11/20/2014 Legendary music event producer Bill Carter advises GW pre-law students

Bill Carter, the legendary former Secret Service agent for President John F. Kennedy whose later music business experience includes managing artists like Reba McEntire and legal representation for the Rolling Stones, recently recounted his remarkable career before the George Washington University Phi Alpha Delta Pre-Law Fraternity at the Marvin Center Amphiteater in Washington, D.C.

But Carter also addressed the anxiety that students naturally feel as they near the end of their college studies.

“Life is not always going to go as you think it will, so expect the unexpected,” he said, then illustrated with examples from his own unexpected experiences following high school graduation in his tiny hometown of Rector, Ark. College not being an option, he joined the Air Force in 1953, then attended Arkansas State University on the GI Bill. Higher education, he said, prepared him for and provided the opportunities that would guide his future.

Deciding to go to law school at the University of Arkansas, Carter first accompanied is brother, who went to Dallas to take a civil service exam. Rather than just sit there, he took it, too.

Broke following 18 months of law school, he was about to take a job as an insurance adjuster (“It paid $450 per month and they furnished you a car. Sounded like heaven to me.”) when he was contacted by the U.S. Secret Service, which had found him through the Civil Service roster in Dallas.

“I wonder what direction my life might have taken had I not taken that test,” Bill told the students. “Now the 26-year-old kid from Rector was in training school in Washington, which included the White House. Never in my wildest imagination growing up in Rector, did I think this kid would ever make it to Washington, much less meet the president of the United States.”

Carter was in Washington on that fateful day of Nov. 22, 1963, and was sent to the White House immediately following the assassination.

“Those four days still haunt me and will until I die,” said Carter, who was assigned to the Warren Commission investigation in Dallas, and brought Marina Oswald to the commission’s hearings in Washington in March, 1964.

“JFK inspired my generation with new ideas, hope, and vision,” Carter told the students. “He touched and remolded lives, and gave young people the faith that individuals can make a difference to history.”

Devastated by the death of Kennedy—“the most magnetic personality I have ever met, and I have met several”—he left the Secret Service in 1966 and returned to law school and graduated in 1967. But his time in the Secret Service led to future opportunities.

While practicing law in Little Rock in 1969, he was hired, because of his Washington contacts, to represent a young man who was trying to establish a cargo airline. After three years of legal work to change Civil Aeronautics Board regulations, Federal Express was born.

Then in 1973, Bill’s friend Wilbur Mills, the powerful Arkansas Democrat and chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, asked him to help another friend whose clients were in trouble. And thus began Carter’s work for the Rolling Stones, who had been barred by the State Department from returning to the U.S. because of open drug use and riots by fans at American concerts in 1972.

Carter’s exploits with the Stones are chronicled in books including Chet Flippo’s On the Road with the Rolling Stones, Keith Richards’ Life and Bill’s own memoir, Get Carter.

“Needless to say, I spent a lot of time getting various members of the Rolling Stones out of legal troubles so they could perform in the United States,” he related. “And while I was busy doing that, I also established friendships with some of the most colorful characters that ever walked the planet. Me, a kid from little Rector, Arkansas.”

Bill also shared other adventures stemming from his new entertainment business involvement, most notably his friendship with actor Steve McQueen and the retrieval of his body following his death in Mexico. But besides representing the likes of the Stones, David Bowie, the Bee Gees, Tanya Tucker, Reba McEntire, Waylon Jennings and Bill Gaither—to name a few—Bill represented Teamster leader Jimmy Hoffa in 1974, bringing him into a confrontation with President Nixon in his White House office.

“None of these opportunities would have come my way had I not been prepared to take on the challenge,” Carter said. “You’ve got to be fearless, and you’ve got to be ready to do what it takes—even if you think the job is beyond your skill.”

Always remember, he instructed, that “hard work creates opportunity.” You never know who you will meet at a job, he explained, and the opportunities that flow from those fortuitous meetings.

