By Gregg Davidson

BILLY RAY CYRUS

(PART 10)

If you have followed my chronicle of Billy Ray’s career thus far, you are now aware of some of my personal and professional involvements with him. You may also realize that I truly felt concern for his state of mind, as sudden fame has a tendency to change one’s life in ways previously undreamt of, and not always for the better. Once you have attained it, it’s nearly impossible to ever return to a “normal” life.

Although I’m not one who is easily star-struck, I’ve always been interested in reading biographies of certain celebrities. I’ll even study the life of people that I don’t necessarily have any other interest in just to better understand how it was that they got to where they did, and the effect that their struggles may have had on them and their psyches. I suppose it stems from my life-long fascination with human psychology and certainly from my love of the liberal arts.

One thing I’ve noticed in my observations is that most public figures have one thing in common: the burning desire to set lofty goals and achieve them, whether personal or career oriented. Everyone has dreams, but few of us are willing to make the sort of sacrifices that are sometimes necessary to remain focused on our pursuits.

Billy certainly had to make hard decisions in his quest for a professional music career, and I’m sure he has some regrets, but in the end, he proved to his family, friends, and even his hometown that it was possible to escape the limited career opportunities that living in a small Midwestern town presents.

With the unimagined success of his 1992 debut album Some Gave All, there was a lot of pressure to prove that he could maintain the momentum of such an achievement. While the sold-out tour began to make more and more demands on his time, he and Sly Dog were barely able to take a breath before being herded back into the recording studio for more sessions that would result in their next album, defiantly named “It Won’t Be The Last.”

Everything concerning the remaining tour was quickly evolving. What was initially launched as a small low-budget venture was now evolving into a major state-of-the-art production. More equipment equaled more transportation and more personnel. When I first signed on as a driver there was only Billy and his bodyguard, the five members of Sly Dog, sound engineer John Griffiths, stage manager Roger Cordle, a road manager, a second driver, and me. A dozen people in total were the entirety of the team, but soon others began coming onboard as the show grew.

The first of them was a guy I’ll call "Calvin" who just rubbed me the wrong way. A New Jersey native, he was all urban, big city attitude- cocky and pushy, the sort of personality that clashed with a bunch of laidback Midwestern boys who were having the times of their lives. Right out of the starting gate he exhibited his disregard for authority when he broke a rule by smoking in the cab of the equipment truck, an action that I had to answer to. He was also a constant complainer and never-do-well who found fault in everything everyone else did, but only stated his disdain behind their backs. The problem was, I was the only one to at first see this side of him because he was notoriously two-faced when it came to facing his superiors.

I loathed having to allow him to ride with me, but the new trucks were still weeks away from joining the million-dollar convoy. Another annoying fact is that he always griped until he got full control of the radio dial, but luckily, I soon discovered that despite whatever music he might choose, he fell asleep easily when I avoided all conversation with him.

New equipment was another development. On a rare day off after a show in the deep South, I drove across town to a dealership in order to pick up some free Randall amplifiers (which were never actually used onstage) and a case of drum sticks for the band, but also walked out with some cool promotional posters that I had talked the manager into removing from the wall and giving to me. It was my first swag of the tour. (Swag is a term for such complimentary items amassed from time spent on the road, probably derived from the word swagger, which is what happens to one’s gait while carrying an armful of such goodies.)

The light and sound shows were growing too, and I spent as much time as possible befriending and watching the operations of the light men as they controlled the mood of each song by employing certain colors to provide the appropriate colorful atmosphere. As a drummer, I realized that the best man to operate the lights is a one who has a natural sense of rhythm and timing, but it also really helps to know the material. While understanding that nothing lasts forever, I was already thinking ahead and soaking in all that I could glean from my time on a pro tour. This knowledge would later serve me well in the business.

