People think they know what happened to Bobbie Gentry

If I haven’t responded to your email following the “What happened to singer Bobbie Gentry?” column on June 1, consider this a personal apology and a “thank you” for each one.

I have answered as many as time has allowed, and I will eventually get to them all.   But color me astounded by the number of readers who, like me, are haunted by the Mississippi singer/songwriter’s mysterious 1967 hit — “Ode to Billie Joe” — and her decision to become a recluse since the late 1970s.

The emails have come from all over — Australia and Bangladesh, as well from her childhood stomping grounds of Chickasaw County and Leflore County. Each contains its own charm.

One of my favorites is from a gentleman named Brett, who didn’t include his hometown but got right to the point: “I was born in 1966. She was my first dream girl. Please find her.”

Howard of Henderson Harbor, New York, and a 1967 graduate of the Bronx High School of Science, pointed out that while the song came out 49 years ago, this is the 50th anniversary of Billie Joe’s leap off the Tallahatchie Bridge.

He referred to the line “a year has come and gone since we heard the news about Billie Joe.”

That is some quality ciphering.

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A former Chickasaw County pastor,  who stopped by Bobbie Gentry’s grandparents’ home one Sunday afternoon in 1963, was introduced to the 18-year-old singer.

He wrote: “Two things struck me about her appearance at once. First, she wore dark eye makeup, which I'd never seen on a woman, and, second, she was wearing the tightest jeans I had ever seen.”

Preachers are human, too.

Two emails came from folks born on the the third of June, which is mentioned in the song’s first line.

A Greenwood resident named Ken wrote that “I, too, wish she were more public” and that he didn’t realize until recently that Gentry was “an international sensation.”

The other, Daniel of Savannah, Georgia, wrote: “I guess it was early to mid-1980s when I met Bobbie. My wife and I were attending a formal ball in Savannah when I heard she was present. When I spotted Ms. Gentry, I walked over and introduced myself. I blurted out that Billie Joe McAllister had jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge on my birthday. She paused a moment then began singing. ‘It was the 3rd of June another … hey you’re right!’ She was very gracious and friendly.”

An update: I am 99.9 percent sure I know where Bobbie Gentry lives. And, yes, it is the same place an article in The Washington Post loosely referred to in a June 2 article — “about a two-hour drive from the Tallahatchie Bridge.”

I’ll leave it at that right now.

A few who emailed me offered their insight as to where she is or where she was a few years ago.

From Patricia: “Last we heard she was living in the San Fernando Valley — Los Angeles.”

Terri in Savannah said Gentry lives there, or did through 2015. “She’s quite often at Publix or Kroger near her home. No one bothers her. She appears to be in good health.”

Randy (no address given) wrote: “16 years ago I was regional manager for a group of cable TV systems in Georgia, South Carolina and Florida. We were rebuilding the lines at a very private gated community in Coastal Georgia. A lady came out of one home to see how the repairs were going. The lady was Bobby (sic) Gentry.”

Steve, who lives somewhere near Nashville, has reason to believe Gentry is in the Music City area. “I delivered pizza to reclusive address. Saw photos, magazines with her in it. I am 49 and grew up around the music. Was years ago but she still lives there.  She would not meet. Left money under can."

Left money under a can? I hope not.

Judith, from somewhere in the state of Washington, said she was married to Gentry’s uncle for 40-plus years.

“(Gentry and I) became good friends and she flew us, along with her mother, to Las Vegas many times to spend the weekend and see her shows.  We were present at the reception of her marriage to Bill Harrah.

“Shortly after her mother's death, Bobbie was in Carson City, Nevada, visiting her stepfather. He called us (we also were living there) and said Bobbie was on her way to the Reno airport but would be stopping at our place shortly. She never showed up and we never heard from her nor were able to contact her again. I have made numerous attempts over the years to contact her to no avail. I love her dearly and can't even begin to imagine why we are estranged.”

An upstate New York disc jockey, who goes by the name Thunder, wrote: “In the summer of '67, I, too, fell in love with Bobbie Gentry … In the  late ’70s, when I went to college, I did a radio special on Bobbie and sent it to her and did hear back. I ended up getting three thank you cards over the years when I remembered her birthday with a card.”

And, finally, I enjoyed an email from Barbara, a DJ with no place of residence given. But it’s obvious she was touched by the 360-word song that reads like a literary short story. It has no middle eight or bridge — musically, speaking. Five verses. Straight ahead.

Wrote Barbara: “I knew instantly that this was songwriting at its best, that even though it bears no similarity to the lives of many people, so many can still instantly understand it and picture it. So evocative, is it.

“I didn’t know that she was so reclusive and wonder why. I hope she has some idea of the effect this song has had on millions of people.”

Contact Billy Watkins at 769-257-3079 orbwatkins@jackson.gannett.com. Follow @BillyWatkins11 on Twitter.