave Matthews songs, I was trying to learn Denver's "Prisoners" on my six string. I think much of the antipathy toward Denver came from a couple of things. The first may have been jealousy. How many artists, in any decade, have as much success as Denver did in the 1970s? The other reason may have been Denver's attitude. Musicians, especially successful musicians, are expected to be aloof and humorless. Denver was more than willing to ham it up with The Muppets, or star in campy variety specials, or adopt "far out" as his catchphrase. He was always smiling in the 1970s, always acting like he was elated to be wherever he was. So that made him ripe for jokes, especially later in his life when his career was in decline. Then, Denver was gone. I still remember where I was, riding to school, when the news came over the radio. I just stared at my brother in shock. Twenty four years later, I'm just sad. Denver wasn't exactly a hot act when he died in 1997. But there's little doubt in my mind that he would have been again. After all, Fleetwood Mac — another '70s pop sensation — just had their biggest grossing tour ever. As time passes, people long to hear the songs and see the acts they enjoyed when they were younger. And they'll pay plenty to do so. But I think with Denver, it goes deeper than that. A few years ago, I was in Shelby covering a girls district basketball game. During halftime, "Take Me Home, Country Roads" played. The Buckeye Central student section — all of which were born years after Denver's death — sang along. The same thing happens every week at college football games. West Virginia University plays the song after every win, as thousands of students, alumni and fans join in with the chorus. The Baltimore Orioles play "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" after every seventh inning stretch. And "Rocky Mountain High" is essentially Colorado's state song. Had Denver lived, I think he'd have seen the truth. People adored his music, and will enjoy it forever. It would have been a beautiful thing. And that's no joke. Baker is sports editor for The Courier and the Fostoria Review Times.