Between the village of Anwick and the town of Sleaford in Lincolnshire, England, lies a farmhouse.
It is at this farmhouse that our journey begins.
Robert is a stockman on a farm. Daphne is his wife. Their little boy, Bernie, is born in that little farmhouse by lantern light because the house is much older than electricity.
When Bernie is five years old, his father is promoted to farm manager, and they are moved into a house with electric lights.
Bernie thinks, “Now we are living the good life.”
He leaves school at 15, but his mother has given him a love for literature and her father “Poppy” has injected him with a love for nature and narrative poetry.
Bernie sends a few of his poems to a music publisher in London who is looking for song lyrics.
That same publisher is talking to a young man named Reggie who is looking for a way to leave “Bluesology,” a mediocre local band that plays songs while the patrons of local restaurants eat fish and chips. Reggie says to the publisher, “I’m very good with music, but I can’t write lyrics. I’m hopeless.”
The publisher responds by handing Reggie an unopened envelope that he snatches from the top of the pile on his desk. He says to Reggie, “See what you can do with that and get back to me.”
Neither Bernie nor Reggie are accepted by the music publisher, but they are accepted by each other. Bernie mails poems to Reggie in London, and Reggie writes the music that turns Bernie’s poems into songs.
You have heard many of these songs, I’m sure.
According to Jordan Runtagh,
“‘Rocket Man,’ ‘Honky Cat,’ ‘Crocodile Rock’ and ‘Daniel’ all immediately shot into the Top 10 in rapid succession. By 1975, they were responsible for 2 percent of all records sold on the entire planet. That same year they released Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, which became the first LP in history to debut at the top of the Billboard chart.”
Reggie is Captain Fantastic and his farmboy friend Bernie is the Brown Dirt Cowboy.
Reggie knows, of course, that he is unlikely to become famous as Reggie Dwight, so he creates a new name from the names of his former bandmates, Elton Dean and John Baldry.
As “Elton John,” Reggie writes the tunes that make Bernie’s poems famous around the world. Some of those tunes are “Your Song,” “Levon,” “Tiny Dancer,” “Candle in the Wind,” “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting,” “Bennie and the Jets,” “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” “The Bitch is Back,” “I’m Still Standing,” and “I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues.”
In 1973, Bernie was traveling to concerts with always high, out-of-control Elton, doing the job each day of all the king’s horses and all the king’s men by “putting Humpty Dumpty back together again.”
When the Brown Dirt Cowboy decided that he didn’t want to do it anymore, he wrote his brother a letter of departure:
“When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land? I should have stayed on the farm. I should have listened to my old man. You know you can’t hold me forever. I didn’t sign up with you. I’m not a present for your friends to open. This boy’s too young to be singing the blues. So goodbye yellow brick road where the dogs of society howl. You can’t plant me in your penthouse. I’m going back to my plow. Back to the howling old owl in the woods hunting the horny back toad. I’ve finally decided my future lies beyond the yellow brick road.”
“What do you think you’ll do then? I bet they’ll shoot down the plane. It’ll take you a couple of vodka and tonics to set you on your feet again. Maybe you’ll get a replacement. There’s plenty like me to be found, mongrels who ain’t got a penny sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground.”
Reggie Dwight did what he always did. He wrote a tune and sang what Bernie had written.
In the days when an album that sold a million copies was a “Gold Record,” Reggie and Bernie’s album, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” sold 30 million copies.
A few years ago, Bernie Taupin spoke of the “inseverable bond” of brotherhood that he and Elton have shared for 60 years.
“In the insanity of our lives, there’s nothing better than the times when we get to sit down, just together. Like those moments in the dressing room, about a half an hour before he goes on, when I’ll go in and see him and there’s nobody else in there, and it’s just he and I. The calm before the storm. It all comes back. When we’re just alone with each other, it seems like a frozen capsule of time that everything we’ve ever done together inhabits. That’s magical to me.”
Bernie, I think I speak for a lot of other people when I say that your partnership is magical for us, as well.
Roy H. Williams
How are you spending your 1,440 minutes each day?
Ron Lieback learned time management from riding a motorcycle. Despite his hectic schedule, he still finds time to ride at least 30,000 miles a year.
Motorcycle riding requires precisely the same focus and foresight that is required to gain control of a demanding schedule.
The farther you can see down the road, the better prepared you are to avoid distractions, navigate obstacles, and reach your intended destination.
Join roving reporter Rotbart as he learns from Ron Lieback how to see further down the road.
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