Merle looked haggard — whiskered, wrinkled, worn down. His gaunt, craggy face appeared carved from sturdy Mt. Rushmore rock.
Usually attired in faded pants, well-worn cowboy shirts, canvas vests and sweat-stained baseball caps, Merle loved the look of the outlaw, and during a bumpy period in his almost 80 years of life he was one.
Now, he belongs to the ages, to quote words spoken of the assassinated Lincoln. Merle left behind a musical oeuvre that will be difficult for future singers to match.
Merle’s deep, fleshy grooves were put-offish to our eyes. But when he burst into guitar and song his melodious voice wiped out that hobo look.
His bourbon-soaked baritone voice was as smooth as Golden Eagle syrup and his lyrics as poetical as Hank Williams’ rhythmic verse. The man was a born singer, songwriter and performer, though he didn’t fit the bill.
A few years back, the news of Merle’s passing from lingering pneumonia saddened his millions of fans, including me. Merle was that type of rare and gifted rebel who rarely comes our way. We loved having him around, and we dearly mourn his departure.
Merle possessed a pure country and western voice, as his unique sound was known back in his heyday. Now it is known simply as country music, and only a slight handful of its singers come close to matching Merle’s talent and ability.
His rise to fame came from country’s western wing, holed up in Bakersfield, Calif., a rival to Nashville, whose staple of singers included the ever-popular Buck Owens. That Bakersfield sound fused blues, jazz, pop and honky-tonk together into something quite different on the music scene.
There is little doubt. Merle was the best writer and singer of the western bunch, and he was every bit the equal to Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, among his rivals in the Nashville country sector.
Merle’s music celebrated the virtues of his beloved America, and his song “Okie from Muskogee” became the national anthem of its time. His heroes upheld our country’s values, showed respect, saluted the flag and defended faith and freedom.
Merle said he didn’t tolerate flag-burners or anti-war protesters, or strung-out dope heads, and he underscored that belief in his song. Yet, he, too, had been an outlaw in his youth who railed against civilized behavior and proper manners.
It was only in his later and wiser years that Merle said he regretted writing “Okie” because he felt he came down too hard on youths trying to find their way in life. He had been there, struggled to find his footing to lift himself up, too.
Upon hearing the news of Merle’s death at age 79 — the very day of his birthday — tributes to his genius as a songwriter and entertainer flowed in from every quarter. Many referred to him as the greatest country music singer-songwriter of his generation. I would tend to agree.
Thirty-eight of Merle’s songs reached No. 1 on the Billboard country chart from 1966 to 1987. He had 71 Top 10 country hits in all, with 34 in a row from 1967 to 1977. Seven of his songs crossed over to the pop charts. In all, Merle’s body of work represented an astonishing record of achievement.
But it didn’t begin that way for him. Merle showed little talent and no promise of a musical career as a youth. He grew up dirt poor in California and lived in a railroad car that served as a family dwelling. He dropped out of school and society to hit the rails of the wandering life, drifting about and getting into trouble.
Merle became an outlaw who was rebellious of the status quo. His law-breaking, hell-raising teen years led him into reformatory school and ultimately into San Quentin Prison for a five-year stretch for burglary and grand auto theft.
Then Johnny Cash came his way. Cash, himself a teenager rebel, held a concert for the inmates at San Quentin, and Merle was one of the rooters and howlers in the audience. That visit from Cash changed his life, Merle said. From that day on Merle wanted to be a country and western singer and nothing else.
In his cell, Merle practiced playing the guitar and discovered his natural gift for song writing. As a bored school youngster, Merle had penned songs to pass the time, but he never thought he had much of a chance of going anywhere with it.
In his young adult days, though, Merle’s music and his words flowed freely from his heart and his memories. In one of his greatest songs, “Mama Tried,” he wrote of his tortured regret for never taking the right turns in life.
Like Walt Whitman’s “songs,” many of Merle’s verses were poetic celebrations of the physical and mental struggles of the working class from which he came. He was the poet of the outsider and the marginalized – those who struggled for a fair chance within the system.
In a newspaper interview in 1999, Merle cited Elvis, Chuck Berry, Lefty Frizzell, Jimmie Rodgers and Bob Wills (of the Texas swing) as the singers who influenced him most. He thought that if he could combine their sounds he could come up with something of his own, something original. He was right, and he did.
His faithful fans liked his sound and became devoted followers during his long career. That Merle Haggard sound is unmistakable. We all know it’s a Merle tune from the first notes and the opening words.
Merle was a true original, and it may be a long stretch before another outlaw of his talent comes our way. Until then, we have Merle’s great songs to keep us going.
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