ON JULY 4, 2006, WHILE THE nation celebrated its birthday with barbeques, county fairs, and fireworks, thousands of fans found time to slip away from the revelry long enough to buy Johnny Cash’s American V record, fittingly released that day. Although put out nearly three years after his death, the buzz surrounding the album placed it among his finest work. Since Cash recorded most of the material on American V after his beloved June Carter Cash’s death and before his own death shortly thereafter, the work carried both a legacy and a mystique.
After the success of Cash’s earlier American Recordings albums produced by Rick Rubin, the critical acclaim surprised few people. More shocking, however, in an era dominated by bubblegum pop, cookie-cutter country, and hip hop, American V debuted at number one on the Billboard albums chart.
More than fifty years after his first single and on the heels of the biopic Walk the Line, starring Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon, Cash arguably remains more popular than ever. The evidence is as clear and strong as Cash’s deep baritone voice.
Bigger than the songs he wrote and sang, the movies and television shows he starred in, or the books he authored or were written about him, Johnny Cash is an American icon. He became a star at a time when no template existed for how that role should be played, so he plowed ahead with unbridled fury.
Early in his career and for far too many years, pills and alcohol beat Cash down. The emotional roller coaster of performing in front of countless adoring fans, followed by interminable bus rides and zigzagging across the country, cost him his health, his first marriage, and nearly his life. But his addictions could not put out the fire that fueled his creativity and his longing to tell America’s story of the saint, sinner, working man, or king.
Cash kept on telling stories even when the hit singles seemed to dry up, finding ways to remain relevant to new audiences. Decades before Madonna won praise for constantly reinventing herself as a performer, Cash moved back and forth from the stage to starring in his own television variety show to movie roles that stretched the public’s idea of celebrity. Only Elvis Presley, his comrade and friendly rival, had ever successfully moved across genres so easily, building new audiences on every front.
By 1980, the forty-eight-year-old Cash became the youngest living inductee admitted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. As similar accolades poured in, some musicians might have given up the fight, especially if their new songs received as little airplay as Cash’s in that decade. Everyone recognized his historical significance, but felt that his best days were also in the past. Cash stumbled through the ’80s, musically adrift and beginning to suffer physical setbacks, including double bypass surgery and relapses into painkiller addiction. Cash never gave up, despite not quite finding his place in the “me” decade. He could have quit at any time while remaining a legend for the rest of his life and beyond, but Cash still had stories to tell.
Cash’s resurrection began in the early ’90s as he took chances with his music that would have seemed foolish when he was younger, like singing on U2’s 1993 Zooropa album and working with rap and hard-rock producer Rick Rubin at American Recordings. Rubin saw Cash’s voice as his primary gift, which called for little more than some interesting lyrics and a lonely guitar. Together, they recorded Cash’s first album for the label, American Recordings, in a stripped-down style that focused on the singer’s powerful voice. The album received critical acclaim and reintroduced the legend to a new generation of music lovers. Two years later, Cash and Rubin released a sequel, Unchained, backed by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Ironically, although country music stations would not play his songs, Cash won a Grammy for Best Country Album.
Cash suffered several additional physical ailments as the new century began, including a misdiagnosed disease that nearly crippled him. At the same time, however, his work achieved new levels of dignity and emotion. Cash’s physical pain came forth in his voice on the discs American III: Solitary Man (2000) and American IV: The Man Comes Around (2002).
The defining moment of Cash’s later career was his recording of the Nine Inch Nails song “Hurt.” Cash turned Trent Reznor’s song about heroin addiction into an appeal to God for redemption and a retrospective on his deep love for June Carter Cash. Cash’s voice is pleading, replete with wisdom, but also filled with knowledge that the end is near.
The “Hurt” video gives viewers a powerful image of Cash not giving in to fate, even as the walls crumble down on the lithe, powerful man he had been. His hands shake as he pours wine from a goblet. Cash’s mottled skin and white hair stand in stark contrast to his “Man in Black” persona. He looks frail for the first time, but does not hide from the shocking image.
The video also shows glimpses of June Carter Cash, who died of complications following heart surgery on May 15, 2003, at the age of seventy-three. Cash would follow four months later, officially from diabetes complications, but more likely from a broken heart and the yearning desire to see June Carter Cash at Heaven’s Gates. Posthumously, Cash won best video of the year at the Grammy Awards and the Country Music Awards.
