The story behind Johnny Cash’s prison concert in Oklahoma

But did you know the Man in Black also played Big Mac?

Cash performed Aug. 19, 1974, for Oklahoma State Penitentiary (sometimes called Big Mac by Oklahomans) inmates.

“I can talk their language,” the country music icon said during his visit to McAlester.

Cash recorded four prison albums during his career — the two mentioned above, plus “På Österåker” and “A Concert Behind Prison Walls.” “På Österåker” was recorded in Sweden’s Österåker Prison in 1972. “A Concert Behind Prison Walls” was recorded at Tennessee State Prison in 1974 for a TV special (featuring Tulsa’s Roy Clark, Linda Ronstadt and comedian Foster Brooks). The recording was released as a “soundtrack” album after Cash’s death in 2003.

Cash didn’t come to Oklahoma with the aim of recording another prison album. He just wanted to do some good. The McAlester show was among dozens of free-of-charge prison concerts Cash staged while bringing awareness to a favorite cause, prison reform.

Cash was met with resistance in Oklahoma. After arriving by air in Tulsa, Cash said he was approached by a woman who accused him of coddling prisoners. He shared that story with inmates during his performance.

In recognition of the 50th anniversary of Cash’s McAlester prison show, here’s a look back at his trip to Big Mac.

Watergate preceded the gates of Oklahoma State Penitentiary opening for Cash. President Richard Nixon, wobbled by the Watergate scandal, resigned Aug. 8, 1974 — 11 days before Cash’s McAlester show.

Cash had performed for Nixon at the White House in 1970. Nixon apparently was not an expert on Cash’s body of work. An aide for Nixon requested Cash’s set include three songs: “A Boy Named Sue,” “Welfare Cadillac” and “Okie From Muskogee.” The latter two were Merle Haggard songs. Cash declined to perform Haggard’s songs at the White House. He guessed correctly that Haggard would get to do it himself someday.

In between the White House and McAlester gigs, Cash testified July 26, 1972, in front of a Senate subcommittee on prison reform. On the same trip, Cash huddled with Nixon to talk about prison reform.

Cash’s passion for prison reform led to an invitation from Oklahoma Sen. Dewey Bartlett to perform at Oklahoma State Penitentiary. Bartlett, who served as Oklahoma’s governor from 1967-71, was a music lover.

“He really liked the big band era around World War II,” former Tulsa Mayor Dewey Bartlett Jr. said about his father.

“At his Governor’s Ball, he had Count Basie — one of his favorites. At their home in D.C., he had five or so albums that he played most nights — Count Basie, Glenn Miller, Cab Calloway, etc. He played the stack one night, the next night he would flip them over and start the record player and he and mom would have a drink and maybe dance a few steps.”

Can Johnny Cash perform at your prison?

In hindsight, the answer is 100% yes. Grab your spot in history.

But, at that moment in time, Oklahoma State Penitentiary was like a kicked dog — wounded and wary about what could happen if you are too trusting.

In 1973, the year before Cash’s arrival, Oklahoma State Penitentiary was the site of one of the worst prison riots in U.S. history. Overcrowding contributed to the eruption. Prison capacity was 1,100. The prison population was twice that prior to the riot.

Said an entry in the Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture: Gov. David Hall’s refusal to sign parole recommendations for drug offenders and individuals convicted of violent crimes had contributed to prison overcrowding. Poorly trained correctional officers, violence perpetrated by “convict bosses” and other factors also led to prisoners’ discontent.

The riot began with (non-fatal) mess hall stabbings of Capt. C.C. Smith and Lt. Thomas Payne on July 27, 1973. Prison officials, including deputy warden Sam Johnston, were taken hostage.

A little more than three hours after the riot fuse was lit, the prison was ablaze. Hostages were freed the following day, but inmates remained in control of the prison until Aug. 4, according to the encyclopedia entry. Bomb slayer Rex Brinlee (mentioned by name during the Cash concert) escaped during the riot, sparking a multi-state manhunt.

The cost of the riot was three inmate lives and more than $20 million in damages to 24 buildings.

