HERB McCULLOUGH

May 8, 2015

Yesterday morning I got the news that my dear friend Herb McCullough had passed away at his home in Florida. Herb (or Herbal as my girl friend Judy liked to call him) and I went back a long way to our early days in Nashville in the mid-’70’s. We were living the honkytonk life at the time, hanging out in a beer joint called the Kountry Korner on Music Row. I think both of us eventually figured out that we didn’t want to wind up as miserable as a lot of the guys at the bar who never tired of telling you how much they loved their kids while they ordered another beer. We left that life behind and started spending our time with more positive, creative people.

In the course of time our paths crossed in a serious way after I had started a publishing company called Forerunner Music with Allen Reynolds, Terrell Tye and Mark Miller. Herb came by one day and said that he wanted to join us as a writer just because he liked us and trusted us. He also introduced us to a young writer he had befriended named Shawn Camp. Shawn had been going through a tough time as a result of a record deal with a major label that wasn’t what he hoped it would be. Shawn was all about music. The label people were all about marketing. Herb helped Shawn recover his confidence and his belief in himself just by being a friend–a friend who would listen, a friend who would quietly encourage, a friend who wanted nothing more than to help. In time that friendship would manifest itself in songs like “Travellin’ Teardrop Blues”

One day Herb turned his attention to me. I was totally immersed in our publishing company, listening to songs, demoing songs, producing records. Herb decided I needed help. It was January and he stuck his head in my little office in the basement of Jack’s Tracks and announced to me that he’d made a New Year’s resolution to write a song that year with every writer in the house, and then–looking me in the eye–“including you!” Right away I started backing up, telling Herb how busy I was, how I hadn’t written a song in years–blah, blah, blah. “Does that mean you won’t do it?” For a quiet guy Herb had some steel in him. “No, of course not, Herb. I’ll do it when I get the time.” He made me get out a calendar and we made a time. The day came, but I was busy mixing an album. Herb came in to my office. “I see you blew our writing appointment off.” So he made me pick a new time. He wasn’t going to let me go.

Finally, we got in the writing room together and Herb and I started talking about things like the true friends we were. I had been spending time in Ireland and he was curious about the situation there where Catholics and Protestants were still blowing each other up. Before long, we had our guitars in our hands and a song called “Point of View” came out. This is part of it:

If your future’s in the past

There’s no need for you to ask

Which road you’re on or where you’re going.

Is that the best that you can do

When your child looks up at you

With hopeful eyes, such hopeful eyes Maybe in the back of our minds we were recalling those losers at the bar. When we were done, we were both happy with the results, but Herb still had to drag me back in there to write another. This time we definitely focused on our early time together. This is what came out

If misery loves company

You’ll never be alone

He’s always out there calling you

You never stay at home

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Trying to play it smart

You never see the sunshine

‘Cause you’re too busy stabbing in the dark

When you’re living on the devil’s level

You’re living on the devil’s time

When you’re living on the devil’s level

He’s gonna make you walk that line

Yes, he will make you walk that line

He will make you walk that line We didn’t leave it there, though:

Someday you’ll meet an angel

She’ll teach you how to fly

You’ll walk out on that party

Never even say goodbye

Was that glass half empty

Or is that glass half full

It’s hard work, but it’s worth it

The choice is up to you

The choice is up to you, boy

The choice is up to you Herb made that choice. In his case that angel was his wife Joann. Every single day he thanked her for her love and support. Herb had plenty to give to others, but sometimes he didn’t have a lot to give to himself. He didn’t take life easy. It pained him to see people in need, and he felt obliged to help. In his last years he spent a lot of his time and energy bringing music and friendship to those who were in hospice care. Faced with his own health problems in the end Herb had nothing left to give, so he passed on. I know I will not be the only one to say, when asked about Herb, “He was a help to me.” I will never forget him.