HE DIED ON A MONDAY MORNING AT HOME IN NASHVILLE. THERE WAS NO PUBLIC SERVICE. THEY BURIED HIM AT WOODLAWN — A FEW ROWS FROM TAMMY WYNETTE. Three Grammys. A guitar style nobody could copy. Songs that Elvis demanded, and a grin that made people forget how serious the talent really was. Sony BMG Nashville Chairman Joe Galante said it plainly when the news broke: “Everything about Jerry was distinctive — his guitar playing, his writing, his voice, and especially his sense of humor.” Nashville mourned. Then moved on. Nine years passed before the Country Music Hall of Fame opened its doors. Nine years. Bobby Bare delivered the induction. Ray Stevens — who had known Jerry since they were both broke kids in Atlanta in the ’50s — stood up and sang When You’re Hot, You’re Hot. The room laughed, then got quiet, the way rooms do when laughter costs something. His daughter Seidina stood at the podium and said: “He never forgot where he came from. He loved life and he loved people and he loved making music.” She said what they got is what they saw. Every single time. Nashville just took nine years to write it down.
Jerry Reed’s Quiet Goodbye in Nashville He died on a Monday morning at home in Nashville, and for a brief…