Restrictions were enacted following the riot. A prison rodeo, an almost annual event at OSP from 1940 through 2009, was nixed in the riot year. A Cash concert at the prison, if approved, would be the first outing for the inmates since all hell broke loose.

Ten months after the riot, Gov. Hall announced he would accept Cash’s offer to perform at the prison. The announcement made no mention of Bartlett, Hall’s former rival in a gubernatorial race. A Tulsa World story indicated Bartlett was surprised to see Hall taking all the credit for Cash coming to Oklahoma. The story said Bartlett had previously sent a letter to Hall asking the governor to join the senator in extending a formal invitation to Cash.

Cash told press in Oklahoma he was interested in the McAlester prison because of TV coverage of the riot. He said he had observed the prison “through news accounts for some time.” He was willing to visit Big Mac because he felt an obligation, as a Christian, to give something back.

In a Tulsa World story about Cash getting the green light to play at OSP, Hall said the state had been in the process of rebuilding the penitentiary since the riot and Cash’s offer to perform there couldn’t have come at a better time.

“Tensions have been high at times since then and a show starring Johnny Cash would be a morale booster of the first magnitude for our inmates who have undergone a long period of confinement,” Hall said.

Hall wrote in a column distributed to Oklahoma media outlets that church services had resumed at the prison and exercise periods were part of the daily regimen for inmates.

Three weeks prior to Hall’s Cash announcement, Hall said he made a special trip to the prison because of mounting tensions. Hall increased a Highway Patrol security force and named a new acting warden.

Said Hall: “Now, after a big effort by all concerned at McAlester, including the inmates, I’m able to accept the offer of America’s super country and western star Johnny Cash to come to the prison and entertain.”

Hall, when making it public that Cash would be permitted to perform at OSP, mentioned Cash’s interest in prisons and the outstanding work Cash has done “behind the walls” since leaving a penal institution himself.

Cash reaped benefits from an outlaw reputation, but, unlike Haggard, Cash never served time in a penitentiary. Cash “only” spent a night in jail here and there, including once in Starkville, Mississippi, for trespassing on private property to pick flowers. He performed the song “Starkville City Jail” during his 1969 concert at San Quentin.

Addiction caused Cash the most legal distress. Pills in a guitar case resulted in a 1965 arrest in El Paso. He was questioned by Oklahoma City police a few months later when he was pulled over following a concert at an amusement park. An officer found beer and an envelope of pills in Cash’s vehicle. He was freed after it was determined the pills were not narcotics.

Cash became synonymous with prison culture after the release of his 1955 hit “Folsom Prison Blues,” which contained the stark line “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.” He wrote “Folsom Prison Blues” after watching the 1951 film “Inside the Walls of Folsom Prison.” He was serving overseas in the U.S. Air Force when he penned the song.

Cash began performing prison concerts after the 1955 release of “Folsom Prison Blues” helped make him a star. His prison show debut was a 1957 concert in Huntsville, Texas. The song “Folsom Prison Blues” is about a convict who hears a train outside and it “tortures” him because he is stuck in prison.

“I always felt it one way of giving back to the American people some of the good they have given us,” Cash said in his 1976 autobiography “Man in Black: Johnny Cash.”

“And by doing a prison concert, we were letting inmates know that somebody out there in the free world was somebody who cared for them as human beings. With fewer crimes in our land, on our streets, as our aim, maybe when those men were paroled back into society’s mainstream, there’d be less hostility knowing someone had cared.”

By the time the book was published, Cash estimated he had done 35 to 40 prison concerts. His “album” concerts at Folsom and San Quentin took place in 1968 and 1969, respectively. Haggard was an inmate/audience member when Cash performed a 1958 show at San Quentin.

Cash wrote in his autobiography that he invited his father to go on the trip to record the Folsom album.

“That was quite a day, wasn’t it Daddy?” the country music star asked his father.

Replied Ray Cash: “You did mighty good, son.”

Cash promised Bartlett he would perform at Oklahoma State Penitentiary as soon as he was close to McAlester.

“Close” turned out to be about 700 miles away. Cash was in Denver the night before his McAlester show. He flew to Tulsa and traveled by car with representatives of the governor’s office to Big Mac. Cash footed the bill for his expenses and for his band’s transportation from Nashville.

