Five-part harmony: Allen loves hoops, follows the Big Blue

(During my chat with Duane Allen, of the Oak Ridge Boys, we briefly talked about his passion for basketball. This also appeared in the Aug. 28 edition of The Anderson News.) 

Had Duane Allen not become a mega-success with The Oak Ridge Boys, chances are he would have become a highly-successful basketball coach at some level.

At least, that is how he had it planned.

“I get right into the very intracacies of coaching,” Allen said last week before taking the stage at the Kentucky State Fair. “I had dreamed when I was in school that I would be doing this until I got tired of it. I never dreamed it would last as long as it has.

Duane Allen, left, and William Lee Golden at the Ky. State Fair.

“I wanted to get an education degree so I could teach. I dreamed I would probably wind up in some school teaching music and coaching basketball. I love the game that much.”

Allen says as a high schooler in Texas, he was a 3-point shooter before there was a 3-point line. “It didn't mean any more than a layup then,” Allen chuckled.

The Kentucky Wildcats became one of his favorite basketball teams, a passion that was cemented over the years. “I have always loved Big Blue basketball,” Allen says. “My wife is from Kentucky (Bowling Green), my son-in-law is from Lexington. One of my children went to Kentucky for two years, one went for a year.”

Both eventually transferred to be closer to their Nashville home.

Allen's son, Dee, is a Nashville musician. Daughter Jamie is married to Paul Martin, who spent some time with the popular central Kentucky group, Exile, and now plays in country singer Marty Stuart's band.

For Duane Allen, the Big Blue roots run deep.

“My daughter was (former UK athletic director) C.M. Newton's secretary and worked in Rick Pitino's office when he was with the Big Blue,” Allen says, “so I went to a lot of Big Blue basketball games. I really like John Calipari. I met him when he was in Memphis.”

Allen, though, is a fan of many teams. He, and several other members of the Oak Ridge Boys, support Vanderbilt, the major college team in their adopted hometown.

The preferences of someone who has made a living singing four-part harmony should not come as a surprise. He loves five-part harmony on the hardwood.

“I love great basketball when it is taught as the game of life,” Allen says. “Of course you have to put the ball in the hoop, but you also teach the game of life like John Wooden taught (at UCLA). I am a fan of team basketball. Traditional basketball. I am not much of a fan of attitude players. They come and go and they come at every school. I am not putting my finger on one or another or talking about this one.”

Duane and Joe Bonall fist-bump during the singing of "Reach out and Touch a Hand."

Teams Allen follows sounds like the lineup of the most powerful names in college hoops history. Not only does he follow Kentucky, he mentioned North Carolina as another favorite along with a guy Cat fans love to despise.

“Indiana, when Bobby Knight was there,” Allen smiles. “I loved Bobby Knight, I don't care if he did throw a chair. I liked him because he built strong character in his players. I liked Arizona when Lute (Olsen) was out there. He had strong, strong teams and good people.

“I like Gonzaga right now. They have great basketball and teach them about the game of life and turn out good men.

“I like schools that turn out quality people with character. Basketball is not a game of how hot-shot you are. It is a game of skill. It is not how heavy you can knock somebody to the floor to shoot a layup.”

When done right, it's simply five-part harmony.

Going the extra mile is only natural for Oak Ridge Boy

(Note: One of the perks of my job as sports editor of The Anderson News is that I am often given the opportunity to sit down with interesting people. Occasionally, they are nationally famous. Such was the case when I was given the chance to interview one of the giants of the music industry, Duane Allen, of The Oak Ridge Boys, before the group's concert at the Kentucky State Fair. I found him to be even more engaging than I expected and one of the nicest people I have ever met. Here is that story, which appeared in the Aug. 28 edition of The Anderson News.)

Duane Allen has only one rule for fans getting his autograph.

Be polite.

“All they have to do is remember one simple phrase: Be polite,” the country and gospel music legend said last week. “Just be polite. Nobody likes somebody that is rude.”

Duane Allen interacts with fans at the Ky. State Fair.

After sitting down with Allen less than two hours before he and his fellow Oak Ridge Boys took the stage at the Kentucky State Fair, I can't imagine him being any other way.

I am sure he was the same way the night he touched down in Lawrenceburg 48 years ago.

Long before he had performed before presidential audiences and became a household name in country music, Duane Allen sang at the Lawrenceburg Fair.