Over the years, Cash aged, mellowed, then raged some more, but ultimately became, at various times, the nation’s conscience, critic, patriot, and elder statesman. Successive generations “found” Cash, keeping his legacy alive from the birth of rock music to the iPod age.
Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan shared a special friendship that lasted across the decades. In 1999, at an all-star tribute to Cash, Dylan’s respect resonated in his voice as he launched into “Train of Love.” Lightly strumming his guitar and bouncing from one foot to the other, Dylan told Cash, “I used to sing this song before I ever wrote a song and I wanna thank you for standing up for me way back when.”
Over the years, Cash often discussed their unique friendship and points where their careers intersected. In his 1996 autobiography, Cash talked about singing on Dylan’s Nashville Skyline album and having the young folk singer on his popular variety TV show. Music bonded the two legends, but they also found common ground based on a healthy respect for history, religion, and ideas.
Ironically, the birth of Literary Cash: Unauthorized Writings Inspired by the Legendary Johnny Cash, came about as I read Dylan’s 2004 memoir, Chronicles. For the first time, fans got a glimpse into Dylan’s private life and influences. For the reclusive, elusive star, writing such a book seemed about as improbable as singing on an underwear commercial, but yet there it was. The book sparked yet another resurgence in Dylan’s popularity and only increased his iconic aura.
Immediately, Dylan’s lengthy discussions about songwriting touched me. As a person who takes on the solitary task of writing books and then putting thoughts out into the world, I could relate to Dylan’s feelings of anguish about writing his own material, particularly early in his career. “It’s not like you see songs approaching and invite them in. It’s not that easy,” he explained. “You want to write songs that are bigger than life. You have to know and understand something and then go past the vernacular” (Dylan 51).
Chronicles is littered with references to writers that motivated Dylan: Faulkner, Kerouac, Chekhov, Poe, and many more. When I read about how much literature and poetry influenced Dylan, I began to think about my writer friends who draw inspiration from music when and while they write. Talk to any group of writers about music and the examples seem endless, from simply listening to music while creating to using songs to evoke feelings or set a scene. Writers drawing inspiration from music and musicians seems like standard operating procedure.
The light bulb went off. What if we threw a twist into that common equation? I thought it would be great to assemble a group of authors and have them write essays and stories “inspired by” a musician or group. Providing a new spin on the musician’s themes and ideas would open the door to a fresh way of looking at the musician’s lasting influence. Although I was reading Dylan’s memoir, Johnny Cash served as the ideal choice for this kind of book, based not only on his broad range of material, but the wide-ranging influence his music continues to have on so many listeners. Thus, Literary Cash was born.
Dylan’s remarks and performance were not the only amazing events that night in New York City. One of the most touching moments transpired when June Carter Cash took the stage and sang “Ring of Fire,” the song she wrote about Johnny so long ago. Sharing with the audience her personal recollection of Cash in those days, saying that he was “scary,” her performance paid tribute to her husband in front of thousands of fans and supporters, but in so intimate a way that it could have been just the two of them at home in Tennessee. The power of her voice and spirit rocked the auditorium.
I can barely sing and only know a few guitar chords. I’m a writer, as are the twenty others who contributed to the book. Literary Cash is our way of paying tribute to Johnny Cash, just like the performers that night in 1999 and countless others in a variety of tribute CDs before and since his death. The difference is that our words are set to the page, and theirs were set to music.
There are seven nonfiction essays in Literary Cash and thirteen short stories. The former are new and interesting examinations of Cash’s life and body of work, ranging from his status as a popular culture icon to his influence on crime narrative and similarities with literary superstar C. S. Lewis. Two of the essays are creative nonfiction, narratives of how Cash’s music provided inspiration, changed lives, and gave people from all walks of life the ability to share a common ground.
Since the songs of Johnny Cash inspired the short stories in the collection, we thought it would be fascinating to also present the author’s “backstory.” Each backstory provides readers a glimpse inside the creative efforts of the writers and the specific songs or feelings that brought the story to life. We liken the backstory to the kind of explanation one hears on VH1’s Storytellers or reads about in music magazines. We see the backstory deepening the reader’s connection to the writer’s inspiration and revealing Cash’s lasting influence.
Each short story in the book is a new interpretation inspired by Cash and his music. We hope to invoke the spirit of Cash through our words and leave readers saying, “Hey, that story could have been a Johnny Cash song.”
At its heart, Literary Cash is a labor of love and our way of paying homage to one of the world’s towering figures. His music and spirit live on.
—Bob Batchelor
Dylan, Bob. Chronicles: Volume One. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004.