Cash was joined by his backing band, the Tennessee Three, and Glen Sherley, who was an inmate at Folsom when Cash recorded his album there. The night before the Folsom show, the Rev. Floyd Gressett delivered Cash a recording of a song (“Greystone Chapel”) that Sherley had written about the prison church. Cash sang it at the Folsom show and mentioned a surprised Sherley by name.

Sherley (born to Oklahoma farmers who migrated to California) joined the Cash team after being released from prison, but fell out of favor and was fired due to errant behavior. Sherley took his own life in 1978. Cash paid for the funeral.

Back to 1974: A governor’s aide offered a restaurant lunch to Cash en route to the McAlester gig. Cash chose instead to buy bread and cold cuts at a roadside store, according to an Oklahoman story. Said Cash: “It’s a hot day and I don’t want to keep those (inmates) waiting on me.”

Temperature was a consideration because, despite an initial presumption the Cash show would take place inside the mess hall, the concert was held at the rodeo arena. Trusties built a canvas-covered stage for Cash.

Cash hoped to do the show publicity-free. His preference was for there to be no media in attendance, but a compromise was reached and seating was made available for about 30 journalists to cover the show — history, really — with restrictions.

Cash met with the media prior to the show. He said he had been told about criticism from Oklahoma citizens about his decision to perform at the prison. He indicated he was being accused of coddling prisoners and giving them a pat on the back when prisoners are supposed to be punished.

“But I’d just like to point out the fact that it’s those people living out there, in those towns and on those farms, that we’re doing it for,” Cash said.

“We’re doing it for the people. We believe that if these (inmates) realize that there’s a half a dozen of us that care about them as human beings, when they go outside, they’re going to remember that.”

Cash was asked what he tries to tell prisoners or what philosophy he tries to share with them.

Said Cash: “I don’t really try to tell them except here I am, you know? I care.”

The same security measures that would have been in effect for a prison rodeo were in place for Cash’s show, albeit with beefed-up law enforcement presence. It was reported that 18 or 19 Oklahoma Highway Patrolmen, including sharpshooters stationed in towers overlooking the rodeo grounds, were on site to support penitentiary guards.

During the course of the show, the guards seemed to relax, according the Oklahoman.

“Honest, I was awful uptight at first,” one of them told the newspaper. “Then I sorta got caught up in the whole thing and I caught myself singing right along with Johnny Cash.”

Granted clean apparel for the show, prisoners were shaken down before accessing grandstand seats. The Tulsa World reported the captive audience included about 650 “inside” inmates, 160 trusties and 47 female inmates who were seated in a different area than males. About 125 inmates declined to attend. Another 42 didn’t have a choice. They were locked up for disciplinary or security reasons, including protective custody.

Though Cash needed no introduction, he began the show with his standard line — “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash” — and sang “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” The show started early and ran overtime, even though Cash needed to catch a plane to Kansas City, according to the Oklahoman.

A Tulsa World recap of the concert said “near 100-degree heat gripped the prison rodeo arena as Cash sang his famed ballads of incarceration, stopping only for exchanges with an enthusiastic but orderly gathering.”

Cash shared his Tulsa airport story, telling inmates he was approached earlier that day by a woman who criticized him for entertaining prisoners.

“She said I was coddling you,” Cash said. “I don’t see any of you I’d want to coddle.”

The Oklahoman reported a small blonde female inmate replied, “But how about us girls?”

Said Cash, “I don’t know how I would, anyway, with this fence between us.”

Cash emphasized to inmates they were the reason he came to McAlester.

“I sure didn’t come for the money,” Cash said. “Prisons don’t pay too good.”

“You’re telling me?” yelled an inmate.

The set included songs like “Folsom Prison Blues,” “Long Black Veil,” “Cocaine Blues” and “I Walk the Line.” Inmates shouted requests. One asked for “House of Fire” (which the prison was during the riot) and presumably meant “Ring of Fire.”

Media outlets reported some inmates rose to their feet and applauded when the always-dressed-in-black Cash, while performing the song “Man in Black,” sang, “I wear (black) for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime, but is there because he’s a victim of the times.”