As the tour rolled on, Billy and the band were encountering other celebrities left and right. It seemed that even they were awestruck by Billy’s domination of the top of the charts and the swift proliferation of the “Cyrus Virus”. Many of them were so interested in meeting him that they would offer the band free tickets and VIP passes to their own shows. Within a year, Billy would even be approached by Dolly Parton with whom he would record the song (and video) “Romeo”.

As time went by, I was beginning to see that the music business is really about the business of music, and free time was becoming more of a memory than anything else. We were going further from home on each jaunt and staying out longer to do so. Everything was becoming more rushed with added emphasis on detail as the label began upgrading and adding more expensive elements to the show.

Just as things were getting really intense and there were fewer and fewer days off, I was thrown for a loop as I got word that my mother had suffered a series of mild heart attacks. It was like being on a carousel ride when someone pulls the plug. Suddenly all of the music slowly ground to a halt and I was left reeling with vertigo, and feeling sick to my soul. Too

All of the glamour was suddenly sucked out of it for me. Working with friends and socializing with hip and notable personalities is cool, but they couldn’t hold a candle to my own mother’s company. I did get home in time to find that she was alive, if worse for wear, and then during one last highway trip, I began to plan on how I was to bow out gracefully. There were other factors involved that I won’t get into here, but it was obvious what I had to do.

When I did exit the tour, I left confident in knowing that even if I was never again to take part of anything so enormous, my recollections would last a lifetime. They are the kind of memories that no amount of money could hope to purchase, the type of experiences that most people can only dream about. If I may paraphrase the pitch of a certain self-promoting show business iconoclast, I was a part of the greatest show on earth.

That show, of course, went on without me and as Billy Ray continued to make history, I returned to Greenup County and tried to deal with the challenging task of being an attentive son to my cherished Mom. As her only male offspring, she continuously told me all of my life that I was special and how dearly she loved me. It was now my turn to return the favor and I reminded her daily of what a wonderful upbringing she had blessed me with as I went about seriously internalizing the fact that the day was going to come when I would lose her.

Luckily, she began to recover and continued to enjoy a relatively healthy existence until finally succumbing to death in 2008; just nine days shy of reaching her 80th birthday, a milestone that she had confessed to me she that wasn’t all that thrilled about acknowledging. I am at peace with it though, it was her time and as heartbreaking as such events always are, I sleep soundly knowing that she was ready. She was tired and had suffered the indignity of having to give up her mobility for the security of a wheelchair for her last three years, but I am content in the fact that she got to see all of her grand-children and great-grand-children one final time in her remaining few years.

Looking back, I have no regrets about my decisions. In regard to my passion for music, I still was able to work in and around the business in one manner or another. Some of the contacts I made during my time with BRC and Mercury Records led to me encountering and/or working with many other acts like my teenage heroes KISS.

As for Billy, he faced the monumental endeavor of trying to match the success of the first album. The follow-up did sell a respectable three million units, an impressive feat by any standards, but record label executives always expect each effort to outdo any prior achievement. They examine pie charts and line graphs, and study the sales projections of so-called business experts, while always expecting the numbers to magically add up to large profits in a bid to defy the law of diminishing returns.

If a new artist sells three million copies there is much fanfare and congratulatory back slapping in an atmosphere of celebration. But selling three million units of a sophomore effort after moving twenty million the first time around becomes a grim disappointment in the eyes of the ever-hungry businessman.

All financial pursuits aside, that’s not to say that Billy Ray didn’t remain successful. He did continue to create music that was insightful and heartfelt, with his core base of fans insuring healthy if not exactly astronomical sales figures. His 1996 album “Trail of Tears” is one of my personal favorites, but they all offer some memorable compositions.

Billy’s success did give Flatwoods a burst of much appreciated tourism that lasted for a couple of years, and the city seemed to celebrate it by renaming a section of Bellefonte Road “Billy Ray Cyrus Blvd.”. The section of U.S. 23 that passes through Greenup County became added to the Country Music Highway in BRC’s name and a sign was erected at the foot of Wheeler hill announcing that Flatwoods was the “Home of Billy Ray Cyrus”. Unfortunately, it should have read “Hometown of…” because after it was relocated to the top of the hill, many tourists were logically misled into thinking that the house behind it was the singer’s boyhood home.

