quote:
John Mayer's well-honed sense of loyalty
MICHAEL J. DALY
Article Last Updated: 01/12/2007 09:18:54 PM EST
Last Saturday night around 6:30 I was snuggled in at home with "A Prairie Home Companion" on WSHU, 91.1 on your FM dial.
I was in Guy Noir mode. You know, nursing a martini and mulling life's persistent questions. It was shaping up as a nice night.
And then my cell phone started with its annoying ring. I let the call go into voice mail. At the first break, I checked the message. It went like this:
"Hey, Mike. It's John Mayer. I'm taking advantage of some post-nap Zen thinking, before the maniacal braincells wake up and work against me.
"I'm feeling very goal-oriented right now," the young man went on. "I'm coming back into Fairfield tomorrow, so I want to sit down with you, maybe&. if you have time."
I called back and told him, "I'm listening to Garrison Keillor here, ya know?"
It had little impact. He wanted to talk and wanted to get together the next day.
I was still feeling Guy Noirish. "Wait, let me check with my girl," I said. My daughter Julia, 20, was nearby.
"Hey, Sugar," I yelled, "how's my calendar look for tomorrow around 2 p.m.?" Julia rolled her eyes. "Looks clear, Dad."
I've always been a sucker for polite, Grammy-winning, genius musicians who are considerate enough to ask me if I have time to talk with them. So I said "okay."
-Sunday afternoon — I brought Sugar with me just in case John Mayer ever decided to misquote me and give me a headache in the tabloids — we met on the hush-hush and the QT at the Starbucks on the
Post Road in Fairfield. It wasn't all social. In fact, we had an agenda: to strategize in the matter of Walgreens and the mega-company's desire to put a store in the now-vacant site of a former food market in the Stratfield section of Fairfield.
Niceties out of the way, we got down to business.
"So what do you think? A concert at the Quick Center to raise some money?" he asked.
Not enough time, I said. The town Planning and Zoning Commission may be acting within a few weeks. The Stratfield Village Association, though, could probably use a contribution to keep up the fight.
So the other day he called Maryann Garcia, the SVA lady, and sent her a check. John Mayer is arguably the hottest musician on the planet at the moment. Why's he giving up time on a Sunday afternoon — he would be leaving the next morning for three days in San Francisco to help Steve Jobs introduce the iPhone and then leave on a five-week tour of the Eastern United States — to talk about a vacant supermarket?
Because he is more than an enormously talented, enormously wealthy performer and celebrity. Less visible to the public is a sensitive young man who has strong memories of growing up in Fairfield — for better and for worse, by the way — a well-honed sense of loyalty to friends, family, community and to a code of living.
"I'm going to die a guy," he said, "not an artist."
He makes decisions as John Mayer the person, not John Mayer the star.
Ditto for the selection of friends. Just for the record: In an hour-long conversation that covered a lot of ground, he brought up his whirlwind holiday week in New York and a friend he called "Jess." The few thoughts he spoke on the subject — they're going to stay private — were, in my mind, at least, infused with affection.
But back to the store.
"Hey, it was my first job," he said. "I have great memories of that first job." On a prior occasion he talked about putting tunes together in his head while he was pushing carts in the parking lot and stocking shelves at what was then the Gran Central Market, sort of a Mississippi Delta in the career of John Mayer.
John Mayer is not taking the mantle of "The Anti-Walgreen." He just wants to help preserve the neighborhood he grew up in, and where his parents still live. "I'll keep in touch from the tour," he said. As we wrapped up, it was getting dark outside. The people in Starbucks had been very cool. Lots of foot traffic past the table, but nothing over. Someone had written on his coffee cup in black marker, "Love Your Music."
"That's nice," he said when he noticed it. The three of us walked outside. "I'm gonna go home and spend a few hours with my parents," he said. Jules and I headed in one direction, he in another. But the Starbucks door opened and two girls ran out.
"JOHN!!," they yelled.
He stopped, turned around and walked back and was talking with them as we pulled off, his reunion with his parents put off for yet another few minutes.