But even the best education, he suggested, “is not always enough to be a good and effective lawyer.” While he himself was “never a brilliant lawyer,” he allowed, “I had common sense and knew how to deal with people. That kind of knowledge is a valuable commodity, but you’re not going to learn it in a classroom.”

It’s vital, then, to “get to know your future clients–the ones who will be counting on you to help them. The better you know the big variety of life’s circumstances, the better prepared you will be to relate, and help.”

So “believe in yourself, hold strong to your faith, and know there is a world out there waiting for you to make a positive impact,” Carter concluded. “One person can change the course of history. Be that person. You can do it.”

Noted fraternity president Will Jennings, “Most of the speakers we bring in to discuss what they have done with their careers in law focus on how necessary it is to get into the best law school and work for the best law firm as quickly as possible. With the recent economic recession, those who are interested in law in my generation are always worried about the next several years and are under a lot of strain from mentors and peers who constantly tell us we will be unemployed or underpaid if we don’t follow a career center’s clearly defined plan better than anyone else.”

“But Bill offered the students a different story—one of hope,” added Jennings.

[The Examiner wrote the foreword to Bill Carter’s memoir Get Carter–Backstage In History From JFK’s Assassination To The Rolling Stones.]

3/3/2016 Music legend Bill Carter inspires students with tales from rich life experiences

He’s already excelled in several careers, from Secret Service agent for Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, to tour lawyer for the Rolling Stones and David Bowie, to artist management for the likes of Reba McEntire and Shenandoah.

But all of Bill Carter’s achievements now come into play in his latest incarnation—inspirational speaker at colleges.

In fact, Carter’s most recent speech last month at Middle Tennessee State University (MTSU) may well lead not only to more such engagements at colleges in America, but corporate appearances here and overseas as well.

“I’ve had inquiries from Berlin, after meeting a guy from a music school in old East Berlin at a One Spark [crowdfunding] event here in Jacksonville,” says Jacksonville’s Drew Armstrong, who represents Nashville-based Carter for personal appearances.

“We were talking about Bill and his connection with music and the Stones, and he was more interested in Kennedy,” Armstrong continues. “He’s in his early 20s, and was fascinated because of Kennedy’s famous ‘I am a Berliner’ speech. But it only reinforced what I felt could be an excellent opportunity for Bill: He could just as easily speak at a corporate business meeting about crisis management and strategic negotiations because of his experiences outside of music—and all the things he’s done in life.”

Carter’s exploits with the Rolling Stones are chronicled in books including Chet Flippo’s On the Road with the Rolling Stones, Keith Richards’ Life (Carter first appears in the first line of Page Two) and Carter’s own memoir, Get Carter–Backstage In History From JFK’s Assassination To The Rolling Stones. But he was involved in numerous other significant events, including, besides Kennedy’s and Johnson’s presidencies, notorious Teamster leader Jimmy Hoffa, whom he represented and brought before President Richard Nixon in the White House; the founding of FedEx, which required federal bureaucratic changes; and smuggling the body of Steve McQueen out of Mexico.

“The Rolling Stones were banned from the U.S. and all the expensive lawyers in New York couldn’t do anything, but Bill did because he knew how to talk to people,” says Armstrong. “He knew how bright Mick Jagger was and brought him to the State Department to meet people and show them he was a smart young business man. This and so many of Bill’s other stories can apply in any business setting, because they illustrate the principles of working with people to iron out issues and accomplish goals—especially now in our country, when people on opposite sides of the table can’t work anything out and shut things down.”

Armstrong has seen how well Carter’s “amazing stories” work in the college setting.

“Young people eat them up, but his life lessons are more important,” he says, specifically, “Nobody can tell you what to do or guide you—those decisions are in your heart.”

He reports that over one-third of the 60 or so MTSU students stayed for way over an hour to speak with Carter personally after his talk with the school’s Department of Recording Industry chair Beverly Keel.

