In a rare moment of star time - at least one that I don't feel silly bragging about - I had lunch with Jerry and his delightful wife. Corky Hale (a jazz harpist ... figure that out) at their house overlooking Hollywood, maybe in 1986.
It's one of the few recollections I have of the music business that gives me unqualified joy, and a sense of real privilege. It's not just about the songs, it's about the spirit of the man, which came through loud and clear while he and his wife entertained a goofy and ill-informed young English guy. Who won't ever forget it.