Showing posts with label Nashville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nashville. Show all posts

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Stringbean's Killer Wins His Parole



News reached us this week that the convicted killer of David "Stringbean" Akeman has been granted parole.

I was a boy when Stringbean was murdered in November 1973. My family was living in Nashville while my father was on sabbatical. The weekend that Stringbean was killed, my father was at some kind of educators' conference, and my mother took my brother and me to Chattanooga, where we spent the weekend in the Chattanooga Choo–Choo hotel, which was a hotel made out of an actual train.

It wasn't until we got back to Nashville late that Sunday that we learned that Stringbean and his wife had been murdered by burglars at their cabin in the country late Saturday night.

Well, at the time, no one knew that it had been burglars — although the police must have suspected as much. The cabin had been ransacked.

I told the story of the murder of Stringbean on the 40th anniversary of that event last year. I don't really have much to add to that, just some thoughts on the occasion of his killer's parole.

We left Nashville before the Brown cousins were tried for the murders of Stringbean and Estelle so I have no memory of that. But I vividly remember seeing the picture below on the front page of The Tennessean, Nashville's newspaper, the Monday after the killings. See those Xes? They indicate where the bodies were found. The one at the doorway is where Stringbean was killed. The one near the cars shows where Estelle's body was found.

I suppose, if I had been one of Stringbean's friends and colleagues, I would be bitter about the parole, too, as The Tennessean is reporting. Most of Stringbean's contemporaries and co–stars on the TV show Hee Haw are gone now, but some are still around, and they opposed the parole. It was granted, anyway.

The Brown cousins were each given two 99–year sentences for taking the two lives, which adds up to a 198–year sentence apiece. The cousin who did not pull the trigger died in prison a decade ago; the cousin who did pull the trigger is being paroled after serving 40 years. That is not an insignificant length of time, but whoever it was who handed down the sentences, whether it was the judge or the jury or both working together, the fact is that it was decided at the time of the trial by a person or persons who heard all the testimony and saw all the evidence that neither of the defendants should ever walk the streets a free man again.

Judges and juries are asked to do some of the dirtiest work imaginable in a democratic republic. They are asked to sit in judgment of someone else, and they often have to see and hear some gruesome things in order to do what they are asked to do. (I speak from experience here. For about a year and a half, I worked as a police/courthouse beat reporter for a newspaper in Arkansas.)

When they do that thankless job, their decision should be respected. Forty years may seem sufficient punishment to you, but whoever handed down the sentences clearly believed neither man should be free.

Why do I say that conclusion was clear from the sentence? Well, you have to go back to biblical times (or a vampire novel) to find the last person who — supposedly — lived to be more than 200 years old. It just doesn't happen in modern times.

I'm not one of those eye–for–an–eye guys. Five years ago, I argued that Susan Atkins, a member of the infamous Manson Family who killed actress Sharon Tate and her house guests in 1969, should be granted parole on compassionate grounds. (Atkins did not receive that parole, by the way, and died of brain cancer in September 2009.)

If Stringbean's killer had been stricken with a deadly disease, I might have supported his parole — for the same reason. (I say "might have" because it is a hypothetical — speculative in nature — and I prefer not to speculate about what my reaction would be to a hypothetical circumstance.)

But Atkins' was a compelling special circumstance. I haven't advocated the parole of Charles Manson or any of his followers who have been in prison for more than four decades. If a compelling special circumstance does not exist — and there isn't one in the Stringbean murder case, as far as I know — then I believe a sentence that has been handed down by a judge or jury or both should be upheld.

Today, I have found myself remembering those days long ago and how the murders of Stringbean and Estelle marked the end of the innocence of Nashville's country music community. String wasn't a country music performer so much as he was a bluegrass performer. Well, that's my opinion. He played the banjo, and I have always believed the banjo is a bluegrass music instrument, not a country music instrument.

He performed regularly on the Grand Ole Opry, with country stars and bluegrass stars alike. (I have always regretted the fact that my family never went to the Opry while we lived in Nashville.) In fact, he had been performing at the Opry the night of his murder. The last song he ever sang was a song he practiced backstage with another performer — "Lord, I'm Coming Home."

I read every story about the killings, watched every news report. I knew all the grim details. In my mind's eye, I could almost see the whole thing as it played out. It was pretty intense for a young boy.

It was pretty intense for Nashville's country music community, too. Before Stringbean's murder, performers at the Opry would often have drinks with their fans at nearby bars after the show. That stopped after String's murder. Before the murder, many folks in Nashville — not just the performers although they were notorious for it — left their doors unlocked at night. That stopped, too. In fact, my memory is that door lock and gun sales went up, as did the demand for the home security systems of the day. The performers started hiring bodyguards.

It had truly been a simple, innocent time. And it was over.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

The Murder of Stringbean



In the autumn of 1973, my family was in Nashville. My father was on a four–month sabbatical there.

There was at least one weekend that fall when Dad was out of town for one reason or another. He was probably attending a seminar or something — I don't really remember. What I do remember is that Mom and my brother and I went to Chattanooga that weekend. It was about a two–hour drive from Nashville, I guess. Mom wanted to see the famous Chattanooga Choo–Choo, which was popularized by Glenn Miller. (Yes, there is one.)