“Bill’s talk was one of the most moving and memorable events on campus in my 20 years at MTSU,” says Keel. “The students hung onto his every word, whether he was talking about successfully working with the State Department to allow the Rolling Stones to tour in the U.S. or working in the White House the week of the Kennedy assassination. As Professor Amy Macy commented afterwards, you could hear a pin drop.”

Remarkably, “I didn’t see one student glance at his or her phone the entire time!” adds Keel. “What was so beneficial was that he offered advice to our students and shared what he learned along each chapter of his life. They were inspired by the fact that he came from poverty, made his own way since age 17, as well as the fact that each job in his life somehow prepared him for the next.”
Indeed, Carter related his “very poor background” in the tiny rural Arkansas town of Rector. “I told them of my own situation and that stimulated them somewhat, I think,” he says. “I didn’t have any self-confidence, but had to learn to survive on my own, and they needed to hear that–to keep the faith and work hard and let opportunities come along.”

He contrasts his appearance at MTSU with a previous one at George Washington University in Washington, D.C.

“Those kids seemed to come from well-to-do families, but the Middle Tennessee kids are struggling financially. But they all had one thing in common: insecurity about facing the world—and I realized that my generation experience little, if any, stress: You get out of school and find a job! But there seems to be a lot of stress on this generation–and a lot of expectations. Everybody expects them to do well, but there are less opportunities than in the past, and they’re scared to death and insecure about the future. We put all that stress on young people!”
So Carter stayed after his MTSU talk as long as there were students who needed him.

“There were several inspirational moments,” says Keel, “but the one I recall most vividly was when a student from Africa approached him and said, ‘I understand about hardship,’ and beat his fist over his heart. That powerful connection moved me to tears.”

Recording Industry Department professor Amy Macy, who had worked with Carter when she was a staffer at RCA Records and he managed label acts Shenandoah, Lari White and Lonestar, particularly lauds Carter’s ability to “spin a story—and sell a concept.”

“In class, I encouraged the students to practice this concept, especially if they are not comfortable at talking,” adds Macy. “We all have ideas that we must present and get others to believe in, and now is the time to deepen our selling skills and strengthen our ‘gut’ and step out of our comfort zones. Bill showed them how easy it can be to share what he knows.”

Carter’s life “also reflects the idea of taking advantage of moments presented,” notes Macy, singling out his story about accompanying his brother to a civil service exam in Dallas, then taking it himself on a whim. His score eventually resulted in his job with the Secret Service.

“Bill encouraged the students to find their God-given path that was embedded in them from the beginning,” says Macy.

But Carter cautions that today’s college kids “need to find more than just a job, but meet the expectations of success—and understand that success is not measured by dollars and cents but by happiness.”

“After I spoke at George Washington,” he says, “I told the president of another college, ‘You ought to offer a course in life. You teach everything but what to do once you graduate–how to deal with society and the world. Hell, when I graduated, I was a survivor and knew I’d find some kind of job—and it didn’t matter what it was as long as I got paid! But I never had goals, and today, maybe, kids have too high goals set for them by parents and peers and whoever.”

Armstrong, who’s known Carter since the early 1970s, echoes Macy in quoting Reba McEntire.

“She said, ‘Nobody can tell a story like Bill can!’ But in all the time I’ve known him, he never, ever talked about Kennedy,” states Armstrong, who shot video of Carter’s MTSU talk for promotional use. “It was too emotional for him. But when his [2005 memoir] Get Carter–Backstage In History From JFK’s Assassination To The Rolling Stones came out, there were things about Kennedy that I never heard, and when we shot the video at MTSU, he talked about the assassination and there was even more things I’d never heard, and he was very emotional: He talked about how nice Kennedy was to everyone and spoke to everyone on their level, from maintenance people in the White House to Charles de Gaulle. And how he went to the White House the night they brought his body back—that stuff is emotional, and to hear it from someone who was actually there, first-hand!”

Carter also shared his conclusion regarding the assassination.

“It comes up every time, of course,” says Armstrong. “He’s very respectful of everyone’s opinion, but says, ‘This is what I know, and I interviewed everybody.’”

