The Man in Black…Kind Of.

Written by Caegan B. Jackson

Country music is described by many scholars and historians to be an art form of the common man, an art form that is uniquely and distinctly American. Songs of struggle, heartbreak, loss, addiction, and even redemption have long defined the genre. Perhaps nobody in the history of country music embodied and personified these qualities and ideas better than the “Man in Black” himself, Johnny Cash. Mr. Cash is an icon, a true American original whose music is still connecting with those living today, nearly seventy years after he first hit the Southern airwaves.

Now, I could probably write a detailed biography of Johnny Cash. I’ve enjoyed his music for the majority of my life, taking in his songs of struggle and peace during some of the most crucial points of my short time on this earth. This story, however, is not about the son of a sharecropper from the New Deal Colony of Dyess, Arkansas. If you’ll refer back to my latest writing about my beloved Aunt Pat, you’ll remember that my lasting image of her is Glinda, the “Good Witch of the North.” Kind of in the way Dorothy saw people from her real life reflected in the characters of Oz, I tend to do the same with people who have passed on.

So, I should tell you that I also have a real-life parallel for John R. Cash. 

His name was Joseph Morgan Price. More affectionately known by the fine women at Quality Cleaners in Goldsboro, North Carolina as“Ol’ Blue Eyes.”

“Joe knew a little bit about everything,” said my Uncle Brandon (who is more commonly known as “B,” and less commonly known as “Bumblebee”). And Bumblebee was right. There wasn’t much Joe couldn’t do. He was a handyman, a cook, an auctioneer, a stonemason, a Sunday school teacher, and, looking back, a pretty darn good stepdad, even if I didn’t appreciate it at the time.

Joe always knew exactly who he was. He had a very distinct look. You’d typically find him in a navy blue Best Price Auctioneering hat. He had a  head full of salt-and-pepper hair, and yes, I will admit, he had really pretty blue eyes. The hat and eyes were normally accompanied by a sly grin and a lit cigarette. Marlboro Lights, to be exact.

Joe was a Ralph Lauren man through and through. He had the classic polo in every color, put together with Ralph Lauren khaki shorts and a pair of work boots. To me, style has always just meant authenticity. It does not really matter what you wear; it’s more so whether or not you own it and aren’t pretending to be something you’re not. In the case of Joseph Morgan Price, that was true fact and then some. Never had a slightly worn out, but equally put together, outfit been so cool as it was when Joe Price wore it.

Joe spent most of his time outdoors working with his hands, but make no mistake about it, he was a true Southern gentleman in every sense, and that meant that he knew how to dress. He spent many Sunday mornings making sure his suits were spotless and his shoes looked like mirrors. Like any Southern gent, he was a bowtie man (long before it was trendy), fit for any gathering whether it be a spring wedding or Easter Sunday. He also had an incredibly solid collection of neckties, many of which I now claim as my own.

I even wore one of Joe’s best ties to my first job interview after college. It was a beautiful royal blue tie (Ralph Lauren of course), adorned with horses from top to bottom. The mascot of the school where I was interviewing was, in fact, a horse, and yes, I got the job. If there was one lesson of Joe’s I never forgot, it was to “know your product.” I can still see him looking right at me with those serious blue eyes, pointing his finger as he said it. 

Even his Saturday evening attire was neat and orderly. Joe would, without fail, wear a gingham Ralph Lauren button-down shirt with khakis and a clean pair of brown leather Chelsea boots. His shirt was always starched and tucked into his pants so perfectly you would’ve thought he was born that way. No detail ever too small for “Ol’ Blue Eyes.”

As I said earlier, Joe always knew exactly who he was. He never spoke about a subject he did not feel educated on, and he was educated on just about everything. The same applied to his cooking. Joe did not venture out very far in the world of cuisine, but what he did make was near perfection.

Joe made a very solid barbecue chicken. In true North Carolina fashion, it was always smothered in a vinegar-based sauce that was just chef’s kiss, accompanied by homemade slaw or potato salad and cornbread. I don’t mean the sweet, cake-like cornbread. I mean the thin crispy kind. If you know, you know.

Joe was known to throw together a nice stew or a soup on a cold winter evening. He’d also smoke a pork shoulder if we were entertaining guests, and that was equally as excellent. 

His specialty, however, was steak. A filet, medium. Much like Joe. Nothing fancy, but exactly right.

