LAST EDITED ON Aug-07-13 AT 12:03PM (MST)[p]This is my LAST SHOT column for AZ Hunter & Angler, written back in the late 1980s.
THE LAST SHOT
[h2]THE MOTOR CITY MADMAN[/h2]
Copyright by Tony Mandile
The stage was set -- literally.
A few friends and I had just sat through more than hour of throbbing rock music put forth by the English group known as Bad Company. For an old dude like me with a taste for Barbra Streisand or Whitney Houston, sitting there on the grass of the Desert Sky Pavilion in Phoenix and listening to hard rock amounted to an anomaly. In this case, my real motive for bearing it had little to do with the music.
The stage curtains had been closed for 15 minutes or so after Bad Company's performance. Now the only sound was the combined buzz from several thousand spectators melting into one indistinguishable voice. I could handle the noise from the murmuring crowd quite easily because it didn't vibrate my insides and produce a decibel level to push the needle off the scale. The welcome change from Bad Company suddenly ended, though
The huge speakers came alive again with the raucous beat of drums and high-pitch twangs of electric guitars. As the curtains parted, a stage filled with smoke appeared amid banks of multi- colored, rapidly blinking spotlights. The rising, ever shifting smoke, tinted by colorful lighting, provided a constantly changing surrealistic scene. Then from the stage's dark recesses sprang the man known as the Motor City Madman.
The Madman's long hair, reaching well below his wide shoulders, bounced around to the beat of his body contortions. The din from the amplified drums and guitars grew louder and louder now, though not quite loud enough to drown out the welcoming cheers from the crowd when it recognized the words of Cat Scratch Fever, the Madman's trademark song. Minutes later, Ted Nugent stepped to the microphone, and in a rapidly paced, jivey way, told everyone how glad he was to be with his bloodbrothers.
I sat mesmerized, knowing I had just witnessed a metamorphosis of sorts -- a Clark Kent trip into a phone booth, so to speak.
Two hours earlier, I had spent a 1/2-hr. talking one-on-one to the 46-yr.-old Nugent in the quiet of his dressing room. He wore jeans, a sleeveless camo shirt and a camo baseball hat. His long, flowing hair, confined into a ponytail by a rubber band, remained relatively still as we discussed hunting, the animal-rights crowd and the battle to save our 2nd Amendment rights. In fact, the chat with Nugent seemed no different than one I would have with my next-door neighbor. But now, as I watched the transformation from hunter, father and outspoken critic of those who endanger America's hunting and shooting traditions, I got the feeling I was seeing someone else. I visited Nugent after the show and mentioned my astonishment at the ease he switched personalities.
Nugent laughed. "It's like a welder who comes home, takes a shower and puts on a suit and tie. He's no longer a welder once he punches out from his job and dressed in a different costume. When I'm on stage, I'm a rock star -- the Motor City Madman, if you will."
Although Nugent can adopt the persona of two different people, his view of life is always the same. Most importantly, he eschews the misuse of drugs and booze. It's a potent message coming from a rocker who has been in the business for 30 years. He also has a devout love for the outdoors and a well-honed understanding of wildlife and the environment. Most importantly, Nugent defends hunting and firearms with a zeal few can match. He isn't afraid to make his views known, regardless of his audience and whether it agrees with him or not.
I asked Nugent if he didn't often let this enthusiasm go too far, especially when it comes to some of his most outrageous comments or his dialogue that's often laced with four-letter words.
"There's a reason for it. When I'm outrageous and crass, it creates controversy, and that controversy focuses attention on me. In the last two days, I've been interviewed on six radio and two TV stations in LA and here. You don't see the NRA or hunting organizations getting that kind of airtime. Yet in every case, I was able to get the word out. No matter what words I use, though, no one can ever accuse me of speaking an untruth and not saying something from the heart, stuff I truly believe in. The important thing is people hear what I have to say. And as Ted Nugent, the rocker, I reach an audience that no one else can -- the youth of this country. To do that, I need to speak their language.
"When I defend hunting, I do it because I know it's a wholesome activity. When I speak against the animal-rights whackos, I do it because their beliefs are garbage and have no factual basis in reality. They are the extreme fringe. No free-thinking, intelligent person should accept what they say without researching the facts for themselves.
Nugent gets his word out in other ways, too. Several years ago he formed Ted Nugent's World Bowhunters (soon to be Ted Nugent's American Bloodbrothers). Along with his lovely wife, Shemane, he publishes Ted Nugent Adventure Outdoors, a full-color, straight-hitting magazine. But one of the efforts Nugent is more proud of than anything is his Kamp For Kids program.
Held twice each summer, the "Kamp" is aimed at getting kids off the streets and into the woods. As Nugent puts it, "We want to get them where they belong. The main emphasis is to teach kids about the environment and bowhunting. In doing this, we hope to protect the future of both bowhunting and the youth of America. "
Nugent's admiration for the legendary bowhunter Fred Bear is hard not to notice. After Bear's death, Nugent wrote the song, "Fred Bear." He now refers to it as the American Hunter's Theme Song. Though it rocks and rolls like most of the Motor City Madman's music, the message it conveys is pure and unadulterated; Nugent thought much of the man and what he stood for. And when Nugent changes from the camo of a bowhunter to the gaudy trappings of the rock start and sings "Fred Bear" on-stage, the audience still gets that message loud and clear. And the Madman's Spirit of the Wild is alive.
Of course, some of us older folks just wish it wasn't quite so loud.
TONY MANDILE
How To Hunt Coues Deer