Having been sent to Dallas to interview everyone from Lee Harvey Oswald’s family and friends to his landlady, members of the Russian community, Jack Ruby, and witnesses at the Texas School Book Depository, Carter has always maintained that Oswald acted alone.

“It’s so powerful,” says Armstrong. “All of that—and such a great inspirational message of how a guy from Rector, Arkansas, whose parents were hard-working and with no wealth whatsoever, could get to the White House and the Rolling Stones. If we get him one or two corporate bookings, he’ll be on the preferred speaker circuit.”

As for more college bookings, Keel concludes, “We are already brainstorming on how we can bring him back to campus as often as possible!”

[The Examiner wrote the foreword to Bill Carter’s memoir Get Carter–Backstage In History From JFK’s Assassination To The Rolling Stones.]

Tales of Bessman: Minnie Pearl, Dick Nixon and the Grand Ole Opry House

After finding out Friday that the Grand Ole Opry House has joined the Ryman Auditorium in the National Register, I hastily knocked off a little piece for examiner.com reporting the facts, ma’am, just the facts. Among them was that then President Richard Nixon attended the grand opening of the Grand Ole Opry House on March 16, 1974.

I left out that it was nearing the end of Nixon’s presidency, as he would resign on August 9. In his hopelessly awkward, embarrassing and clearly guilt-ridden way, he was blatantly seeking what was likely his last refuge: at best a conservative audience that was still in his corner, at worst a bunch of hillbillies who probably saw him as too liberal. Who else but Roy Acuff introduced him, and he played piano and sang, and Tricky Dick notwithstanding, clumsily clowned with Roy’s yo-yo.

I made my first trip to Nashville two years later, and by the time President George H.W. Bush became the next sitting president to visit the Opry House—for the 1991 CMA Awards show—I was an Opry regular. In fact, I was either four rows in back and two seats to the left of President and Barbara Bush, or six rows back, two seats left. I can’t remember exactly because I was so stoned when I got there, as was my tradition at all black-tie events Nashville. Probably four rows, because I used to sick-joke that two rows closer and I’d have been within strangling distance.

It was at the height of my career then, and the CMA and Opry took care of me good. I do remember that everyone attending the show had submitted their Social Security numbers well in advance, for vetting by the Secret Service. Still, there were no metal detectors, and I didn’t feel like I was being surveilled at all, especially after it dawned on me that by constantly bending over and setting my notebook, pen, or program on the floor and picking them up again, it might well have looked like I was, say, assembling some kind of makeshift weapon.

I ran this thought past my pal Bill Carter, the next day, the Bill Carter who was the ex-Kennedy Secret Service agent who had taken Marina Oswald into protective custody immediately after the assassination, and who is on the first line of Page 2 of Keith Richards’ memoir for fixing his and the other Stones’ legal troubles from the 1970s on.

“Oh, they were watching you from the moment you walked in!” Bill reassured me.

I couldn’t find a video of Nixon at the Opry House to post with my examiner.com piece, so I settled on Minnie Pearl’s performance from that night. Here it is again:

“Come to see us at our new house!” Minnie implored. “We’ll treat you so many different ways, you’re bound to like one of them!”

She looks so adorable, doesn’t she? Beautiful in fact. She’d have been 61 then—a year younger than I am now. The hillbilliest person you can imagine, but you know it was total shtick: Born in the small mid-Tennessee town of Centerville, she was the youngest of five daughters of a prosperous lumberman, and graduated from what is now Belmont University in Nashville, then its most prestigious school for young ladies. She majored in theater studies, and taught dance for several years after graduation.

She went on to join a touring theater company out of Atlanta, producing and directing plays and musicals while creating her Minnie Pearl character, which she introduced in 1939, then brought to the Opry the following year. And while she played a hillbilly to the hilt, she stood up for the induction of harmonica legend DeFord Bailey—the Opry’s first African-American performer—into the Country Music Hall of Fame, which finally happened posthumously in 2005.

