Beach Boy for a day

 

I finally got to hang out with the Beach Boys, well, two of them anyway. Mike Love, who co-founded the group with his cousins Brian, Dennis and Carl Wilson in 1961, owns the name “Beach Boys,” and was lead singer on many of the group’s classic hits. These days, he tours with Bruce Johnston (who joined the group in 1965) and some younger guys, still keeping the summer alive after 57 years of surf and sand.

Recently, en route to their Chattanooga show at the Tivoli Theater, Mike Love stopped by WFLI to help dedicate the National Top 40 Radio Museum, housed in the historic radio station. Several radio enthusiasts led by Ringgold attorney Marshall Bandy, and Trenton broadcaster Evan Stone (co-owners of WFLI) have filled the old radio station with memorabilia to celebrate the radio stations and deejays who played the classic hits of the vinyl 45 era.

The radio station/museum is located on a narrow, two-lane residential street, a bit tight for a tour bus. It was my job to retrieve Mike Love from the bus, take him to the radio station, get him in and out within an hour, and then deliver him to the theater downtown for his performance.

Love’s touring Beach Boys are on the road constantly. Despite their relatively advanced age for the rock ‘n roll lifestyle (Love is 77, Johnston is 75), they maintain a schedule that would wear out men half their age. The Chattanooga show followed two straight nights in Nashville, followed by several more nights in other Tennessee cities, then into Ohio.

I had read many articles about Love, and cautioned my radio friends that he has a reputation for being difficult. Despite his cheery stage persona, he once made news for firing the group’s co-founder Brian Wilson from a reunion tour. After only a few days on the road, their differences were irreconcilable, so Love sent his cousin packing. Now they are indeed road warriors. The night Love was in Chattanooga, Wilson’s group was singing Beach Boys hits in Louisville, Kentucky.

When I met the tour bus outside the Lookout Valley Walmart, Bruce Johnston hopped off, wearing a big smile. He greeted me warmly, and told me how much he loved the local scenery. Talking a mile a minute, he pulled out his “cheat sheet,” saying he was still learning some of the Christmas songs on this tour. I complimented him on his long career, and for writing Barry Manilow’s 1975 hit, “I Write the Songs.” He seemed flattered, and said, “Nobody knows it, but that song is about God. I couldn’t say it back then, because radio stations wouldn’t have played it if they had known the true meaning.” Well, now you know.

A few minutes later, a younger band member hopped off the bus, and looked me straight in the eye. “Mike doesn’t feel well today,” he said. “He’s got a cold or something, and his eyes are really red, so he’s wearing sunglasses, even inside. I just thought you should know,” he said.

Great, I thought. Mike is under the weather. I didn’t know what to expect.

Mike then stepped off the bus, accompanied by his wife Jackie, and they were a study in contrasts. Mike moved a little slowly, and he didn’t say much, while Jackie seemed lively and talkative. I had been instructed to offer Mike a jacket, featuring his name and the Hall of Fame logo. “You don’t have to wear this,” I said cautiously, “but we would be honored if you would.”

He studied it for a few seconds, and his younger bandmate offered to help him try it on. “Sure,” he said, “it’s a good fit. Let’s do this.”

Sounding a little hoarse, he was rather quiet during the brief drive to WFLI. I told him I would tell the crowd a little about the museum, and then talk about the Beach Boys before introducing him. If he wanted to say a few words, the crowd would love it, I told him. He shook his head, and said, “That’s fine.”

As we approached the station, I remembered two other veteran entertainers I had seen who were ailing at the time. Many years ago, on a trip to NBC in California, I saw a stooped-over little man in a dressing room. He was quite frail. During the next few minutes, he put on his toupee, and the makeup lady powdered his face. Moments later, Johnny Carson called his name. “Please welcome George Burns!” As he made his way through the Tonight Show curtains, he straightened up, the color returned to his face, and he filled the studio with laughter.

In 2013, local radio legend Luther Masingill accompanied me to a speaking event in Spring City, about fifty miles north of Chattanooga. He was 91, and barely out of the hospital after battling pneumonia. It was his idea to go, and I always loved his company. But as he sat silently in the passenger seat during the long drive, I began to wonder if this was a good idea. Of course, just like George Burns, when he heard the applause and the laughter, he was suddenly decades younger.

I hoped the same would be true for Mike Love, and it was. When we arrived at WFLI, he was charming to everyone. He posed for selfies, signed autographs, and did a great interview with DJ Gene Lovin. Although Love’s band mate was nervously looking at his watch, I could see that Love enjoyed meeting Beach Boys fans, each telling him how much the music meant to them. It was a rare opportunity to meet the voice of, and co-writer of songs like “Good Vibrations,” “California Girls,” and “I Get Around.”

 

As I drove Love to the Tivoli Theater, his voice was even weaker than before, and I worried that all the activity might have drained him prior to the show that evening. On his way into the theater, Love’s band mate waved off an autograph seeker, holding a stack of memorabilia, telling him, “Maybe some other time. Mike is sick. He needs to go inside.”

A few hours later, when the lights came on and the crowd cheered, Mike Love felt a lot better, and put on a great show. It’s a get well formula that works for famous people, and the rest of us, too. The next time a family member or a friend is under the weather, give them a standing ovation, and lots of love. It really is the best medicine.