After his term with Mercury/PolyGram expired, his father Ron suggested that he try his hand at acting to increase his odds at remaining a valuable commodity in the entertainment trade. He landed some roles in films, but it was in television where he found his acting niche on the PAX cable channel as the leading man in the series “Doc”. In 2001, his wife Leticia was instrumental in finally discovering a role that seemed custom fit for Billy. In his portrayal of Clint Cassidy, an earthy and empathetic small-town physician who finds employment in a hectic urban hospital, Billy proved to be a natural and the show became a favorite for millions. That show lasted three years, but it was only a portent of what was to come.

When Billy and Leticia’s daughter Destiny Hope Cyrus (nicknamed “Miley”) landed the lead in the Disney Channel show “Hannah Montana,” the producers asked Billy to read for the part of Hannah’s father. Their natural chemistry was obvious and the show’s 2006 launch re-sparked the Cyrus Virus all over again with young Miley becoming the household name this time around. In the wake of it all, she had her name legally changed to Miley Ray and the rest, as they say, is history. The show helped to serve as a launch-pad for her own recording and subsequent movie career. It now seems that all eyes are upon her little sister Noah who is also showing signs of becoming quite an actress herself, having appeared in cameos roles.

2011 is proving to be a busy year for Billy. His newest album “I’m American” is his 12th studio effort and he is also slated to be involved in an upcoming TV series titled “UFO: Unbelievably Freakin' Obvious”. He is also still involved in a number of charities including his own Billy Ray Cyrus Foundation, and holds a chair on the Parents Television Council. As his 50th birthday approaches (Aug. 25), he is undoubtedly grateful to still be (if I may quote one of his songs), a “Busy Man”.

It seems to me that Billy Ray Cyrus was destined to succeed. In high school, the slightly shy kid from Flatwoods became a Russell Red Devil football player on a State AAA winning team. His athletic ambition also molded him into becoming a great baseball player for Russell during a time when the Cincinnati Reds and their Big Red Machine were winning World Series pennants. His own father Ron had been a working-class father who held down a job at Armco Steel and through insight and ambition rose to the ranks of an executive with the AFL-CIO labor union. Not satisfied with complacency, Ron ran for the office of State Representative to fix the political stumbling blocks that were bottlenecking the flow of progress for the working man in his community… and he won. Billy was, it appears, surrounded by winners.

I believe his determination to succeed was fueled by this early exposure to "winning" (way before Charlie Sheen diluted the impact of the term for everybody, I might add) via inspirational books including the Bible and motivational self-help books full of positive thinking and actuation by visualization.

When Billy was exposed to failure, he visualized it as another solid step toward success. This sort of mindset is what it took to keep Billy focused and succeed where lesser men would have thrown in the towel. I know that BRC has many detractors, but I must say that considering all of the pressures and obstacles that he endured to claw his way to the top, I remain in awe of his determination to proceed despite the odds that he faced. I know he makes many more of us proud to call him our native son. His influence is still apparent locally in such acts as Aaron Marshall Miller, Larry Pancake, and The Whipps (with former BRC drummer Greg Fletcher!).

As for brother Kebo, that ol’ Sly Dog has a new CD out titled “You Know” that has some catchy tunes on it. If you would be interested in a copy, you may contact me through my Facebook page (go to http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000468267005 and message me for info). I thank you all for your continued support and I hope you’ve enjoyed my little trip down memory lane half as much as I have enjoyed reliving it. To read the entire 10 chapters typos and all (with additional photos) go to www.greenupbeacon.com and then feel free to let my editor Hank Bond know what you think. Thanks again!

Billy Ray Cyrus - 1992

Billy Ray Cyrus - 2011

Sign at foot of Wheeler Hill - 1993