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Rolf Olsen of Searsport worked at the Maine Center for the Arts (now Collins Center for the Arts) from its opening in September 1986 through September 1992, serving first as director of marketing and for almost a year as interim co-director.
I recently read about the passing of James Gorman, L.L. Bean’s grandson. Reading through his obituary, it’s clear that he leaves a legacy of quiet kindness and generosity. He also touched my life, albeit very briefly, when I worked at the Maine Center for the Arts, now the Collins Center.
Were any readers today in the audience when Johnny Cash, his wife June Carter Cash and their band performed in Orono back in 1992? This unforgettable event was only possible because Jim and his wife Maureen provided sponsorship funding for what was then among the largest artist fees we’d ever paid.
Over the years, I’ve regaled friends and colleagues about the time my wife Lorelei and I had dinner with Johnny and June Carter Cash, courtesy of Jim and Maureen Gorman, who were also at the table. I even have a picture of us with Johnny, who has a box with L. L. Bean’s iconic boots under his arm. There’s a story behind this, of course.
Several months prior to the concert, I had the opportunity to meet the Gormans, among other prospective donors, at a reception at the center. Standing in a small cluster of guests, I overheard Maureen mention that they’d seen Johnny Cash at a venue near their Florida home, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could bring the band to Orono. The next day, I began to explore what it might cost to bring them to Maine.
As you would expect, a world-class performer like Johnny Cash was represented at the time by a major entertainment agency in Los Angeles. As I anticipated, the quoted fee was enormous for our 1,600-seat concert hall. To afford this concert, we’d need a very significant sponsorship check. So, I wrote a letter to the Gormans, offering a date and asking if this might be something they could consider. I invited them to call me, even at home in the evening, if they had any questions.
Imagine my surprise when Maureen and Jim called me at home the day the letter arrived. They were thrilled at the idea, and very willing to sponsor the concert personally, but they had a few conditions. They wanted to host Johnny, June and their band for a dinner, along with a few dozen of the Gormans’ friends. And they wanted to give each band member a pair of Bean boots. This meant I’d need to obtain the shoe sizes for Johnny and June, and all band members.
Johnny’s agent listened patiently, but I could sense his full-body eye roll when I asked about the dinner and shoe sizes. Who asks a band for shoe sizes? Sure, he’d heard of L.L. Bean, and thought he knew about the boots. They really are iconic, I assured him.
You can probably imagine that expecting world renowned performers to commit to having dinner with total strangers, months in advance, might be a stretch — there are plenty of very wealthy people who will pay to brush with celebrity. Getting the musicians’ shoe sizes tested my persuasive skills even further. In the end, I received the sizes, but no written commitment to attend the dinner, only a verbal promise to see how the artists were feeling after the performance before deciding. I let the Gormans know, and they OK’d me to sign the contract.
Tickets for the concert sold out very quickly, even at a pretty steep (for the times) ticket price. I worked with the Gormans and a caterer to plan the post-performance dinner, and we all held our breath and crossed our fingers.
On performance day, the crew set up an elaborate sound system on the stage. The bus with the performers arrived at the stage door just before showtime. Being starstruck myself, my heart was pounding non-stop as I welcomed them. The show brought down the house and received multiple standing ovations.
Sure enough, Johnny, June and the band refreshed themselves and then came up to the Gormans’ dinner in their honor. My wife and I had the privilege of sitting with the Cashes and the Gormans over dinner.
Despite their fame and stature, everyone was gracious, and the conversation flowed more easily than I ever imagined. The Gormans and the Cashes seemed to be instant friends, chatting about common outdoor interests, like fly fishing in Alaska. Johnny complimented my wife’s necklace and explained that he had crafted all the silver medallions on his black leather jacket. June gave me an inscribed copy of her “Mother Maybelle Carter’s Cookbook.”
Truly an evening to remember for me and many others, and one example of the legacy of kindness and generosity of Jim and Maureen Gorman.
