I cannot begin this story without first telling you that it’s about a good friend. I generally only use a small amount of a personal insight or feeling when I write a story. I just try and tell the story as it is and only add commentary that is needed to deliver the message. But this time, I feel personally involved with the story, because I admired the man I am writing about.

I cannot tell you much about his early life other than a few facts. Jerome Wayne Bailey was born into this world on December 8th, 1937, and he grew up in Humboldt, Kansas. He became a local celebrity as a TV sportscaster and the voice of the Kansas Jayhawks. Jerry was married three times and has a son and a daughter. There was obviously more to Jerry’s life than this, but it’s the last few years I can best share with you.

In his later years, he moved to Murfreesboro and became a staple of the local theater community. Between 2006 and 2011 he was in more than 25 shows, encompassing all the theatres in Murfreesboro. It was during this time that I met Jerry. We were both involved in a series of one-act plays at Patterson Park Community Center.

The thing I noticed about Jerry when I first shook his hand was his booming voice. When he talked, his voice filled the entire room. He wasn’t loud or boisterous; his voice just resonated. Then there was the straightforward and genuine nature of the man that endeared you to him. You just couldn’t spend time with Jerry and not come to like him. That was certainly the case with me. I liked him immediately. It was a pleasure to share the stage with him because he was larger than life. He played every role as if it were a real person, and he could make you believe in that character.

Jerry was also a pleasure to know in a social setting. When he chose to be (and he often did), he could be the life of the party. When you saw that cleaver grin, which was somewhere between a smile and a smirk, and a flowing tassel of long white hair, you just had smile yourself. He never seemed unhappy, always had a quick wit and spoke freely on any subject that intrigued him. He had that rare gift of being able to be completely comfortable with himself. He didn’t seem to care how he was perceived by others, but he was also completely devoid of the arrogance that comes with that kind of attitude. Jerry was truly blessed with an enduring charisma and happy-go-lucky charm.

All this has a point other than just telling you about how much the man was liked. On March 14, 2011, Jerry left this world and he left a huge wake behind him. Jerry went out in a style that would be worthy of any Shakespearian comedy/tragedy. I say comedy because, to this day, I still can’t shed a tear for Jerry. Every time I think of him, I can’t help but smile. Also, I say comedy because Jerry would have wanted it that way. Jerry was playing the part of Max in The Homecoming, a role which Jerry considered to be the most challenging he had ever done. During opening night, Jerry took the MLT stage and in the middle of Act One, while delivering a line, he collapsed on stage. Jerry briefly regained consciousness twice after that. The first time, he asked hospital staff what had happened. When they told him he had suffered a stroke, he responded in typical Jerry Bailey fashion by saying, “You gotta be shitting me!” The last time he regained consciousness he told his fiancée Marilyn Hibdon, “I need you,” and she responded, “I need you.” After that, Jerry slipped into a coma from which he never recovered.

The shock of Jerry’s death left the theater community reeling. For most thespians, the theater is like an extended family and to lose a member as well loved and respected as Jerry in such an ironic manner will take a long time to heal. That healing began during a memorial for Jerry on March 21 at the Murfreesboro Little Theatre. To call it a memorial service is not exactly accurate; it was more a celebration of his life. Jerry’s daughter Heather made a beautiful display of photos and mementos, complete with descriptions, that covered all of Jerry’s life. The evening was presided over by MLT President Jamie Storvik. There was a slide show and a video of Jerry’s theatrical career made by Nanette Araujo. Many of the guests, including myself, said kind words and relayed favorite stories of Jerry. Wayman Price read aloud some of Jerry’s personal poetry, and everyone in the room lifted a glass to Jerry’s memory.

As I mentioned early on in this story, I can’t tell it without personal insight. It is my opinion that this was the way all memorials should be. Although there were tears, they were fewer in number than the laughs. Any melancholy that existed in that room soon dissipated into a night of shared memories, stories and fellowship, all in honor of a good friend.

There is something else I feel compelled to add because it touched me deeply. I will run the risk here of raising the ire of my fellow thespians, but I feel this must be said. In theater, there are many creative, dedicated and talented people. When you put people like this together, they inevitably clash at times. Another side effect of being creative is that feelings are easily hurt. I have had mine hurt and I have hurt others, so I am as guilty as anyone in this. There are petty squabbles, jealousness and competitions, just like in any other family. But, even with the volatile personalities, theater is still a family. This fact was proven by the large crowd that occupied MLT’s log cabin that night. On any given weekend in our town, these people may be acting in any of the theatrical groups all over town. Competition will exist, comparisons will be made and performances critiqued and criticized. But, on Monday, March 21, 2011, everybody was family. They were there in the same spirit and feeling; they were there together. Together, to pay homage to their fallen comrade. I can’t speak for everyone, but that feeling of belonging is as much why I got involved in theater as any other reason. I believe that was also true of Jerry Bailey.

I spoke with many people before I started writing this story, not just gathering facts but searching for a way to write this story in the way to best honor a friend to us all. I spoke at length with his daughter Heather Bailey who told me funny stories about Jerry teaching her how to play blackjack before they went on a cruise when she was in college and how he helped her find frogs to feed her pet snake when she was 10 years old. His fiancée Marilyn told me stories of their all to0 short time together in their log cabin and that she had never known a love as deep as the one she had with Jerry. I got glowing quotes from all the theater groups in which Jerry had been involved. Everyone I spoke with gave me heartfelt words about Jerry that were worthy of including here. There isn’t enough room in this article to include all the good things I heard about Jerry Bailey. Then it dawned on me, I don’t have to tell it. A man that well loved doesn’t really need a memorial. He has a living one. He will exist in the hearts and minds of all those who knew him till long after those that morn his loss have themselves gone to meet their maker. So I decided that the only way to write this story was in my own words.

But I still felt I needed to add something everyone who knew him could relate to. I thought about this for a long time, and finally, I decided to make a simple statement that I think will speak for all who knew him—Jerry Bailey was my friend, and I will miss him. Go rest high, old friend, go rest high.