Cash spoke of his faith near the show’s conclusion. He told inmates prison bars may bind their bodies, “but the spirit can set you free.”

Said the Tulsa World’s story: When he sang “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” a few inmates sang along. Most just stared silently. And many wiped their faces where sweat had mixed with tears.

A few weeks after the concert, the Oklahoman published a more detailed recap in its Sunday magazine with new voices.

Convict Vernon Shepherd told the newspaper the show was beautiful, calling it a “sudden ray of sunshine in a dungeon.”

No punches were reported thrown during the show, but harmonicas were thrown by Cash to inmates.

“Everything went well and we think this was a good thing,” acting warden Bud Wilson told the Oklahoman. “Frankly, a lot of the guards were a little nervous. After all, this is the first public affair for the inmates in a long, long time.”

Corrections Director Russell Lash said “this type of entertainment can be terrific for morale.”

What happened next was, according to Wilson, a morale booster for prison guards.

Less than 24 hours after the show, search teams scoured OSP cells in response to rumors that inmates had stashed weapons. About 200 spoons vanished from the mess hall and it was feared the spoons would be sharpened into makeshift daggers, according to the McAlester News-Democrat.

Inmates were taken from their cells and stripped during the search, which turned up spoon handles, pieces of metal that could be crafted into weapons, extra clothing, cups/utensils from the mess hall and a big surprise: a homemade still with 18 gallons of beer was discovered on the third floor of a new cell house.

Lash and Wilson knew a search was necessary but waited to do it until after the Cash show. A wire service story said 50-70 inmates — some newcomers, some riot participants — were identified as security risks after the search and would be kept isolated in small, closely guarded groups.

The searchers could have asked a fictional detective for assistance. Cash guest-starred in a “Columbo” episode (“Swan Song“) that aired five months before the Big Mac trip. Cash played a dark character — a singer who thought he had committed the perfect crime.

Dan M. Reynolds served multiple stints at OSP — all on the “good” side of the bars. He was an assistant to the warden in the mid-1980s and later was an interim warden. He became “the” warden from 1991 through 1994.

Reynolds’ experiences suggest Cash’s Big Mac concert is more under-the-radar historically than it should be.

Reynolds said he once served on the prison rodeo committee. Members of the committee were talking about who they could get to promote the rodeo and, perhaps, perform. Reynolds mentioned they should try to get Cash.

“But when I made that statement, I had no idea he had already been there before,” Reynolds said in a recent phone interview.

Continuing, Reynolds said, “I worked at that prison three different times, and I never heard that Johnny Cash was ever there, and that’s why I was so surprised. … Johnny Cash was here, and nobody ever talks about it? There was no record of it. It was hard to find people that that were still around when Johnny Cash was there, you know?”

A warden-turned-author, Reynolds has delivered some of the perhaps forgotten history to 21st century readers. His book work includes histories of OSP and the prison rodeo. The Cash concert was included in the OSP history book.

When Reynolds learned in 2019 that music artist Thomas Gabriel, the eldest grandson of Cash, was due to perform in Oklahoma City, the former warden delivered to Gabriel a framed commemorative photo of Cash’s Big Mac concert.

“And to this day, I’m still in contact with him, and he’s just really been a good friend,” Reynolds said, indicating that Gabriel sounds like his grandfather. “I’d like to get him back in Oklahoma.”

Reynolds’ newest book is about the OSP warden’s mansion and those who lived there. Among celebrities who have stayed at (or visited) the mansion are Ray Price, Robert Mitchum, Cliff Robertson, Wilford Brimley and members of the Beach Boys.

The Beach Boys performed at Big Mac in 1969.

“My cousin Carl was drafted but he didn’t go,” the Beach Boys’ Mike Love told the Los Angeles Times in 2017. “He became a conscientious objector. But there was a while where the FBI was looking for him. And so when they made the determination this guy was not going to go to Vietnam, we did a lot of things — prisons, hospitals — as part of his service.”

Love told the newspaper he sat in OSP’s electric chair (“it wasn’t occupied at the moment”) and said he talked to bank robbers who were intelligent but maybe didn’t make the right lifestyle choices.

Some of them were probably unlucky enough — or lucky enough — to see Cash five years later.

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