Another icon of my youth, Jimmy Buffett, passed away on September 1. I’ve never been a Parrot Head, as his fervent fans are known, but I love his music. I once saw Buffett and his Coral Reefer Band in concert. It was the early 80’s. He had a broken leg, but the injury didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. In fact, he worked it into the show. When he sang his biggest hit, “Come Monday”, he replaced the line, with you I’d walk anywhere and instead sang, with this cane I can walk anywhere.
When “Cheeseburger in Paradise” was released, I was working for Red Robin, the burger joint. The chain made the most of the excitement by using the song as on-site advertising, complete with punch-cards for cheeseburgers and draft beers. The move was a slick arrangement between our corporate office and Buffett’s business entity. Every dinner shift that summer began with the song playing in the restaurant, creating the party atmosphere for which Buffett was famous. The best part of it all was that for the whole summer the waitstaff (me included) wore tropical print camp shirts and khaki walking shorts. It was paradise in the burger palace.
Seafaring was in Buffett’s blood. His grandfather had been a steamship captain, and his father, a marine engineer and sailor — so, as the song says, he was a son of a son of a sailor. Buffett made an entire empire out of his sailboat lifestyle off the Florida coast. He made Margaritaville real instead of an imaginary alcohol-infused party locale. Although he was a famous Florida guy, to me he resembled a typical California surfer dude with his blonde wavy hair, his big mischievous grin, and the carefree stoned-out persona he embodied. He comically shared his inspiration for one of his songs with an explanation about being hungover: “There I was,” he said, “sanding down the ol’ main mast about to throw up and the only thing that can get me through is a bottle of Perrier and a Jackson Brown album.”
He was famous for extolling lyrics that praised the benefits of tequila and rum and the pain –but also the humor – in over-indulging. He banked on the fact that anyone who had ever over-imbibed would understand. The truth is that Jimmy as Party Boy was part real and part marketing ploy. He was a brilliant businessman, and his fans loved the image he created because wherever the trade winds took him, he invited us along by writing songs about his travels. The enamored Parrot Heads clamored to join him on every musical voyage.
What I most appreciated about Jimmy’s work was his solid ability to transport the listener to a peaceful time and a warm climate. His compositions take us to Havana, North Africa, Haiti, and Dominican Republic. Listening to his music you’d swear you feel the sway of the boat in the waves and the warm coastal breeze. You envision the crystal aqua of the Atlantic Ocean. Many of his lyrics and melodies were about so much more than that party mentality. He was a gifted storyteller. A favorite of his songs, “Son of a Son of a Sailor”, includes the following lines:
As a dreamer of dreams and a traveling man, I have chalked up many a mile. Read dozens of books about heroes and crooks and I’ve learned much from both of their styles. The lady she hails from Trinidad, the island of the spices. Salt for your meat and cinnamon sweet and the rum is for all your good vices. Haul the sheet in as we ride on the wind that our forefathers harnessed before us. Hear the bells ring as the tight rigging sings. It’s a son of a gun of a chorus. Where it all ends, I can’t fathom, my friends; if I knew I might toss out my anchor. So, I cruise along always looking for songs, not a lawyer, a thief, or a banker.
Jimmy put so much into those few lines — adventure, heritage, sights, sounds, scents, and anticipation — you can’t unpack it all.
Buffett once told an interviewer that he wasn’t the best singer or the best guitarist. In my humble opinion, he was talented at both, but his real gift was how he connected with his audience. At his concerts, the entire crowd was happy just to be there. And Jimmy was too.
Rest in Peace, Sailor.
Susanne Perry Publishing 