During a recent conversation with my wife, the subject came up of rumors and how they begin.
It started because I mentioned how a man came into the Herald office that day and said, “they’re calling for snow in St. Louis on Sunday.” I found his declaration to be interesting, so I looked up the forecast for The Lou that day and found it was actually similar to Houston’s, calling for highs around 52 and a potential for rain in the evening.
I told my wife I figured that ball probably got rolling when a TV meteorologist said something like, “on this date back in 19-something, five inches of snow fell in St. Louis.” Then someone who heard it communicated their version to someone else, and a few people later, “it’s gonna snow.”
I also mentioned how the scenario reminded me of that time in late 2014 when I was “dead.” No, I didn’t get “brought back” by an emergency responder or a doctor or anything like that – I was fine. But apparently, word circulated in parts of Texas County that I wasn’t.
Yep, to a handful of people I was considered a memory for at least a while; I know because I was approached by someone who had heard from someone else that “Doug is dead.”
After doing a bit of investigation, I determined the rumor had likely started due to the death of another local man whose name was somewhat similar to mine. While I was sorry he had passed, I was at the same time glad to still be around.
I recall how while it was still fresh, the situation presented a few impactful moments that had me dealing with a set of thoughts and feelings I hadn’t experienced before. Like when a friend shook my hand and said in all sincerity, “boy, am I glad to see you,” and described how a few days earlier he wasn’t sure I was alive.
That kind of makes you stop and think, you know?
Of course, I have that not-really-dead thing in common with famous Missourian Samuel Clemens (a.k.a. Mark Twain) who once wrote in reaction to a fellow journalist’s inquiry over a widely circulated rumor, “the report of my death is an exaggeration.”
I’m pretty sure my premature demise was bandied about by only a scant few folks, but there are plenty of examples of alleged early exits of famous people like Mr. Twain, whose rumored deaths garnered a bunch of attention.
Probably one of the best is that of Paul McCartney. When he was still a singer, songwriter and bass player for the Beatles, a widely circulated rumor claimed that when the classic song “Strawberry Fields Forever” (from the September 1969 release “Abbey Road”) was played backward, fellow Beatle John Lennon’s voice could be heard saying, “I buried Paul.”
Conspiracy theorists claimed the deceased McCartney was replaced by a look-alike and the band continued its incredible run without missing a step. Maybe, but my money’s on probably not.
Lennon later said the backward phrase was actually “cranberry sauce,” and McCartney is still going strong many decades later. Or is that his doppelganger? I have no solid evidence, but I’m guessing the Paul who went on to “McCartney and Wings” fame and is still active in music today is the same Paul who wrote and sang “Yesterday” and “Penny Lane.”
By the way, whose idea was it to play that song backward, and what was their motivation? I never understood all that, and I feel like the eccentric and quirky Mr. Lennon was just enjoying playing along.
Anyway, rumors will always persist, because people in general aren’t capable of vocally relaying information in its exact form. I’m reminded of that exercise many of us have participated in where several people sit in a circle and one person whispers a sentence or two into the ear of someone next to them, then they relay it to the next person, and so on. By the time the last person says out loud what they heard, it’s nothing remotely similar to the original.
And for the record, I’m pretty sure if you played back a recording in reverse from the handheld device I use for interviewing people for newspaper articles, you’re more likely to hear something like “Scotty is cool” than “I buried Doug.”