Harvey Brown, in full color
On my 16th birthday, Harvey Brown played a song on the piano for me.
"Travelin’ Prayer” by Billy Joel moved me deeply even at that young age, and I have never forgotten the way Harvey was absorbed into the music, his fingers flying across the keys and his raspy, true voice belting out tender lyrics to the crowd, oblivious to all of us, definitely not “entertaining,” but sharing something from his soul.
“Hey Lord, take a look all around tonight
And find where my baby’s gonna be
Hey Lord, would ya look out for her tonight …
And make sure that she’s gonna be alright
And things are gonna be alright with me …”
Harvey was wildly talented. A prodigy on the piano. I don’t think he ever had lessons.
Harvey loved to play the piano. I might liken the word baby in the above lyrics to a piano for H. If there was a piano around in decent shape, things were definitely alright with Harvey.
I used to have parties in my parents’ basement on Lexington Road, and often they were having dinner parties of their own upstairs. The first time Harvey left his buddies and made his way upstairs to the piano in our living room, I imagine my parents were surprised. Most everyone else wanted nothing to do with grown-ups ever, but especially on a Saturday night. Harvey probably nodded at them, a quick shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders, before sitting at the piano, giving a snort of a laugh, and beginning to play. He was magic on that piano. My parents and their friends left the dining room table and gathered around him in the living room, wanting more. More. My mother adored Harvey and still talks about those days.
On my 40th birthday party, hostess Denise Taylor insisted Harvey play for us. And he did. He put Leon Russell to shame. And I love Leon Russell. But the raw emotion that came from Harvey Brown when his fingers found their way to ivory keys was so moving it made you stop in your tracks.
My funeral is planned down to the illustration on the program. So is my husband’s. Both of us listed “Harvey Brown playing the piano” in our instructions. “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” was Dan’s request, and “Travelin’ Prayer” was mine.
Harvey died a few weeks ago. Long unable to play his beloved piano after a stroke, his last months were hard.
The night I learned that Harvey died, I pictured all the folks at my parents’ dinner party, Cotty and Tommy, Susie and Butch and my dad, gathering around Harvey Brown as he slid onto that heavenly piano bench, the pads of his fingers trembling as they finally hovered just over the ivory keys he knows by heart, and the outpouring of the music he played stilled all the angels.
So here’s for you, Harvey, from so many folks:
“Hey Lord, won’t you look out for him tonight
Cause it gets rough along the way
Say Lord, if this song seems strange
It’s just because I don't know how to pray
So won’t you give him peace of mind
And if you ever find the time
Won’t cha tell him we miss him every day.”
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Ferris Robinson is the author of three children’s books, “The Queen Who Banished Bugs,” “The Queen Who Accidentally Banished Birds,” and “Call Me Arthropod” in her pollinator series “If Bugs Are Banished.” “Making Arrangements” is her first novel. “Dogs and Love - Stories of Fidelity” is a collection of true tales about man’s best friend. She is the editor of The Lookout Mountain Mirror and The Signal Mountain Mirror.
Ferris Robinson