Let me start by saying that I love Jimmy Buffett, and feel incredibly sad about his death. Like everyone else, I sort of believed he had another 20 years of concerts ahead of him. He was, in his own way, timeless.
Everybody knows what a remarkable songwriter, author, businessman, and person he was, but this is even more true if you had the opportunity to have a conversation with him. His lust for life permeated everything, and left you full of gratitude. That “every day’s a gift” mantra? Not very many people actually live it with their actions and attitude. He did.
He used to spend a lot of time in Hawaii. He was a member of the Outrigger Canoe Club, too. I was on the membership committee when he applied. No, we did not require that he come in for the typically obligatory interview.
When I heard that he would perform an impromptu concert at Duke’s on the beach in Waikiki, I told my editor that I thought we (as in, I) should cover it. She seemed skeptical, but was more enthused when I reported that nearly 2000 people had lined up for the chance at a $25 ticket. I remember walking up and down the line, identifying myself and asking if anyone would speak to me. Everybody looked away, pretending they didn’t hear me. One of my more awkward moments. But they had all ditched work and didn’t want to get busted! I think I managed to get two quotes. The editor threw it on the front page, which reduced the word count, so I didn’t need much.
I was escorted to the front, where I stood within 10 feet of Jimmy performing. The crowd and buzz were insane. Everybody was so happy. Seriously. It was magical. Everyone sang along until he introduced some new music, which ushered in a level of quiet the crowd did not seem capable of attaining. But they listened carefully to songs they would soon know by heart.
After the concert, Jimmy gestured for me to follow him through the crowd. I was trying to get a quote from Jimmy, but the man could not get an inch to breathe as he signed autographs, shook hands, responded to drunk and sober high-fives, and smiled. I asked how he managed this all the time. He grinned at me. “Gotta keep moving!”
We did.
The deadline was upon me — a daily newspaper, after all. So I retreated to the the din of the hectic bar and dictated the story to an editor via cell phone (old days). I asked the promoter if I might be able to speak with Jimmy for a follow-up story on his (book) writing. The promoter said he’d ask Jimmy and get back to me. Jimmy was due to leave town soon, so I really didn’t think it would happen. But hey, it never hurts to ask.
The next night, I was walking to my car after a school event for one of my children. My phone rang. No ID. I answered cautiously.
“Hey, Katherine? This is Jimmy.”
I paused.
“Jimmy Buffett,” he continued, undeterred by my idiotic silence.
“Uh-huh.” Was this real?
“You wanted to talk to me? How about if we meet tomorrow at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, after I surf?”
I mumbled yes, please. Or thank you. Or something unmemorable. And the next day, he came out of the water and invited me up to the Presidential Suite at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, where we talked for an hour about book writing and song writing, devoted fans, travel, flying, surfing, life. He was charming and unassuming and generous. It was absolutely lovely. I wrote more stories about him to justify the time together, which did not feel like work for one single minute.
Of course it didn’t.
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Here’s one of several articles I wrote about Jimmy. The picture is lame, for some reason, but you get the idea.
