My instructions were to pick Sam Bush up in my car and drive him and guitarist Stephen Mougin to the Folk Alley television studios. This sounds like a fairly straightforward request, but, professional journalism aside, Bush is one of my heroes. So a friend and I hurriedly cleaned the inside on my 1997 Sable and I headed for the motel. Almost immediately, I got caught in traffic. Luckily, I had my brand new — and first ever — cell phone, and it rang.
A voice said, "My guess is you are standing me up because I'm a Cardinals fan and not an Indians fan, right?" It was a jovial Bush, completely out of context, recalling a past conversation with me. I was nervous and late, and I still couldn't find his motel, but the phone call immediately put me at ease — just like Bush's music. When I finally arrived, they hopped in and we immediately forgot the world's troubles, focusing instead on instruments, health and sports. Bush and Mougin were just as friendly and obliging in the studios, as you'll see and hear. He's one of the best, but his fame has never gotten the best of him.