An advertisement in The Anderson News of July 8, 1965 invited readers to hear one of the hottest gospel groups of the day, The Prophets, at the fair the following week. Their newest member was the 22-year-old Texan singing baritone.

Working his way through Texas A&M – Commerce, Allen graduated in January of 1965. “I got my first offer to sing with The Prophets in April. On my birthday, April 29, I had my first concert with The Prophets,” he says. “I sang with them for a year and that is when we came to Lawrenceburg.”

It would probably be a stretch to say Duane Allen remembers that date. But I was there. Allen's blue eyes lit up and a big smile crossed his face when I related to him how I can still remember my aunt, Myrtle Perry, being so excited to see the star of the show, Big Lew, The Prophets' tenor.

Duane Allen singing "I Get To."

“Big Lew Garrison was a wonderful person,” Allen recalled. “He was one of the funniest people I have ever met in my life. To work with him on the road was like working with a full-time comedian.

"Lew sang so high that we had to have somebody sing under him. Singing baritone for The Prophets was like singing lead for other groups.”

Allen, who had also worked as a minister of music in Paris, Texas for two years, thought he had arrived. He thought he'd sing gospel music for several years before settling down to teach music and coach basketball.

That, however, was before Uncle Sam set an incredible chain of events in motion that eventually took Allen to the top of the music industry: Duane Allen was drafted.

He resigned from The Prophets and sold his car. Despite telling Army doctors that he had been treated for a heart condition since he was 3-years-old, Allen passed all of his physicals and appeared headed straight for Vietnam.

But just before heading to Fort Polk, La., Allen was pulled out of the group of draftees. “The man told me, 'The fact that you have this condition and you have been treated for it, if we put you on the front line and if you had a flare-up, you could own the Army. We can't afford you. We have to give you a medical discharge and you will never be called again,” Allen says.
Without a car and 130 miles from home, Allen called his banker who agreed to cover the cost of a car and work out the details of repayment when he got a job. Knowing the Oak Ridge Boys had been pursuing him about an opening in their quartet, Allen purchased a 1966 Buick Riviera and headed straight to Nashville to see if the job was still available.

Joe, Duane, William Lee and Richard at the Ky. State Fair.

There were no cell phones. There was no e-mail. He just drove all night.

“I went into the Oak Ridge Boys' office and the secretary put the phone down. She walked back to where the other three (Willie Wynn, Herman Harper and current Oak William Lee Golden) were. They came back and said, 'What are you doing here? We thought you were in the Army.'”

After heading to a church and singing several songs, the group offered Allen a full partnership. It was only later that Allen learned the group had told the secretary to try to call him one more time. If that was not successful, the group was prepared to disband.

It all happened in a matter of days.

There's little doubt that Allen firmly believes the God he loves and worships was active. The obvious question is if Allen's deep faith was strengthened by how things transpired.

“I have always had my faith,” he says. “This was just another example of how God works in my life, directing every step I take.”

Over the years, Allen has seen the Oak Ridge Boys become one of the most beloved groups in American music history. The current lineup first performed together in October of 1973 and when they performed at the state fair last week, it was the 37^th straight year the Oaks have been in Louisville in late August.

This year's show was on the turf at Cardinal Stadium after the grandstand had been ruled unsafe and is being prepared for demolition.

“We've been around so long, we have outlived that stadium,” tenor Joe Bonsall quipped during the show.

It is a show that was two hours of high-octane energy that belies the fact that Allen, Golden and bass singer Richard Sterban have all celebrated their 70^th birthdays. During last week's show, I was seated near a man who had to be pushing 80 but was dancing with the Oaks. Behind me was a group of teenagers doing the same.

The music celebrates positive values, honors veterans and simply makes fans happy.

Duane Allen and the Oaks were commissioned Ky. Colonels

During the state fair show, a Kentucky State Trooper joined the Oaks on stage to present them with their commissions as Kentucky Colonels by Gov. Steve Beshear, who honored the group for their many humanitarian causes.

There is little question about the music's root. Country hits like “Dig A Little Deeper in the Well” and “Make My Life with You” have an unmistakeable gospel sound.

Even the group's megahit “Elvira” sounds like something that could be heard at an all-day-singing-and-dinner-on-the-ground.

“Some of the traditions in gospel music are wonderful,” Allen says. “I learned so much from gospel music. Our four-part harmony came from southern gospel music.

“I never really left gospel music. I just left the business. I have always loved gospel music and I still do. We just quit working the

business end of it.”

That happened in the late 1970's.