Joe loved to grill steaks on a Saturday evening after a long day of yard work, and what I’m sure was an even longer work week for him. Sometimes he would wrap it in bacon; other times he would let it marinate for hours on end in some concoction that was much closer to a potion than it was a recipe. Nonetheless, Joe’s steaks were always perfect.

I didn’t see it as much more than a good steak then, but now it represents so much more. Joe worked very hard. Probably too hard, as we later learned. He gave a lot of himself to try and build a better life, and to try and build something of his own. I believe those Saturday night steaks, for him, were a small reward for his long work week and a way for Joe to love on his people just a little bit.

Joe was a workhorse. That’s all he knew. He was going to instill that in myself as well as my brother at all costs, and he did eventually get that through to us, albeit after a few mental scars.

Joe could be tough. I guess he wasn’t quite used to dealing with young boys when Cameron and I came around, and to be completely transparent, we were both two knuckleheads. So, we did not get along for a while. But as we all learn, it is often through discipline where we learn some of life’s most valuable lessons.

Like the time Joe taught me how to change a tire and he said, “Sometimes you just gotta go ahead and decide to do something.” Which was Joe-speak for: if you’re going to make a mistake, make it going full speed and not half-heartedly.

He made me start paying my Aunt Christy to cut my hair(she had done it for free for many years) and even made me pay my mom for a class that I failed my first year of college, so that I would know the value of a dollar. He made us lay monuments, clean bathrooms, wash cars, mow grass, and weed eat.

Cameron and I made so many mistakes, many of them leading to a tongue-lashing from Mr. Price, which we were not used to. We laugh about it now, but there was nothing funny about it then. It always started the exact same way:

“Now boys, I’m not fussin’.”

Which generally meant you were about to get cussed out.

All the work Joe put us through culminated at R.D. Jones Packing Company. For some reason, Joe and his business partner, Taylor Best, found it appropriate to get into the sausage business just months before COVID-19 shut down the entire world.

That shut down left Cameron and me with a lot of free time. So, we decided (Joe decided) it might be a good idea to go help out at the plant. It sure beat sitting at home all day.

I can vividly remember Joe sitting us both down and explaining that this was a serious business and that we should treat it as such. He also explained that this was now our family business and that we should take pride in it.

So, we did just that.

Cameron and I cut meat, we made sausage, we sold sausage, we manned the phones, we loaded hogs, we scrubbed floors, and we painted the entire building inside and out. We pressure washed, we did all the landscaping, and our favorite part: we ran the delivery route all over Eastern North Carolina, which meant we had lunch at some of the finest hole-in-the-wall joints our state has to offer.

Over time, we started to learn what Joe had been beating us over the head with all these years.

1. Do it the right way the first time.

2. Don’t just do a good job; leave it better than you found it.

3. A little money in your pocket is nice, but the true prize comes from the fulfillment of a job well done.

4. Give more of yourself so that others may find joy.

 

At this point, I am sure you are wondering where the Johnny Cash connection comes in.

Well, I guess it started when I first started working with Joe. I was probably fourteen. He kept a Johnny Cash greatest hits CD in his truck, or as he said so many times, “my pick-up.” It played over and over. Those miles traveled up and down the back roads of Eastern North Carolina were where I really got to know Joe, the man.

Much like the Man in Black, he believed in America. Joe knew his history, which no doubt was the result of his father, Mr. Tim, who was a history major at what was then known as Atlantic Christian College.

Joe and I spent countless hours talking about American history. He knew it all.

Also like Johnny Cash, he was sometimes critical of events going on his country, and was not afraid to call out what he saw as an injustice. Joe was a gentleman through and through, but he also stood firmly on what he believed in.

Johnny Cash became famous for the causes he became outspoken for, like the plight of Native Americans and prison reform. Joe appeared to me to be a straight-and-narrow white guy who wouldn’t have much sympathy for anyone unlike himself. Yet, he surprised me over the years, as I watched Joe take in former convicts and those struggling with addiction. He gave second (and third) chances to those who needed a little extra help, or maybe just needed a break or a helping hand. The kindness I saw him show to those who were sometimes deemed “not fit for society” was life-changing, and I have a funny feeling that he did a lot more than I ever saw.

I also know that, much like Mr. Cash (and many of us), Joe faced his own demons in life.No, he never went to jail, and no, he did not have a drug problem. But I know now that Joe’s heart was broken many times, sometimes by people he loved. And I watched Joe handle times like those with the same respect and integrity that he brought to everything in his life. As they say, “tough times don’t last, tough people do.” Joe lived by that example. 

