Jimmy Dean Returns Home

By NICKI B. LOGAN/Staff Writer

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(Originally published in the October 19, 1987 edition of The Plainview, TX Daily Herald)

Jimmy Dean was welcomed home Sunday with open arms and none of the awe one would expect with a celebrity of his stature.

I am the first to admit that although I had always enjoyed his television programs and felt a surge of pride when I heard him mention on his sausage ads that he was from Plainview, TX, I primarily attended the barbecue Sunday from a sense of duty and to support the sheltered workshop.

As a student at Plainview High School in the early 1960's, I sat in a darkened auditorium and listened to Jimmy Dean encourage us to stay in school and get a good education. He talked about his childhood and told us he was an example of what not. His mother, the late Ruth Dean, was in the audience and he lovingly introduced her, his pride in her evident.

We gave him a standing ovation. A spontaneous one, not one the teachers instigated. One from our hearts.

On the drive into town, I told my daughter she might want to take a notepad I keep in the car with her and ask Dean for his autograph. Surprised at her lack of enthusiasm, I explained he was a country singer from Plainview.

"I don't guess he has anything to do with sausage and biscuits, does he?" she asked, never looking up from the book she was reading. "Yes, he founded the company. You've seen him on TV."

That's all it took. She grabbed the paper and said, "He makes the best sausage and biscuits. Do you think we'll have them today?"

(Obviously, food is more important to her than music or humor.)

All this is a long prelude to explain how I changed Sunday from a lukewarm JD fan to a dyed-in-the-wool-forever-fan.

Women's Division of the Chamber of Commerce members were in line by the door serving a greeter when Jimmy Dean walked in the room. Old friends immediately surrounded him, wanting to visit with, share in a moment of glory.

That's when he won my heart forever. Although he smiled at everyone, he bent over to one of the sheltered workshop students who was trying to say something to him. After listening carefully to her, he took her face in his big hands and kissed her.

That scene was repeated throughout the time he was here. Regardless of the people pulling at him, he never lost his temper - and I couldn't help but wonder how we would react to the constant tugging and pulling at our clothes and bodies.

Sure, they say that's the price of fame, but other celebrities avoid situations like that and employ bodyguards to keep the public away.

Not Jimmy Dean, he waded right in. Countless times he was asked, "Do you remember me?" and if he didn't, he didn't show it.

As a comparison, how many times do we forget a name of someone we work with daily when introducing them? Multiply that with intervening years and the changes time has wrought on all our faces and voices and you'll have a glimpse of what faced Dean in the barn crowded with people he hasn't seen for years.

Earlier, at a reception, he was greeted by a host of people he knew as a youngster and with whom he grew up. He was almost moved to tears.

At the barbecue, attended by about 1,000 persons, he received plaques from the city and from the Central Plains MH-MR Center. He also recited a poem about his "full cup", in affection for the people of this area.

Yes, my daughter got her autograph. I didn't hear what she said to Jimmy, but his big laugh rang out and he bent over and kissed her on the forehead. Later, he saw her with Bill Weaks (who was taking photographs) and paused to put his arms around her for a photograph.

There they stood, Jimmy Dean, gray Stetson and gray western suit tailored to perfection, smiling for the camera, with his arms around a solemn-faced 10-year-old girl wearing a blue warm-up suit.

He made her day. She plans to frame the photo and his autograph with a sausage and biscuit box - her favorite breakfast.

That's how I will always remember Jimmy Dean. A man of the people. A man who cares enough about his hometown and the people in it to return for two hours (at his own expense) to help raise money for a sheltered workshop. Not too glamorous an occasion, but one filled with love and hope for the future of the workshop.

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