As we approach the end of the year and fifteen years of doing this, some holiday nostalgia. A sports personality once asked me, “Who was the biggest interview you’ve ever done?” When I told him…he said, “I wish I could have been there, myself.”
When I was first introduced to BJ Thomas in August of 2015 he stuck out his hand and said, “Have we ever met before?
The singer/crooner from Texas was performing at the Fraze Pavilion in Kettering, along with Ronnie Milsap, and his publicist had fore-warned me that interview time was short.
“We have to make a private plane back to Dallas,” he said. “BJ can give you ten minutes. That’s all.”
But five minutes into our dressing room rendezvous I discovered that Thomas, who had just brought the house down with hits like Eyes of A New York Woman, Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head, Hooked On A Feeling and This Time The Girl Is Going To Stay cared more about the music and people’s perception of his ability to perform at 72 years old than he was about getting to the plane on time. Indeed, it didn’t seem like a first-time meeting, though I had never seen him before.
“Private planes don’t leave until you get there,” he said.
As to the performance, it was vintage BJ Thomas, the point of my interview with him. Singers like that love to hear that they sound as good now as they did when they were at the height of their career. And five minutes into our time together Thomas was hopelessly hooked, appreciative that someone had noticed his having survived an up-and-down, ragged past.
“I’ve been very fortunate,” he said candidly. “There was a time in my life when I smoked, did too many drugs, and didn’t take care of myself, or my voice. A lot of singers I know have had their issues…[Larry] Gatlin, [Kris] Kristofferson, others…but there was a point in my life when I had to make a commitment to myself…or just quit. I realized I was taking a God-given gift for granted.”
He added, “I owe a lot to my wife Gloria for helping me through those times.”
We talked about the music, his favorite song, as well as the fans’ favorites.
“Some of most satisfying things I’ve done were the gospel albums I did in the 80s, given the life awakening I went through.
“But the fans have always liked Raindrops (Keep Falling On My Head),” he said with a big grin. “That’s the song that made me financially secure and gave me freedom to pursue my career like I wanted to. I owe that to Burt Bacharach, and don’t have to sing Raindrops on demand now, even though I still like to.
“But when people ask me what me personal favorite is I tell them it’s Hooked On A Feeling. They just seem to have fun when I sing it, and I’m still kinda’ hooked on the feeling that they do. I think they believe it’s the song that sounds the most like BJ Thomas, the way they remember him.”
And indeed, released back in 1968 Hooked On A Feeling would become one of the iconic pop tunes of that era – click on the following link to relive it for yourself.
Of all the names and no-names I’ve met over the years, sports and otherwise, Thomas was the most down-to-earth, comfortable, and appreciative of them all. We talked for about thirty minutes before he picked up his performance clothes and made his way out the side door of Fraze to a waiting car.
Along the way…people with CDs, albums, and autograph books pressed him to sign. He took the time to do them all. Private planes don’t leave until you get there.
That interview appeared on Press Pros in August of 2015, now nearly a decade ago, and just months before I met another memorable subject when former Notre Dame national champion football coach Lou Holtz came to the state basketball tournament in Columbus that winter to be inducted with the OHSAA Circle of Champions.
Holtz, like Thomas, was affable, relaxed, and a joy with whom to visit. I shared that with him as we concluded our time together, and Holtz, who’s as gregarious as he is entertaining, asked, “How long you been doing this?”
“A few years,” I answered.
“Well who’s the biggest name you’ve ever interviewed?” he asked, now the one asking the questions.
Wanting to answer him graciously – politely – I told him about the night I met BJ Thomas.
“Oh,” said Holtz. “The guy who sang Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid (Raindrops Keep Fallin’). I wish I could have been there myself.”
I smiled.
As it turned out…two of the best moments of my journalistic life, uniquely connected.
But sadly, I never crossed paths Thomas again, even though he lived a mile from my cousin Paul Fulks, in Arlington…Texas, and invited me to call when I was in town to visit. Thomas died of lung cancer in May of 2021. He was 78.
Still hooked on that feeling!