Still, every Oak Ridge Boys' show has a distinctive gospel flair. Last week, those songs included a rocking version of an old standard, “Where the Soul Never Dies” and an acapella rendition of “Amazing Grace” for an encore.

“I love gospel music,” Allen said. “It is my foundation. But it is not my goal to preserve gospel music or country music in its form. They are constantly changing. My goal is to keep the Oak Ridge Boys relevant, so when the cycle comes back around, to be relevant and include me again.”

Even though it has been years since they have had a huge hit, there is little question that the Oaks are relevant today.

During our time together, I found Duane Allen to be one deeply rooted in his Christian faith and carrying an unswavering positive outlook on life.

“My foundation for God came from my family who taught me,” he says. “My experience with God is a personal thing. I didn't get that in gospel music. I took it to gospel music when I went. I didn't get God in country music. I took him where I went. I just found God was already there.

“I want Him in my life and I don't put conditions on where He goes.”

Duane and me after our chat.

Early in the summer, I found out how to contact Duane Allen for an interview I have wanted to do for several years. When I did, I explained that I have a hearing impairment which would prevent a phone interview and that it should be face-to-face.

Instead of brushing me off, Allen replied, “John, I am going to do my best to make this happen.”

Several days later when my wife called the number Allen provided, it was apparent he already had done just that. The interview was already set up. To our surprise, he invited my wife to join us for the chat.

I asked Duane Allen why he did that for a Christian sports writer he had never met. “I very rarely do this before a show,” he said. “It is using my voice. I am paid to do a show. But I wanted to do this for you because I knew your physical condition you described. It made sense to me. We'll do it. Why not make that happen? So the way you make things happen, you go the extra mile.”

It's more than just being polite. It's being a Christian.

What happened to decency?

(Note: this is my column from the Aug. 21, 2013 edition of The Anderson News.)

Just when you think things can't go any lower, you realize they are.

In case you missed it, the state of California recently passed a law that allows student-athletes who identify themselves as transgender to choose which sex-segregated athletic teams they desire.

California Gov. Jerry Brown signed the bill into law last week.

Really. I am not making this up. I wish I were.

Athletics are not the only thing covered under the law as it allows transgender students to choose which school locker rooms and bathrooms to use.

Words cannot describe the insanity of such a law, which I first read about on the Schooled in Sports blog on the Education Week website.

The new California provision reads, “(f) A pupil shall be permitted to participate in sex-segregated school programs and activities, including athletic teams and competitions, and use facilities consistent with his or her gender identity, irrespective of the gender listed on the pupil’s records.”

Really, that law passed in California. It is set to go into effect Jan. 1, 2014.

Un. Be. Lieve. Able.

I have been getting paid to write about sports since 1985 and make no apologies that I am heavy on the games at the high school level. I thought I had seen it all until I read about this lunacy.

Thank goodness I live in Kentucky, where we are so “backward” I seriously doubt something this “progressive” would even get off the ground.

Let me say that over the years, I have seen female athletes who I believe could compete with males. That is especially true in non-contact sports, but I have seen girls' basketball players who I think could hold their own with the guys. Several years ago, a girl wrestler medaled at the Kentucky state wrestling tournament.

But let's face it. That is the exception rather than the norm. Usually, when the games are the same, the male version of sports are faster paced, more physical and played by bigger people than the female version. If you don't believe me, check out the world records in track and field, then let me know the result.

(Hint: Males usually run faster and jump higher.)

That being said, I could actually come around to girls playing boys' sports, even at the high school level. If a girl can slam dunk or run for a touchdown, so be it. Nothing should deny her the opportunity. The girl wrestler who medaled at the state tournament several years ago underscored this belief.

But playing on the field is much different than allowing someone to choose the locker rooms and bathrooms he will use.

During my writing career, I have been in many locker rooms. Guys are changing clothes, coming out of showers and the like. Over the last few years, I just began to usually wait outside the locker room to talk with a player. It just seems more professional and respectful.

And I am old-fashioned enough to believe the privacy of the locker room should not be violated.

Another Education Week blog, Rules for Engagement, pointed out that Massachusetts has a similar law and that school administrators are to talk with kids who are not comfortable with a transgender person sharing a locker room or rest room.

In other words, if common decency bothers you, you are the one with the problem.

Thankfully, this law is not even close to Kentucky. I doubt it would ever be passed in our state. At least not in my lifetime, it wouldn't. My only fear would be the federal government getting involved and mandating insanity for all 50 states.

