Roy Kelton Orbison was a pillar of the am radio during my youth.
He was always on and we were always listening.
Even while I was at Camp Sewee in Awendaw he was there on WTMA crooning through the loudspeakers.
In a world of teenybopper, bubblegum, and manly man musical presence he was there offering a sensitivity and complexity unavailable elsewhere.
His passionate belting out of lyrics coupled with his expanse of vocal range was an attraction to me and just about everyone I knew during the 1960s.
Coiffed in dyed jet black pompadour and always dressed in black with dark glasses he commanded a stillness of stage presence which projected mystery with all the art.
He died of a heart attack the age of 52 leaving us with a catalog of emotion, melody, and lyricism which has remained a formidable collection in my lifetime.