The last comparison I’ll make to Johnny is that Joe had one great love in his life, and that was my mama.

Their story was quite unconventional, but as I like to say, it was imperfectly perfect. Which, to me, is the greatest kind in the long run.

Much like June Carter Cash, my mom broke Joe’s heart way back in the day. As fate would have it, they would find each other again much further down the line. They got what Don Henley of the Eagles describes as one of the rarest things in American life: a second act.

Joe was not perfect, but he did set a great example for my brother and me. He always put my mother first. That’s as it should be.

I also know that he put his mother, known to us as Mamaw Jackie, on quite the pedestal as well. If there was one demand Joe made, it was that he was going to have Sunday lunch at his mama’s house. That’s also as it should be. 

More importantly, he didn’t bend on he and my mother spending quality time together. They did, because he made sure of it.

The same old grouch who was so quick with a swift kick in the butt when we needed it also wrote letters to my mama that would melt your heart. As we say, he was “foolish” over her, just as Johnny was over June.

I don’t know if you’ve picked up on this yet, but people in my stories die. 

I’m sad to say that in the wee hours of December 5, 2020, Joseph Morgan Price left this earth.

Like so many others, Joe left us early. As it was stated in his obituary, Joe heard the call to “come home”, and as a gentleman always does, he knew it was time to leave. 

His death fit the imperfectly perfect aspect of him and my mother’s story. The night he died, he and my mom were having one of their mandatory dinner dates. It was there that Joe practically planned out his entire funeral with her, not knowing that his funeral would need planning several hours later.

Joe also, in true Joe fashion, got the last laugh over me.

The night Joe left us, I was scheduled to go to an NC State football game the next day. As I’ve said in previous writings, these are my sacred Saturdays, and this was during the COVID-shortened season, so I was itching to see a game live.

I will also tell you that Joe did not care one thing about sports. I forced him to endure years of my sporting events because, with my mother being the angel that she is, she was not going to miss a game. That meant Joe couldn’t miss one either.

So, Joe got the last laugh, as his unexpected departure ensured that I missed the last home game of the season and meant that I would wait another 365 days to see a live football game.

Well played, Joseph Morgan. Well played.

There are many things I could say about Joe’s time here on earth. He was tough on me and my brother. Really tough. He came into my life at a very awkward time. I was just thirteen years old. I already had a dad, one that I loved. I didn’t want a stepdad.

But as The Rolling Stones taught us so well:

“You can’t always get what you want…
…but if you try sometimes, you’ll find you get what you need.”

We needed Joe.

He taught us so many practical life skills: car maintenance, yard maintenance, dress, social etiquette. You name it.

Those things are great, but as we find in life, it’s often the small things that mean the most to us. 

Joe showed us the value of a hard day’s work. He showed us that respect never goes out of style. He showed us that no detail is ever too small.

I can hear him now saying, “Son, it only takes a few extra seconds to do something the right way.”

I think, in his own way, he showed us love, albeit tough love in our eyes at the time.

And in his passing, he showed us how fragile life truly is.

About a year after Joe died, I started my journey in college basketball. It was a new world. A fast-paced, stressful world. Joe had prepared me for the next phase of life and I had no clue. I can’t imagine I would have made it through those hard days without the lessons I learned from Joe (who cared nothing about basketball, by the way). Actually, I know I wouldn’t have.

I even share “Joe-isms” with our team managers to this day.

So yes,  you get what you need.

To sum up Joe Price, I’ll leave you with this.

When I was sixteen, I got in quite a bit of trouble for engaging in some “extracurriculars” with a few local hooligans. My parents sat me down and gave me quite the wake-up call. It wasn’t the brightest moment for Caegan Jackson.

As I was getting my rear end chewed by my parents, there sat Joe in the background. Cool, calm, and collected.

As I walked outside to my car to collect all my freedoms that were no doubt about to be taken away from me, out came Joe. And the man who was historically so tough on me hugged me and said these words:

“Son, you’ve got a lot going for you. This is just part of growing up, and you’re gonna be just fine. I promise you.”

And then he told me the three strongest words in the English language. Three words that maybe he had also needed to hear throughout his own life.

He told me he loved me.

And I know now that he meant it.

-Caegan B. Jackson