After I graduated high school in New Hampshire, I wasnt living at home any more, I didnt have a plan or ay kind of direction. I had a job at McDonalds that I kept for a few years, from my last years in high school through graduation. I took after Harry in a few ways, one of which was that I was a night owl. I was more comfortable being up at night, so I usually had the closing shift at McD’s, but I wanted something else. I’m not sure why. Across the street from McD’s there was a Mr. Donut that was hiring for the overnight shift and I decided to apply on a trial basis while keeping my job at McDonald’s at the same time. I just staggered my work days so they didn’t conflict with each other. And then one night as I was working the drive thru at Mr. Donut, the owner of my McD’s franchise came through and accused me of leaving him to work for Mr. Donut. I tried to explain that I hadn’t quit and that I even had scheduled work days that week and next, but I guess he was taking it kind of personally. So I ended up quitting McD’s after all, and signed on for the graveyard shift at Mr. Donut full time. The baker at Mr. Donut worked 2nd shift, and when I came in for 3rd shift I would finish off all the donuts he had baked, fill them with filling, or cover them with sprinkles or whatever. Mmm, glaze. Hey I was still only 19 or 20, when you’re that age you feel invincible. I wasn’t overweight then, I didn’t have my diabetes or any of that. Those were good times, because donuts are donuts but a fresh one right out of the oven is transcendent. Anyway, I formed a good relationship with the baker, he was a nice guy. We got along well, and we used to talk while he was finishing up the baking before he went home for the night. Eventually he asked me the question I still get a lot even today: “Hey, so about your last name… are you any relation to Harry Nilsson?” I explained that, yes, he was my dad. The baker was really excited about this, and told me he was a huge Nilsson fan and had been for years. We talked for a while about Harry’s music, and what kind of person he was, and I liked this guy so it was nice to talk with him about Harry stuff. I told him Harry loved speaking with his fans, and he said “Oh man, I’ve always wanted to talk to him, and ask him about his music.” “Hold on a sec,” I told him as I went over to the phone on the wall and dialed Harry’s number. I was in New Hampshire, California was 3 hours earlier than we were, and I figured it wasn’t too late to call. “Hello?” Harry’s voice was unmistakeable on the other end of the line. “Hi dad, it’s Zak. How are you?” “Zak! It’s good to hear from you, buddy. How are things out there on the East coast?” “Oh it’s fine, things are good. Hey listen, can you do me a favor? I have a co-worker here who is a huge fan of yours. Do you have a few minutes to talk with him?” I knew this was not a huge favor I was asking, because Harry loved to talk with his fans. This happened all the time with Harry, everywhere he went. Harry was no stranger to strangers, if you’ll pardon the Harry-ism. “Sure, put him on. What’s his name?” I told Harry the baker’s name, and turned to look at the baker, and held the phone out to him. The baker had heard my side of the conversation, and he had the kind of look on his face that you’re picturing in your head right now. Realizing that he was keeping Harry Nilsson waiting on the other end of the phone, he quickly moved over and took the handset from me. “Uh… hello?” he asked with some trepidation. I couldn’t hear what Harry said, but the baker’s face immediately broke out into a huge grin that stayed in place for the duration of their conversation. They talked for a while, more than just a few minutes, and it was clear to me that Harry had managed to put him right at ease. I knew that would happen, because that’s what Harry did. He was the everyman’s superstar, he was everybody’s best friend. The baker hung up the phone, and stood for a moment in silence. He turned to look at me and said “That… that was amazing. I can’t thank you enough.” “Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “I’m glad you got the chance to talk with him.” “I’m never going to forget that as long as I live.” he said. I ended up getting fired from that job a few months later because I was having trouble staying up and getting everything done. I make no excuses, I was never very good at jobs that didn’t really interest me. The owner had told the baker to let me know, but he never could bring himself to do it, so one night I came in to work and they were already training my replacement. Of course I didn’t blame the baker, it wasn’t his fault. He and I remained friends, and for a while after that I used to stop in some nights and we would talk. Harry died only a couple years after that, and I hadn’t spoken with the baker for quite a while at that point. And a few years after that I moved to California. I never spoke with the baker again. This story sticks with me because of the way Harry treated his fans. This was not the only time I saw Harry interacting with fans of his, I saw it happen quite a few times, and I always thought it was very nice of him to be so accommodating with his time. The truth was, Harry was grateful for his fans. He needed to hear that people loved what he did, because he worked so hard at it and thought it was great, and rightly so. But since he didn’t tour, didn’t play out, didn’t make appearances, he didn’t get the kind of feedback he needed. So when the opportunity came up to talk with somebody about his music, he treated them like family. And that always made me happy. And proud.
Posted on: Mon, 08 Sep 2014 07:28:39 +0000
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