Gene Odom's Upcoming Book

Lynyrd Skynyrd, Ronnie Van Zant and Me





Chapter #1

1974

"If You want to talk Fishin, that'll be o.k."



The phone started ringing while it was still dark. He looked over at the alarm clock and crawled out of the perfectly warm bed. As he answered the kitchen phone, the voice on the other end said, "Are you ready to go yet?" He smiled a sleepy smile. His buddy, Ronnie Van Zant was ready to go fishing. Gene looked out the window over the sink. The street lights allowed him to see that the wind was calm and the car hoods were dry up and down the street. He grabbed a bottle of RC cola out of the refrigerator and went back to the bedroom closet to put on some jeans and a t-shirt as quietly as possible. He didn't want to wake his wife Brenda Joe and little Melissa. He grabbed his wallet, kissed his wife on the cheek, and headed out to the car port to gather his fishing gear. He could hear the truck coming up Mull Street as he picked up his tackle box. He nearly dropped everything as he turned to leave the garage. Maybe later today would be a good time to talk to Melissa about how to use the kickstand on her bike.

The truck stopped in the middle of the street. Gene opened the truck door to be greeted by a long haired rock n' roll star that was truly glad to see him. "How's it going Buddy?" The radio was playing "Silver Wings" and Merle Haggard sounded like he meant every word. As the truck ambled slowly around the corner it was just like it had always been. Two young men from the same neighborhood, the same school, the same world. Yet the dreams were different. Life can sure throw some curve balls.

It seemed like yesterday that these same men were just teenagers barely 15 years old "jukin' "at some neighborhood party trying to act cool, hoping to meet a girl. Any girl..."How is life on the road? You know you’re gettin' pretty well known for tearing up hotels. Doesn't that hurt the bottom line just a little bit?" Ronnie looked a little bit embarrassed. "Man, those hotels are like being put into some kind of prison. We spend day and night together and sometimes you just want to blow off a little steam, you know? The music is all that matters anyway. And maybe bad press is better than no press." Gene just laughed and said, "You are gettin' press, there ain't no doubt about it. I'll tell you one thing, when this music thing slows down, if it ever does, we ought to get you into politics. You know people hear what you’re saying in those songs. We could get you to be Governor and maybe I could be like a fishing ambassador or something.

The water was slick as glass when they dropped the boat in. There was a sliver of pink showing off in the eastern sky. It was going to be hot, but not until later in the day. Right now, all things seemed perfectly aligned to catch a fish.

"I stopped by Claude Hamner’s midway grocery store yesterday. That "Curtis Loew" song has really put some smiles on some faces around here. I'm not really used to hearing Skynyrd when I'm buying bologna for my lunch at work." Ronnie laughed and said, "I can't believe all of this is happening myself. Me and Gary and Allen were talking about it the other day during sound check. It seems like yesterday we were running around the block throwing rocks and sneak in' cigarettes." A mullet jumped out of the water making a splash 50 feet from the boat. "You know I can feel that bass swimming our way right now. One of us is going to catch a monster." Ceremoniously, the water broke across the top as Ronnie’s pole nearly fell out of his grip. Gene! I've got something on the other end of this thing! It truly was a trophy and Gene had never seen his friend happier. It was May 1977…



The following poem was written by a young Gene Odom not too long after the Lynyrd Skynyrd plane crash. He had apparently started writing as a type of self induced therapy. This poem and several others appeared in a book written by Gene titled “Lynyrd Skynyrd I’ll never forget you”. (Ten thousand copies were made and self published by Gene. While traveling with the groups The Rossington Collins, The Allen Collins Band, and finally Molly Hatchet, Gene sold the books after the shows)

The Phone Call

The bird still fly’s around my home

The fish still hangs on the wall

That old truck still runs the same

And I’m just waiting on you’re call

Those 4:30 calls we used to make

To wake each other up

Are not forgotten to this day

And probably never will be

The poles are now gathered with dust

The boat sits idle and free

Fishing trips I take these days

are not what they used to be

I lay and stare at the phone

and wait for it to ring

All of a sudden I remember

I’m only in a dream





Chapter #6

1956

“Searchin’ for soda bottles and get myself some dough”



The little boys’ feet were pedaling slowly down Mull Street. He was focused on maintaining his balance as he delivered five more soda bottles to Claude’s Midway grocery around the corner. It was early Saturday morning, the dew was still on the ground, and it was about to be a hot one.

