Harken back to a cold Tuesday afternoon in December 1956, when rock and roll was still just finding its way—and when Southern preachers decried the new genre as sinful and straight from the Devil himself.
Four men got together that day at Sun Records in Memphis, Tennessee, the small label that had launched each of their careers—Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, and Carl Perkins. With Sun Records owner Sam Phillips in attendance, the four legends reminisced and held an impromptu jam session. When word got out about the gathering, they became known as the Million Dollar Quartet. The foursome never reunited again.
Today, Million Dollar Quartet is a rollicking musical playing in New York, Chicago, and touring the U.S. The production tells the story of that gathering, and is not only a fantastic slice of rock history, but makes for a great evening of terrific live music—including songs made famous by each of the four men, such as “Blue Suede Shoes,” “I Walk the Line,” “Great Balls of Fire,” “Hound Dog,” “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On,” and many more.
We caught one of the Chicago shows recently, and then sat down to talk with Shaun Whitley, 31, who plays the role of Carl Perkins. An affable young man who ditched his native Alabama accent when his family moved to Chicago, Whitley—who has also been in shows with Chicago’s Provision Theater, a Christ-centered production company—talked about Million Dollar Quartet, his character, his upbringing, and his faith. Our conversation ended on an unexpected note. Read on to see why.
Are you guys having as much fun on stage as we did in the audience?
Definitely. Every performance is different. That’s one of the coolest things about it. You can say the same words and sing the same songs, but because of the different energy with different audiences, it changes. It’s always interesting and new. It never gets boring.
How did you get this role?
My agent got me the audition, and I was so excited, because I’d heard about this show, hoping I’d get a chance to be in it. I had originally auditioned for the Jerry Lee Lewis part in 2008 when it first opened at the Goodman, but didn’t get it. But a couple of years later [after the show had moved to the Apollo] the Carl Perkins understudy role came up, and I just poured my heart into it and got the role. And when the lead role opened up in January, I got the part.
What have you learned about Perkins as you’ve played this role?
One of the main descriptions comes out of the mouth of Johnny Cash, who said that Perkins was the consummate Southern gentlemen. Despite all of his disappointments—especially his lack of notoriety, but the respect amongst his peers was bar none—he never really lost sight of being a good person. He did have his trials with alcohol addiction, so he had his demons there. And once he left Sun Records, his career never really came back, so there’s a lot of sadness in his life. So I have to wonder, How I would feel if I had really put my heart and soul into everything to kick off this new genre of music and everybody else got the glory except for me? How would that make me feel? So, I like the Carl Perkins character a lot, but I also feel for him.
What else have you learned about these guys?
They all had a very strong spirituality and connection to their faith, though it was like there was a separation between their music and their faith. I think they always struggled with that dichotomy of doing stuff that people were saying was ungodly and from the Devil, but they were still enjoying gospel music and still believing.
Some of them grew up not only hearing the “white gospel,” but also hearing blacks singing it out in the cotton fields.
They all did. They all went to church. Johnny Cash wanted to record gospel songs [with Sun Records], but got steered into a different direction. I have a book called The Gospel Side of Elvis by Joe Moscheo that talks about how gospel music was really what Elvis loved more than anything.
Have you been interested in theater and music since you were a kid?
As a kid, music only. I didn’t really know what theater was in Alabama, to tell you the truth! It wasn’t until I moved to Chicago when I was almost 10 that I finally got a dose oftheater. But I sang my first solo in a Southern Baptist church at the age of 2, a Cynthia Clawson song called “The Best Is Yet to Come”—with my mom holding the mike. As soon as the music started and I saw everybody out there in the congregation I snatched the microphone from my mother and then sang it without her help. That’s kind of where it started.
What instrument did you first pick up as a kid?
Piano and violin. When I was about 4, I went to the Grand Ole Opry and saw a bluegrass group—I don’t remember who it was—and I flipped out. I immediately ran up to the stage and talked to the fiddle player and said, “I’m going to learn to play the fiddle.” So my parents got me into violin and piano lessons.
