Hi Gang:

Amidst all the excitement of my new CD and my new book, I don't want to let the recent death of former country star, Carl Smith, fade too far into the past without weighing in briefly on the subject of both the man and his music. I was a fan of both.

When my folks brought me to the Grand Ole Opry for the first time in 1954, there was no hotter country singer on the planet than Carl Smith.

That fall, he would have his fifth #1 record in the Billboard charts, “Loose Talk.” He was already well-known for such classics as “I Overlooked An Orchid,” “Let Old Mother Nature Have Her Way,” “Don’t Just Stand There,” “Hey Joe,” and others.

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He was young, good looking, talented, and just cocky enough for the women to think he was extremely sexy. The only time I ever suspected my mother might have left my father was that August night she saw Carl Smith in person for the first time.

He took over the Opry stage, not only with his voice and his commanding presence, but with the large, colorful band that stood behind him. The musicians were dressed in form-fitting red western shirts with white fringe, cream-colored slacks, and custom boots. Carl himself wore a cream-colored western suit, white shirt, and red tie. My mother leaned over to me and confessed she thought he was the best looking man she’d ever seen.

I was just getting started with music at the time, and my little hillbilly band down in Georgia knew every Carl Smith song that was on the market. They had to know them, because I loved to sing them…. “Are You Teasing Me,” “Let’s Live A Little,” “If Teardrops Were Pennies,” and all the rest. I never dreamed the night I sat for the first time inside the Ryman Auditorium and watched Carl on stage that I would ever get to know him, much less be able to call him a friend.

We never had the chance to become as close as I would have liked, though, because he resigned his membership at the Opry before I became a member. I got to know a lot of the older stars by hanging with them in the backstage dressing rooms there, but I never had that opportunity with Carl. We did tour together on several occasions, though, and I always enjoyed standing in the wings, listening to him sing and watching him flirt with the ladies.

In a rare moment of candor he once told me that he never wanted to be a star. Never even particularly wanted to make records. "I just wanted to sing on the radio," he said. "That's what I came to Nashville to do. All the other stuff just happened."

I was thrilled when Carl was elected to the Country Music Hall of Fame, but thought it sad that he only got to stand and wave to the crowd the night of his televised induction.

The news of Carl’s passing reached us backstage at the Ryman late on a Saturday night. I thought how I had first seen him at the Ryman, and was now hearing of his death inside those same hallowed walls. And I remembered the night I finally had the chance to tell him what a big fan of his my mother was.

“I honestly believe if she’d have had the chance, she’d have ditched my daddy right there at the Opry and gone home with you that night,” I confessed.

He looked at me and never cracked a smile. “Your mother had extremely good taste,” he said.

Carl Smith was a lot of great things. But I don't recall anyone ever accusing him of being humble.