“I’ve got to pack my bags and go.

Excerpt from “Teenage Idol” – By Rick Nelson

Just the title of this piece may find some people scratching their heads and asking themselves, “Why is this guy writing about an entertainer who died in 1985 in a fiery plane crash in De Kalb, Texas?” Well, in the grand scheme of things, this new Coronavirus-fueled world that has all of us sheltering in place, social distancing, and feeling so isolated, has given me long periods of time in which to sit quietly. It has offered me time to think a bit more deeply about things, and to follow my thoughts wherever they might lead me.

It has also provided the time for me to clean the layers of dust off of the many old CDs in my house that have been waiting patiently, on shelfs and in scattered piles, for me to come back and give them another listen. They are like old absent friends who I haven’t seen in what feels like forever. In its way, the fear that grips all of us in the seemingly relentless onslaught of this insidious global pandemic has left us with pockets of time in which to pause. It is these new moments of silent aloneness where we stop and think back on some of the simple things from long ago that made us happy. For me, old songs are often a vehicle to those happier times.

Quite recently, I listened to a CD that held two vintage Rick Nelson albums; “Rick Sings Nelson” and “Rudy the Fifth.” From the early 70’s, both collections showcased Nelson, not as the 1950’s handsome young teen idol son of Ozzie and Harriet Nelson, who a generation watched every week on old black and white television sets with rabbit ears perched on top of them, but as the more mature and thoughtful singer-songwriter that he evolved to become long after he left his “Ricky Nelson” persona behind; the space when he finally grew up, and became “Rick” Nelson. The songs were thoughtful, introspective and projected a rich newness to them. From across so many long years, to me, they sounded as fresh and timely as if they’d just been recorded last week.

In the grand scheme of things, there are but a small cadre of entertainers who possess that special and lasting charisma and mass appeal that transcends the bonds of time. Rick Nelson was such a musical artist. For he was that rare rock star who was able to find a place deep within the collective conscience of those who were touched by his talent and musical stylings. He was that larger-than- life performer with whom the public connected and formed an enduring bond that time has not been able to break. He was a boyish looking 45 year old man when he left this world, and today, 35 years later, his image, and the pure sound of his voice, is etched in eternity. As I write this piece, his portfolio of timeless songs like the dreamy “Traveling Man,” the personal anguish of “Garden Party,” the upbeat Latino tone and feel of “Hello Mary Lou,” and his hauntingly beautiful cover of Bob Dylan’s “She Belongs to Me,” are all around me. Like a breezy wind waltzing with a field of long grass in summer, his songs are drifting through my mind.

When, in 1958, Nelson’s song “Poor Little Fool” became the first number one song on Billboard Magazine’s newly created “Hot 100 Chart,” Life Magazine coined the term “Teen Idol” to characterize Nelson and his mass appeal. By 1964, the Beatles and the British Invasion had ushered-in new and shifting musical trends that virtually eclipsed every American musical artist, including Rick Nelson.

Imprisoned by, and suffering through, the hangover of the unwanted label of teen idol, he embarked upon a long and difficult voyage of self-discovery. The journey allowed him to break free from the shackles of his squeaky clean boy-next-door image, and carve out a refined style that ultimately gave his musical career a second life. Some irony is found in the fact that, in the wake of every artist in the industry being swamped by the Beatles juggernaut, Nelson became close friends with a musical artist who lived down the street from him, and who was also a big fan of his. That artist was Beatle George Harrison.

By the time of his death, Nelson was in a good place. He had finally been able to put behind him the personal setbacks and ongoing battles with domestic issues stemming from a bitter divorce from his wife, Kris Harmon, the sister of actor Mark Harmon. He was touring, had signed a new record contract, and had successfully weathered the rough seas of the always fickle tastes of the public. He had regained the musical high ground, and was coming back strong. The half-forgotten teen idol from long ago and far away was again back on music’s fast track just as his life ended so abruptly on New Year’s Eve, 1985.

Rick Nelson has been gone for so many years now, and yet there remains an indelible image of him that time can’t erase. The timeless freeze frame of him as the handsome rock star in his mid-40’s who still retained an eternally youthful and boyish persona. Now and again, that crystal image of him still projects itself on the video screen in my head. Every once in a while, like this past week, I find that moment in time to draw the shades down on the world, sit back, and once again enjoy the soft and mellow sound of his singing voice. Listening to the old CDs this past week that were the catalyst for this article have rekindled my appreciation for the enduring talent of America’s first “Teenage Idol.”

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Paul Collins is a freelance writer from Southborough, Massachusetts.

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