Were you ever in a band?
I was in a Christian rock band in high school, when we lived in Atlanta. I sang and played bass. Our band name was Wonderful Disaster—named after the most wonderful disaster of all time, when Jesus was crucified. It was a disaster at the time, but it became something beautiful. We really spearheaded a lot of bands to come out of the church that we went to at that time—Fellowship Bible Church in Roswell, Georgia—including the bass player from Third Day [Tai Anderson].
In your bio in the playbill for Million Dollar Quartet, you thank your “two families.” Yours and your wife’s, I presume?
Yes. I was 12 years old when I met Meg. I was in seventh grade and she was in eighth, and we did a play together—A Christmas Carol—and we actually played husband and wife. I fell madly in love with her almost immediately, and she not so with me, me being a gawky seventh grader with braces. But I wore her down. So I’ve known her family the majority of my life. In fact, her dad was instrumental in helping me learn how to play the guitar. He taught me some Beatles’ songs and some Cat Stevens’ songs, which I still know to this day.
What was your upbringing like?
Southern Baptist, pretty conservative. Rock music was frowned upon, though the oldies radio station was fine. I had a strict diet of bluegrass and Sandi Patty and Larnelle Harris.
Yikes.
I didn’t hear any good Christian rock till high school. And then I got into Vigilantes of Love. Listening to them, and Bill Mallonee, gave me a new view of what Christianity could be, about what being a Christian is. I’ve always struggled with this thought of, I’m not good enough. Mallonee sings about things that I was thinking about, things maybe the church didn’t necessarily condone; some of his albums were even banned from the Christian bookstore where I lived in Georgia.
Here’s a guy who has the guts to sing about his struggles with sin.
Yeah. I respect him tremendously. So if I ever get a chance to meet and talk with him that would be a really cool day. That would be a really cool day.
When did your own spiritual journey begin?
It was during a revival in May 1987; I was six years old. That’s when I made my public profession of faith. I was baptized a week later, on Mother’s Day.
Did you actually go down front for an altar call?
I sure did. I had been talking about getting saved earlier than that, talking with my parents about it. They never pressured me into it. But they gave me a good foundation.
How would you describe your journey today?
I am in a weird kind of no man’s land right now. I’ve gone back and forth. I’m certainly a questioner, someone who craves concrete answers right. So I’ve gone the route of investigating nature and the universe and all the things that that entails, and trying to justify it with my faith. I don’t know. It’s been hard, and a little scary at times. I’m 31 years old, trying to figure all this out.
I want very much to go back to the feelings that I had when I was in high school, when I felt like I knew—when I had the answer, before I knew about other stuff. I’m always trying to get back to a point where I can go, Yes, for sure I believe this. But I feel like every time I say that, something happens that makes me go, But what about this? And that? I don’t know. It seems rather vague, I’m sure.
I hear you. One of my favorite passages is in Psalm 51 where David asks God, “Restore to me the joy of my salvation.” I’m not wrestling with doubts like you might be, but the feelings of faith come and go.
That is a great passage, and I guess without me even knowing it, that has been my prayer. When I was a little kid, I was thankful to have been born into the family I was born into, and the faith I was born into. I felt so happy and so lucky to know the truth, that I had a life after this. But in recent years, I’ve experienced some sadness that makes me go, Man, I really hope there’s something after this. Life is pretty precious. And every time I wake up, I’m so thankful I get to experience all this. But I don’t want it to end here. That’s one of the biggest problems I have, is that I feel like when I die, my brain shuts off and that will be that. And I don’t like feeling that way. I hate it. I try to hold onto that childlike faith that I had, and I don’t know. I guess I just have to live with whatever happens.
At this point, I conclude the “official” interview, shut off the tape recorder, and continue my conversation with Whitley off the record.
CT readers can save up to 35 percent on tickets at Chicago’s Apollo Theater by clicking here and then typing “FAITH” into the field marked “Promotions and Special Offers.”
Million Dollar Quartet photos by Doug Blemker.
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