Happy 80th to “The Killer” Jerry Lee Lewis

Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins and Johnny Cash, with Elvis Presley at the piano. Sun Records, Dec. 4, 1956

Imagine being a fly on the wall at Sun Records in Memphis, Tennessee on Dec. 4, 1956.  In the iconic photo above, you see Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley.  Elvis had already hit it big that year, while his three friends were still on the way up.  As their legends grew, they would come to be known as “The Million Dollar Quartet,” and there’s even a successful musical that documents the era (it will be in Chattanooga next March).

If anyone had placed bets that day on which of them would still be standing (and performing) in 2015, I doubt anyone would have put their money on Jerry Lee.  Even then, at 21, he was a wild child who lived fast.  Within a few months, he would have the two big hits for which he’s best known: “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” and “Great Balls of Fire.” Mild by today’s standards, they were scandalous in the innocent 1950s.  You’ve seen what Miley Cyrus does on network TV.  In 1957, many stations banned Jerry Lee’s first hit because of words like “Now, let’s get down real low one time now, Shake, baby, shake, All you gotta do, honey, is kinda stand in one spot, Wiggle around just a little bit, that’s when you got it, yeah.”  Nobody would blink an eye these days!

If you were around then, or if you’ve seen the 1989 movie “Great Balls of Fire” with Dennis Quaid, you know the rest.  He married his 13-year-old cousin Myra in 1958 (he was 23 at the time), and that didn’t go over well.  Radio stopped playing his songs, and by the time folks forgot about the marriage scandal, the Beatles had taken over the American music scene, and Jerry Lee’s style of music had faded.  He later switched to country music, and never quit playing the clubs.

His personal life, well chronicled in Rick Bragg’s recent book, “Jerry Lee Lewis, His Own Story” has been controversial to say the least.  Seven wives, six children, and lots of tragedy.  Two of the children died young, and a few of the wives died, let’s say, mysteriously.  I highly recommend Bragg’s book.  I doubt you’ll ever read about anyone who’s had a more interesting life, in a chaotic kind of way.

Here are my two favorite Jerry Lee stories.  One is about the origin of his nickname, “The Killer.”  I always thought it had something to do with style of piano playing.  Nobody ever said he was a piano’s best friend.  As you’ll see in the video below (or the ones linked above), he punished those keys.  But actually, the nickname comes from his school days.  According to Bragg’s book, Jerry Lee showed up for school one fall day, and sat down in the 7th grade classroom.  There was one problem: he had failed 6th grade.  The teacher, a football coach, promptly told him to go to 6th grade.  Jerry Lee refused, and the teacher picked him up.  Jerry Lee grabbed the teachers’ necktie, and pulled hard.  It took two football players to drag him off.  While the teacher gasped for breath, Jerry Lee was delivered to the school office.  There was another boy waiting to be disciplined, but Jerry Lee’s case was more serious.  The principal suspended him for two weeks, saying “Son, we can’t have you killing teachers.”  As he was leaving the school, the other boy said, “See ya later, Killer.”  So now, you know.

The other story has been told many times, and it’s attributed to various sources who say it happened in various places.  Jerry Lee’s act was quite energetic, and he always believed he should be the headliner on a multi-act show, because he worked the crowd into a frenzy.  However, some other big names thought they were just as big, so they would insist on closing the shows too.  One night, depending on which story you believe, Chuck Berry, James Brown, or somebody demanded they close the show.  Jerry Lee argued, but eventually gave in.  He agreed to do his show while the superstar headliner waited in the wings.  As usual, Jerry Lee played the piano relentlessly, with both hands, his fists, and his feet.  During his closing number, with the crowd on their feet, he set the piano on fire.  As he walked off the stage amid screams and cheers, he looked at the headliner and said, “Let’s see you follow that, pal!”  Except he didn’t really say “pal.”  Just think of the most  obscene, colorful expletive you can insert in that sentence, and you’ll get the idea.

Happy Birthday, Killer.  You’ve outlived your old Sun Records buddies, and that’s quite a feat.  Click and watch this unappreciated, underplayed Jerry Lee hit.  It’s Jerry Lee’s version of a Ray Charles song that had charted years earlier.  I like both versions, but this one’s largely forgotten.  Here’s a video of his 1969 TV performance, that shows Jerry at his best.  Enjoy!