Minnie was also adored by the likes of Dean Martin and Paul Reubens, who brought his Pee Wee Herman character to a Minnie Pearl tribute show in 1992—a year after she suffered a stroke. I had seen her regularly at the Opry up until then, and always worshipfully said hi.

An Opry regular myself, I was particularly close to Grandpa Jones, Jimmy C. Newman, Skeeter Davis and Porter Wagoner—now also all gone—and Bill Anderson and Riders in the Sky–among the still living.

One time, not long before her stroke in June, 1991, Minnie appeared at the Jim Halsey Company’s annual hang at his Music Row office the afternoon of the CMA Awards. Agent/manager Jim Halsey had worked with everyone from Minnie to Roy Clark, Tammy Wynette, Merle Haggard, Hank Thompson, James Brown and the Oak Ridge Boys, and still works with the Oaks.

Jim’s son Sherman was a pal, and a talented and successful music video director and a wonderful guy. Sadly, he died, too, a year and a-half ago. When I got to Jim’s office that afternoon, I immediately hooked up with Sherman, and we both made a beeline to Minnie, who was leaving with her husband Henry Cannon. Sherman would have known Minnie all his life, but he was no less enthralled in her presence as I was. We just stood there, hanging on her every word, beaming ecstatically.

“Did you boys smoke pot?” she finally asked.

“No, Minnie,” I said, “but you can be sure we will before the show!”

Minnie was bedridden following her stroke. At first she was tended to at home. For some reason, I felt compelled to see if I could visit her, and for some reason, they let me. I went out to the house—a large estate home next to the Tennessee Governor’s mansion–but I don’t remember much about the visit.

Soon after, she was moved to a nursing home. My understanding was that Henry was very stern about who could visit her, and that I most certainly didn’t qualify. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

I’d become friendly with Minnie’s assistant, and it was through her that I managed to sneak in to see her every time I was in town, which at that time was three times a year. It was all done very secretly: She’d let me know when was a good time to go, usually mid- to late afternoon, when no one else was there. And sure enough, I’d get there and Minnie would be alone. The nursing staff expected me, and maybe Minnie did, too.

I say maybe, because Minnie was a stroke victim: She was partly paralyzed, and I was never really sure how great her grasp was on reality. I mean, we’d talk about what she’d been doing, and she’d say something like how much Garth Brooks loved her and had been in to see her the day before, which most certainly could have been true—he did in fact name his first daughter Taylor Mayne Pearl Brooks—and that the day before that she’d been in New York, which most certainly wasn’t. And that’s how it was with her: She talked nonstop, going back and forth from presumed reality to assured fantasy, and I had to hold on for dear life not only to keep up but to keep her going.

One time—I think it was the last time–she was in the day room when I got there. She was having a bad day. We started talking and she started crying, and the nurses looked on, like maybe I should leave.

“Oh, he don’t give a shit!” she said, and I had to bite my tongue not to bust up laughing—out of respect, of course, and undying love. They then gave me the ultimate honor of pushing her bed, wheels unlocked, through the hall and back to her room.

It was dark when I left, and as I walked to my rental car, I faced the ultimate horror: Henry!

Henry Cannon was really the perfect Southern Gentleman. Serious and polite, he ran an air charter service for country stars including Eddy Arnold, Hank Williams and Elvis Presley. I’d met him a few times but never really knew him. But I knew he knew me.

I was leaving, he was coming. We met in the parking lot halfway to my car.

“I want to thank you for always remembering Minnie and coming to see her,” Henry said softly. “I know it means a lot to her.”

I was so dumbfounded I don’t remember what I said, or that I said anything.

Minnie died on March 4, 1996, from complications from another stroke. She was 83.

Nixon was 81 when he died almost two years before Minnie. That they were both at the grand opening of the Grand Ole Opry House on March 16, 1974 was probably all they had in common.

Tales of Bessman: Why Not Jazz?

I’m weeping openly as the waitress pours what’s left of the bottle into the glass. Surely there is nothing more sad, really and truly and metaphorically.

