Two Sundays ago, John Carter Cash woke up at four-thirty in the morning, drank some coffee, and kissed his wife goodbye. He got in his Ford F-150 and drove a few miles to pick up John Jackson Routh. John Carter is, technically, John Jackson’s half uncle, but the two men call each other cousins. “Actually, he’s more like a big brother to me,” John Jackson said. The pair like to fish together, and go to movies, but that day (after having consolidated their suits in one hanging bag) they were on their way to the Nashville airport. They were flying to New York City, for the première of “Ring of Fire,” a Broadway show built around the music of Johnny Cash, who was John Carter’s father, John Jackson’s step-grandfather, and the namesake of them both.
Thirteen hours later, John Carter and John Jackson were at the W Hotel in Times Square, attending a champagne reception to welcome them to New York. (Never mind that both men are teetotallers.) The sight of a bunch of blood relations walking around with drinks in their hands, along with the prevalence of all-black Cash-tribute outfits, made the event feel like a cheerful wake. “This is Jack Shaw—he’s our family’s spiritual adviser,” John Carter said, introducing a man with a pompadour. Shaw had come from Johnstown, Pennsylvania, to be with the clan. “I used to tour with Johnny,” he said. “I’d do a Bible study, and then, after the show, I’d stand to the side of the stage. Johnny would say, ‘There’s a minister here, if you need to talk.’ ” Jane Seymour, who was close to Johnny Cash, was there, clutching a rhinestone-encrusted minaudière in the shape of an acoustic guitar. Forty-five minutes before curtain, Bill Meade, a producer of the show, hushed the crowd. “We’re looking for the gods of Broadway tonight,” he said. “Cheers!”
“To John and June!” somebody hollered.
“And to Reba!” (Reba Cash Hancock, Johnny Cash’s sister, died on March 5th.)
“And Rosey!” (Rozanna Adams, June Carter Cash’s daughter, died in 2003.)
John Carter, John Jackson, and Jack Shaw waited in front of the hotel, so that they could walk Carlene Carter, who is John Carter’s half sister and John Jackson’s mother, across the street to the show. “Mama and John loved the theatre,” Carlene said. “They liked ‘Chorus Line’ and ‘Chicago.’ Before John Carter was born, Mama used to bring us to New York and let us see a show every three months.”
John Carter said that in the early eighties his parents would spend a quarter of their time in the city, and, as the youngest child, he often got to come along. “They had an apartment at 40 Central Park South. They’d come here at the end of tours, just to rest. We’d go to plays and we’d eat a lot. Probably the No. 1 thing was the Carnegie Deli: they’d always order lox, cheese blintzes, and matzo-ball soup.”
John Carter is a big man, with an auburn goatee and a rollicking laugh. His mellow manner is offset by the Cash eyes, penetrating and solemn. He was wearing black embroidered trousers and a matching tailcoat. “This is my father’s jacket,” he said, “made by Manuel.” He pulled it open to reveal a tag that read, in silver cursive stitching, “Johnny Cash.” In front of the theatre, Kelly Hancock, a cousin, watched John Carter perform his duties as keeper of the family flame.
“John loved that boy,” she said. “Had faith in him. Knew he could carry it off.”
Jack Shaw nodded. “Amen.”
Eventually, everyone went inside for the performance. “Did we do you proud, John Carter?” one of the producers asked afterward. John Carter said that his parents would have been “bubbling over.” He took a phone call from his half sister Rosanne Cash. “I tell you what—I really think they would’ve been crazy about it,” he told her.
At the party afterward, at the Marriott Marquis, John Carter reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a photograph. “My son was just born, on the twenty-seventh of February,” he said. He explained that his father had had a brother, Jack, who was killed in a table-saw accident at the age of fourteen. The new baby, Jack Ezra, will carry on his grandfather’s brother’s name.
