Lee Dean: Heroes who took their final bow

These heroes took their fi nal bow in 2020

Lee A. Dean screendoor@sbcglobal.net So many illustrious fi gures left us in 2020 that I nearly asked the publisher to allot two pages for this column, in the belief that the normal 800 words would not suffi ce. Instead, I decided to stick to the theme of heroes, in one form or another, who took their fi nal bow in the last lamented year. Four of my musical heroes played their fi nal notes last year, including three of my remaining four giants in the musical genre known as “Americana.” (Willie Nelson is the last man standing.) I’m one of those people who like to quote song lyrics, and my most often-quoted songwriter is John Prine. His music was simple, but his use of language was genius and often complex, covering the entire emotional palette. All you need to do is listen to his fi rst album, which contains humor, sarcasm, tenderness, and the saddest song I’ve ever heard, “Sam Stone.” Prine’s State Theater appearances turned into giant sing-a-longs – we all knew the words by heart. Billy Joe Shaver wrote my theme song, “I’m Just An Old Chunk of Coal.” He and I share a devotion to Jesus. The difference is that his was quite unorthodox in method, expressing itself through the medium of outlaw country music. If you put me in charge of church music, we’d be singing “Everybody’s Brother” and “You Can’t Beat Jesus Christ” along with the timeless hymns of the faith. Jerry Jeff Walker was born in upstate New York, but he moved to Texas and became my on-ramp to the glories of Lone Star State music. Everybody knows his classic “Mr. Bojangles,” but he wrote and covered many other peculiarly Texan treasures and gave me another lyric that I hold in reserve when needed: “I’m not strange. I’m just like you.” My fourth hero came from north of the border. I wanted to play drums in the elementary school band. My mother, not wishing to be subject to any more unpleasant noises, vetoed my request and thus dashed any meager chance I had to grow up and be like Neil Peart. He helped Rush, a three-piece band, sound like 30 musicians. He also wrote the band’s intelligent and challenging lyrics. In sports, baseball took a particularly hard hit in 2020. You could fi eld the guts of an unbeatable squad with the players who died last year. The starting rotation would be Whitey Ford, Bob Gibson, Tom Seaver, Don Larsen and Phil Niekro. Lindy McDaniel and Ron Perranoski would be the set-up man and closer. These position players would look great in your team’s uniform: Dick Allen at fi rst base, Joe Morgan at second, Tony Fernandez at shortstop and outfi elders such as Lou Brock and the “Toy Cannon,” Jimmy Wynn. That leaves one outfi eld spot for my favorite ballplayer of all: Mr. Tiger, #6, Al Kaline. He never played a second in the minor leagues, was a consistent .300 hitter with power, and owned right fi eld at Tiger Stadium. More than anything, he was the epitome of a steady class and grace that seems to be missing from so many of today’s players. Can you imagine Al Kaline doing a bat fl ip after a homer, speaking disrespectfully of an opponent, or engaging in a contract holdout? Few heroes can be found among our political leaders, but we did lose one of them in 2020. John Lewis faced hatred with steely courage as a young man fi ghting for civil rights, suffering a broken skull at the hands of racist goons. In an era where so many politicians seem to be in it for themselves, Lewis served as a voice of conscience and a reminder that our worst times weren’t that long ago and that we still need some work to achieve times.

The curtain also came down on two actors who often portrayed heroes. There has been a long-standing cinematic debate over who was the best James Bond. To me, the answer is an easy one: Sean Connery. He was the ultimate Bond – cool, dashing, suave – and all at the proper time. My wife, the Viking Goddess, is not given to celebrity crushes. But the sight of Connery wearing a Russian admiral’s uniform in “Hunt for Red October” makes her weak in the knees.

Chadwick Boseman left us all too soon, at age 43. He was a brilliant actor who is most known for his starring role in “Black Panther,” a long overdue and worthy addition to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But my favorite Boseman role came in “42,” when he portrayed my other alltime top baseball hero, Jackie Robinson. Our last hero doesn’t fall under any category other than “great American.” During World War II, Chuck Yeager and his P-51 fi ghter plane became the scourge of the Luftwaffe. In 1947, while Jackie Robinson was breaking the color bar in baseball, test pilot Yeager became the fi rst man to break the sound barrier. He rose to the rank of brigadier general and became a symbol of American daring and fortitude.