Sad, too, watching the adorable kid with the illustration of a moose on her sweatshirt. It looks so much like Bullwinkle J. Moose but it can’t be. It would say so if it was, and if it were she wouldn’t know Bullwinkle J. Moose anyway.

“And is it ‘was’ or ‘were’?” I wonder sadly as I take the last gulp.

I’m at Whynot Jazz, a tiny basement jazz venue below Whynot Coffee & Wine in Greenwich Village, corner of Christopher and Gay. I’m sure he gets it all the time, but I still felt stupid asking  the guy in the newspaper stand at the Uptown Christopher Street #1 train entrance where Gay Street is. Good of him to tell me without snickering.

The little toddler in the moose sweatshirt (maybe she was three years old, tops) had a cute little Samurai topknot and might have been Japanese. She was dragging her mother over to the corner where Leni Stern was leading her trio, made up of Amanda Ruzza on bass, Alioune Faye on a djembe goblet drum with four metal rattles standing around the edge, and Stern herself, of course on guitar. All are magnificent musicians, all here from elsewhere.

German-born Stern is a longtime New York resident (she’s married to renowned jazz guitarist Mike Stern) and also plays n’goni, a traditional West African lute. Her latest album Jelell employs Senegal’s mbalax rhythms and features Faye, who hails from Senegal.

Ruzza is from Brazil and plays with everyone she can, from country music (she toured with Nashville-based country show band Mustang Sally before moving to New York) to jazz. She’ll be at City Winery next week in Jill Sobule’s band.

She was wearing a “Kiss Me I’m the Bass Player” t-shirt. It made me think of the classic “Kiss Me I’m Polish Polka,” that I always associate with my dear friend, the late Eddie Blazonczyk, king of the  Chicago Push-style Polish polka: “Kiss me, I’m Polish/How ‘bout a kiss?/Kiss me, I’m Polish/That is my wish.”

Don’t ask me to come up with a greater verse in the history of recorded music.

I was tempted to share it with Amanda, but didn’t, wisely, perhaps. As noted, she’s pretty broad-minded, but polka, sadly, remains a stretch even for the most musically adventurous.

As it turned out, I did not have my “Kiss Me, I’m a Freelance Writer” t-shirt on. Rather, I ran out with a frayed gray Five Points Academy martial arts class t-shirt on, with Five Points emblazoned in Thai script on the front. I made it to the ground floor of my fifth floor walk-up before rightly thinking I should dress more for the occasion, and ran back upstairs to put on my still intact black “Rector High School Helping Hands” t-shirt, which I got three years ago when I went to cover my pal and Rolling Stones savior Bill Carter’s Helping Hands Foundation in his tiny hometown of Rector, Arkansas.

Meanwhile, the little girl with the moose sweatshirt was squealing up a storm. Stern, however, was delighted, and whynot? It was just the girl, her mom and (presumably) her dad, me, the waitress and the club manager in the room–Whynot Jazz being a new venue.

Stern played directly to the kid. She told her a Malian story about a cat who stole the moon—at least I think that’s what it was about.

My hearing is bad. The last time it was checked was years ago in New Rochelle, at the Ladies Professional Golf Association’s JAL Big Apple Classic tournament at the Wykagyl Country Club.

I had friends at the LPGA back then, and had a Clubhouse Pass allowing me into the clubhouse—but not the locker room.

They were giving free hearing tests in the dining room, but there were no takers. The poor girl doing the testing pleaded with me to take it, so I did, with a feeling of dread.

I put on the headphones, and she started asking me standard questions, i.e., my name, address, etc. A couple minutes went by and she was still typing away, while I became more and more apprehensive.

I finally said, “You’ll let me know when the test begins, right?”

“It just ended,” she said. “You’d better see your doctor.”

I never did see my doctor. The JAL Big Apple Classic no longer exists.

I don’t know why the cat stole the moon—or if the cat stole the moon. Or if it was a cat and the moon.

But I still hear the little girl with the moose sweatshirt squealing.