The man in the white apron was Claude Hamner. He was the owner and was always glad to see the little boy. The wooden screen door screeched open and Claude couldn’t help but smile. Little Gene Odom was delivering his weekend recovery for pocket change. “I looked up and down all the ditches and parking lots as well as the dirt track. Maybe tomorrow morning I can find a few more.” “Not bad work for a Saturday morning Gene. Here’s your money and the moon pie and the RC is on me. A working man like you needs to keep his strength up.” The little boy just smiled as his small hands took the moon pie and ice cold drink. “Thank you, maybe I can find a few more bottles tomorrow morning.” Just as he turned for the door, a white Marita Bread delivery truck pulled up beside the little store. Gene got on his beat up bicycle and pedaled for Ronnie Van Zant’s house. Ronnie was already out near the street throwing a baseball up in the air.

“What’s going on?” “Just gettin’ rich three nickels at a time. What’s up with you?” “Not much. Do you want to head over to the trees on the third turn of Speedway Park this afternoon? We can watch the race and maybe a tire will fly over the fence. We can sell it back to one of the drivers and make some folding money instead of a pocketful of nickels.” “Sounds like a plan, but if the plan falls apart we’ll go fishin’ when it cools off at the creek o.k.?” Ronnie smiled. “I’ll see you in a few hours. When dad get’s home, I gotta help around the yard for a little while. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can get away”.

Gene pedaled off. It would be a good day to just hang out and dream of being on that track with the great Lee Roy Yarborough and Wendell Scott…

Later that day, Ronnie and Gene found themselves fishing. No tires came over the fence that day, but the race had been exciting. The stands had been full even in the extreme Florida heat. Some guy named Bobby Allison had won the final race and had got to kiss the pretty girl with the crown and was given the trophy. That man was living the dream.

Watching the bobber in the nearly still water of Cedar River, Ronnie seemed to have something on his mind. “Gene, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life waiting for something to happen. I’m going to make something of myself one of these days.” The Cedar River kept moving gently towards the St. Johns River a few miles away. Some dreams fade away like current in a stream. Others burn like a light that won’t burn out no matter what life throws at you. That’s when a dream turns itself into a vision and a true vision won’t die.

There has been speculation of just who Ronnie was referring to when he sang about the little boy picking up bottles early in the morning in “Curtis Lowe”. Most likely, the portion of the song that was sung as in first person experience was really about Gene. This song in particular had several characters in Ronnie’s mind that he brought together to represent one little boy and one black guitarist. As a young boy, Gene has told me that Ronnie would have been too proud to be out in the community ditches picking up empty bottles to sell. Ronnie’s parents had good jobs so he probably didn’t need to worry about extra spending money. Gene on the other hand, had come from an entire litter of brothers and sisters. He had to do some extra work even at that age if he was going to have any change in his empty pockets. The Van Zant’s back porch was often one of the places Gene would find some empty bottles to redeem for a little spending money.

Tom Ferrell, one of Gene and Ronnie’s boyhood friends has been helpful in bringing the old neighborhood to life. The west side neighborhood, or shantytown as it was sometimes called, was a mix of working people. But, just because people worked hard, didn’t necessarily mean that all of life’s basics were covered. Several of the homes in that immediate area had dirt floors, and many of the homes didn’t have indoor plumbing. Gene’s grandmother for instance, lived just around the corner from his parent’s house and she didn’t have indoor plumbing. Because of the size of Gene’s family, private space was hard to come by. Fortunately, The Odom’s had an older bachelor neighbor named Gordon Hess. That gentleman liked Gene and saw the potential in the young boy. He fed Gene his supper nearly every evening and allowed Gene to take his baths there as well as wash his clothes. Like I mentioned earlier, the people in the neighborhood looked after each other.