We drove to Chattanooga that Friday and returned to Nashville on Sunday. It was only after we got back that we learned what had happened in our absence.

David Akeman, known as "Stringbean," and his wife, Estelle, had been murdered at their rural Tennessee home. Stringbean had performed at the Grand Ole Opry that Saturday night, and they got home late, interrupting a burglary. According to the story that emerged in the investigation and trial, the two were shot and killed shortly after their arrival.

Akeman was an amiable sort, quite popular among Grand Ole Opry patrons and viewers of the cornpone country TV variety show Hee Haw. Even though we lived in Nashville for a few months, we never managed to go to the Grand Ole Opry so my memories of Stringbean are from Hee Haw. Tall and wiry, Akeman made the most of his appearance. As part of his act, he wore an extra–long shirt and a pair of short blue jeans that was belted around his knees, giving the impression of a tall man with short legs.

Stringbean was a young man during the Depression, and, like many of the folks who came of age at that time, he didn't trust banks. This was fairly well known in Nashville. It was also fairly well known — or, at least, it was often said — that Stringbean kept a fortune in the little country cabin in which he and Estelle lived.

Fact was, Stringbean did keep a sizable amount of money in his home, but it wasn't the kind of fortune that drew two men to that cabin on a cold November night. They expected to find much more, but, by entertainment industry standards, even the considerably lower ones of 1973, Stringbean was hardly a wealthy man.

The thieves never found the money that Stringbean kept hidden on his property.

In fact, all they took that night, besides the lives of Stringbean and Estelle, were a chainsaw and some firearms. That proved to be their undoing. Grandpa Jones, Stringbean's friend and hunting/fishing companion as well as Opry partner, testified at the trial and identified a weapon that was in the killers' possession as one he had given to Stringbean as a gift.

Grandpa Jones found the bodies on Sunday morning, Nov. 11, 1973.

My memory of that time is that all of Nashville mourned Stringbean's murder. When I heard what had happened, it was only a few hours after the news had broken, but already there were indications all over the city of the depth of grief it was experiencing. It wasn't a global thing, like when Elvis Presley died a few years later, but it was a big story locally.

My family remained in Nashville for about a month before we returned to Arkansas in December 1973, and developments in the investigation — even when there were no developments — led the newscasts and were on the front pages of the newspaper every day.

Eventually, two cousins were convicted in the case. As I recall, only one was convicted of actually pulling the trigger, but both were held responsible under the felony murder rule, which holds that if a person commits a felony that results in the death of another, that person is guilty of murder as well.

More than 20 years later, Stringbean's cash stash was found. It had been hidden behind a chimney brick and had deteriorated to the point that it was not usable.

The man who pulled the trigger is still in prison. His cousin died in prison — of natural causes — 10 years ago.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Everything Old Is New Again



I've been having some odd thoughts as I have watched the city of Nashville experience a devastating flood.
  • My father was a college professor in Arkansas when my brother and I were growing up. And, for about four months in 1973, the whole family lived in Nashville while my father was on his sabbatical.

    Obviously, that was many years ago. I don't think I've been in Nashville since that time. But I did live there for awhile. Many things have changed — but not the names of streets and waterways and buildings that were standing then and still stand today. Hearing the names brings back memories I haven't thought about in a long time.

    For example, one of the buildings that was standing when my family lived in Nashville was Ryman Auditorium, the original home of the Grand Ole Opry.

    For more than 30 years, Ryman was the Mecca of country music. The Grand Ole Opry show made Ryman, which began its existence as a tabernacle, its permanent home in the 1940s, and just about everyone who ever amounted to anything in country music performed there at some time during the next three decades.

    But, as it turned out, the Opry relocated to a larger facility that was part of Opryland the year after my family left Nashville. And, for nearly 20 years, Ryman stood empty and unused, until Emmylou Harris came to do some shows in 1992 and made an album of the songs she sang there. Apparently, that revived local interest in the place (which is known as "the Mother Church of Country Music"), and it was restored for use as a performance venue and a museum.

    Now, the Grand Ole Opry House and other local landmarks have been submerged in floodwater. As a result, the Grand Ole Opry is returning to Ryman for weekend shows, apparently indefinitely

  • It seems ironic, to me, that this should happen at this time. It was 15 years ago today that my mother died in a flash flood here in Dallas. And this flood seems to have caught Nashville as much by surprise as the one that struck Dallas in 1995.

    I always had the feeling that Mom really enjoyed the time we spent in Nashville. And, while I would never say that she — or I — had much interest in the Opry, I guess we developed a kind of a local interest in it and the people who performed there.

    I will always remember that she seemed genuinely sorry that David Akeman ("Stringbean" in the attached video clip) and his wife were ambushed and murdered on their rural Tennessee property about a month before we moved back to Arkansas. Perhaps that is why I make a mental connection between Mom and Nashville.

  • Well, things sort of seem to have come full circle now.

    I never got to see an Opry show when I lived in Nashville, but I hope those who see one at Ryman while Opryland is being restored appreciate the rare opportunity they are being given to experience the Opry the way so many experienced it back in the day.
And I hope that Nashville — and the Gulf of Mexico — recover faster than most people think they will.