Twenty-two years ago.
I was twenty-nine.
He was thirty.
My favorite singer, I have quoted him before, likes to say something about holding on to the music of our youth. That is one of the things I like to fall back on when I think about how many times over the years I have gone to see The Moody Blues. There’s more to it than that.
On this day in 1997 one of the most unique friendships ever forged suddenly unraveled. Malcolm T. Lincoln, Sr. died suddenly. He went. I stayed.
Corner King Lincoln is what I called him. He sat up at the four way in New Salisbury keeping a watchful eye on the blinking light and tending to traffic in all four directions. On warm summer nights others would join him. We sat in the parking lot of the Gulf turned BP gas station. The station owner thought it nice to have someone like Todd there. He knew things would never get out of hand with Todd around. Our only vice came out of a fine cut wintergreen SKOAL can. There was plenty of that to go around.
Corner King and I were roommates on two occasions. His work schedule and my school and work schedule assured we would rarely see each other. When we did have that one night a week to hang out together we made the most of it. Todd loved cars and chrome and knew vehicles inside and out. I knew they were made to drive. He taught me how not to abuse them. I was a man of sports,writing and studying and I had a pure love of my music collection. Outside the laughter at funny movies and the sharing of the SKOAL can, the one thing that brought us together in the most was music. The last thing we did together in 1997 was go to a Moody Blues concert.
Graeme Edge takes the mic for a change.
I introduced Corner King to The Moodies music and he genuinely enjoyed it. It was our thing. When The Moody Blues recorded their concert in September of 1992 at Red Rocks near Denver, it was rebroadcast in March of 1993 on PBS television. That was the first we saw of it and we were intrigued. Todd’s mother, Carolyn, recorded it via VHS tape. At 11:30 we were at her house picking it up and we took it home and watched it three times through into the wee hours of the morning. Three months later Todd and I were at Deer Creek outside of Indy listening to The Moodies play live with an orchestra. It was a dream come true. Most fans never saw that coming. I was fortunate enough to see several orchestra shows between 1993 and 1999. In June of 1997 in Fort Wayne I saw that concert with Todd and it really was our last hurrah, if you will. His favorite Moody was Graeme Edge the drummer.
At his funeral we piped in the Red Rocks version of the beautifully Justin Hayward penned New Horizons. It was the right thing to do. I was greedy. I needed it.
The story has been told many times. It was a month and half after Todd’s death that I picked up a guitar at the behest of my dear wife, Carrie, for if nothing else cathartic purposes. We did not know I was about to roll a wonderful snowball of music down a hill.
Since then music has been wonderful to me. Writing songs, recording songs, performing songs, listening to my songs on the radio, and making more sweet friendships along the way.
And so it is, this wonderful friendship is never reaching an end. And I do know that Todd would have loved this picture:
I think one reason I have chased listening to these guys sing live so many times is that it reminds me of Todd, along with other great reasons.
In late October, Carrie and I are going to hear Justin Hayward at the City Winery in Nashville. And you must know that I will indeed be thinking of my old friend and how we found the best of ground listening to our music The Moody Blues.
Speaking the rights….
Danny Johnson