From this corner, high school sports are wonderful educational tools. So many life lessons can be learned through sports, but insane political agendas need to be left on the sideline.

Better yet, keep them out of the arena all the time.

Children can teach all of us many lessons about racism

(This column, dealing with some of the racial issues in my hometown, appeared in the Aug. 14, 2013 edition of The Anderson News.)

 I recently had a very serious talk with my 12-year-old daughter.

We were driving to Louisville on U.S. 60, west of Simpsonville, when I pulled into what is now known as the Whitney Young Job Corps Center.

Fifty years ago, however, it was simply known as Lincoln Institute.

We didn't get out of the car, just drove around the campus while I told her how Lincoln Institute existed as a school for African-American children because most communities would not allow them to attend the local schools.

It was the price many good people paid simply because of the color of their skin.

With the simultaneous innocence and insight of a 12-year-old, my daughter simply said, “That's stupid.”

I am so glad she feels that way.

It was stupid. It was just plain wrong that Anderson County, like nearly every other locale south of the Ohio River – and many north of it – had separate schools for children with dark skin. However, many who attended Lincoln Institute believe their education was superior to the one the white children received.

I don't doubt that a bit.

Fifty years ago, however, Anderson County stopped sending young people to Lincoln Institute as Anderson High School integrated in the fall of 1963. Many other counties were doing the same thing at the same time and less than three years later, Lincoln Institute closed its doors as a high school.

I grew up in Anderson County and didn't start school until the fall of 1964, when I enrolled in first grade at Alton School. Every single kid in the entire school was white. I know I thought nothing about it because I did not know anything differently.

I was fortunate as child. It would be naïve to think I was raised with a strong understanding of race relations in an era when they were making the news nearly every day. White kids, like me, didn't know. We had not experienced discrimination, so we couldn't really know.

Still, I was blessed to be raised in a home that did not intentionally tolerate racism in an era when people were often denied service in a restaurant because of the color of their skin. My parents taught me to respect all people, regardless of color. And after being told I was not to use the “N-word,” I never tried to find out what my punishment would be if I did.

I'm thankful.

Yet, the older I got, the more I realized the Anderson County I called home was far more segregated than I ever realized. Was it blatant racism or the result of people unknowingly being products of the time in which they lived? Many of the ones that truly know have passed on, so we will never really know.

It probably doesn't matter. The shameful results were the same.

I never saw separate bathrooms or water fountains designated “white” and “colored,” but heard the latter term used so many times in reference to so many aspects of life, that I did not know it was hurtful as well.

I went to a school that was all-white and knew there was an elementary school on Lincoln Street for children who had different color skin than mine, even after the high school had integrated. That was just how it was.

But even as a little boy, I had become a sports fan who counted Cincinnati Reds center-fielder Vada Pinson as one of my heroes. I can remember thinking it was odd that kids who looked like him were treated differently than me.

I grew up in a town that had a swimming pool but an unwritten rule that African-Americans were not welcome. As a kid, I did not know things could be different.

But, like my daughter today, I thought it was stupid.

Thankfully, much has changed.

Lincoln Street School eventually closed in the 1960s, but the legacy of Mr. Coleman, a wonderful man who headed the school, has lived on in the lives of many of his students.

Three of my children graduated from Anderson County High School and counted many people of different races as their friends. They had African-American teachers, something that would have been unheard of 50 years ago.

It can't be denied that the world has developed a much better understanding of racial issues in the 50 years since Anderson High School first integrated. But it would be foolish for anyone, of any color, to think there is still not a huge gap to close.

As a sports writer, I long for the day when teams primarily made up of African-Americans are no longer referred to as “athletic,” while all-white teams are not automatically termed “intelligent.”

I looked forward to the day when someone who is not white could realistically have a chance to become President of the United States. I had hoped that person would have been Colin Powell, but that was not to be.

Now that someone who is not lily white has been elected as the leader of our country, I long for the day when people can disagree with policies – which I strongly do – and not be accused of doing so simply because of his skin color.

(Admittedly, it would be foolish to think racism is not at the root of some opposition and at some of the President's support as well. That is a different column for a different day.)

It's probably unrealistic to think we will ever live in a colorblind society. We are all shaped by our life experiences and perceptions which will affect us throughout our lives.

That doesn't mean, however, that a colorblind society is not a worthy goal.

Most of all, I long for the day when we all heed the words of Dr. Martin Luther King: "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."