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Lynyrd Skynyrd Vocalist and Leader, Ronnie Van Zant
RONNIE HAD A FEELING…
“I Won’t Forget You When I’m Famous, And I Will Be Rich And Famous One Day”
By DOREEN DUBE
Florida Times-Union Special Writer
October 22, 1977
Ronnie Van Zant died a rock ‘n’ roll star. But he wasn’t always the idol of young teen-age girls, as he pranced around the stage with the rest of his group, Lynyrd Skynyrd, singing songs about Southern life into the microphone in a deep, throaty voice. I remember Ronnie as just another kid, growing up on Jacksonville’s Westside.
Music has always been Ronnie’s main interest. Our first conversation at the Westside Civic Center 12 years ago, after he and his group, then known as “The One Per Cent” had finished playing for a teen-agers dance, had been about music. And the last conversation I shared with Ronnie a year ago when I saw him at the Atlanta airport, had been about music.
Ronnie was a handsome, young man who had a trail of fans following him from youth club to youth club across the city, back in the late 60′s. He was warm and personable when he met them. He oozed Southern charm and hospitality.
Almost always clad in jeans, white shoes and a t-shirt, Ronnie resembled a hoodlum and carried a reputation of being quick with his fists at Lee High School. Once, after turning down a date with a boy from Lee because of a previous engagement with Ronnie, the rejected suitor asked with whom my date was. “Ronnie Van Zant of the One Per Cent,” I chirped proudly into the phone. “Oh then, never mind, and don’t mention to him that I even asked you,” the young man answered.
It was true, Ronnie was fast with his fists, but there was a very gentle side to him too.
I never heard him speak badly of anyone. He was exceptionally close to his family. He was loyal to his friends. He was admired and well liked by other local musicians. Adult chaperones at the local teenclubs thought he was well mannered and polite.
He had a little girl from an early marriage, he named Tammy Michelle, who he boasted fondly and freely of and penned a song in her honor.
He loved sports. I remember spending an entire evening with Ronnie coaching me on how to throw a baseball like Vida Blue. Many a Sunday, Ronnie was unattainable, because he was glued to a TV set watching football games about which he could talk your ear off with just the slightest encouragement.
Ronnie was soft hearted. A girlfriend of mine who was tremendously self-conscious about wearing braces on her teeth loved Ronnie dearly because he once told her, “I think you’re cute with them on. Braces are cute. And you’re going to be beautiful when they come off.”
While I was suffering through a bout of ulcerated colitis, Ronnie became my nurse and guardian, nagging at me to eat properly, scolding me for sneaking a beer, threatening to call my doctor, reminding me to take my medication.
After 6 years of a warm friendship with Ronnie, on my 21st birthday, he and two friends decided to throw a surprise party for me. But Ronnie blew the surprise with a phone call to me requesting that I pick up some beer to bring over to “the party.”
“What party?” I asked.
“Oh gawd,” he drawled, “your surprise party tomorrow night” which was followed by a gush of laughter.
And what a party. The house was filled to the brim with friends to help me celebrate. I thank Ronnie for making my 21st birthday a great memory to look back on time and time again.
Ronnie was a true Southern gentleman. No, he wasn’t Rhett Butler, but he had charm and was very gentle.
The members of Lynyrd Skynyrd liked to rough it up with fake boxing and wrestling matches. But let the fellows get rolling a little too much near the ladies and Ronnie was the first one to warn, “Hey, c’mon guys, there are ladies present,” and break up the match or guide it to the other side of the room.
He loved the fact he was from Dixie. Every song he wrote and every lyric he sang told the story of growing up in the South. He spoke like a true rebel. The word door was pronounced “doah,” a floor was pronounced “floah,” the word more was drawled out to sound like “moah.” And the more fun poked at Ronnie about his Southern accent, the thicker the drawl rolled from his lips.
He used to say, “You know, when I get rich and famous I won’t forget you or any of my friends. And I will be rich and famous one day.”
