Citizen Shane

Here is a column I wrote about Shane about a year after he rode those grills up to where ever a guy like him goes.

Trying to set the record straight on the fat man (8/22)

Monday, August 22, 2005 1:32 PM CDT

This is a column that I probably shouldn't write. It feels harshly sentimental and very personal, but I read something earlier that kind of made me feel like it was the time to write this.

Yesterday Birney Imes mentioned in his column an e-mail he received three years ago from someone claiming to have heard the ghost of Satchmo (Opinions, Letters, and the Ghost of Satchmo). In his column, Mr. Imes wrote that he heard a man walking around through town singing Louis Armstrong songs and sounding exactly like the dead musician. Birney was delighted to learn that the man singing was no specter but a brilliant local comedian/entertainer named Ken Dorsey. He seemed pleased with himself for uncovering the mystery of this singer's identity, which is funny because if Birney had wanted to know anything about Mr. Dorsey all he would have had to do is ask me. I've been catching the guy's act for over a year now.

It seems like an eternity ago, but back when the Princess was still open we would have a karaoke show every Thursday night, and every Thursday Ken Dorsey would appear out of nowhere and do a perfect Louis Armstrong bit and leave as quickly as he appeared, the sound of thunderous applause storming in his wake (We used to call Ken the Karaoke Bandit).

All the coffee shop regulars loved this guy, but none dug his act more than my friend Shane Ballard.

Most of you folks out there have at least heard of Shane. He was the fat guy who last year ran for sheriff on a pro-pornography platform (a political bid that was captured on film by the late Ron Tibbett, who later turned that film into the documentary "Citizen Shane"), and the guy who subsequently - also last year - killed himself with a couple of charcoal grills.

Folks out there, who didn't know Shane but have heard of him, tend to fall into two kinds of categories: those who show signs of revulsion and fear and those who give him an almost holy status (a reaction that makes me much more uncomfortable than the haters). The fat man, of course, deserves neither of these assessments. Hating or fearing someone just because they are a little different from the norm (OK, OK, hugely different from the norm) is just as dumb as worshiping someone who was so disgusting that his house resembled a landfill more than a domicile (seriously, if Martha Stewart had ever walked into Shane's house, her head would have exploded).

The truth, as usual, is far more mundane.

Whenever people ask me to talk about Shane, or try to get some dirt about the guy from me my response is always the same: "Shane was just this fat slob who had an interesting aesthetic, sometimes it was brilliant, sometimes it was disturbing, but in the end he was really just this guy who became my friend. If he liked you, you were sad to see him passing; if he didn't like you, then you probably weren't too upset to see him go. He was just a guy, an ornery, imperfect guy who enjoyed making sensitive people nervous. And I loved him like a brother."

You may have noticed that within the last hundred words or so, I've called Shane fat three times. The reason for that is not only because he was fat (trust, me the man was Shamu with legs), but because our entire friendship was based upon making fun of one another. Whenever we ran into each other I would make a fat joke and he would either call me a hippie or say I looked like Ellen Degeneres. Then we'd sit around ordering drinks and talking about movies and music.

I remember one night specifically when we were hanging around the coffee shop when, for no reason in particular, Shane sat down at the piano and began playing sitcom themes. Everyone in the bar started singing along to the opening music from "Cheers," "All in the Family" and "The Family Guy." I remember thinking as we were all laughing and singing that trite silliness that Shane was playing with all the flair of a seasoned saloon piano man - that this sort of summed up this enormously fat man.

He was a man who was emphatically himself. If there was one thing I admired about the guy that was it. There was no pretension in Shane, if you didn't like him or he didn't like you, he didn't care, and he could be cruel in the way he let you know that. But if he was your friend, then you couldn't have hoped for a more loyal man to be your buddy, because all Shane wanted out of those he was close to was their presence and nothing more.

So why did he ice himself? Why did a guy like that choose to check himself in early? I don't know and I'm not going to speculate on that here other than to say that the most work he ever did in his life was hauling those grills into his room and also that the choice he made proved that he was, among other things, a damn fool.

But assuming there is an afterlife and somehow Shane conned his way into that place and they read The Commercial Dispatch there, I'd like to tell Mr. Ballard this:

Shane, you were grotesquely obese, and we all miss the hell out of you.

Wade Leonard's column appears in the Monday Dispatch. E-mail him at wadehleonard@yahoo.com.

I had the great fortune of working with Ron Tibbet and Shane Ballard on this film. Shane and I had formed a literally lifelong bond before the movie as the not-so-Dynamic Duo known as The Toots & Tina Show. Staying true to his no holds barred mentality, Shane was one hell of a musician who had the rare gift of taking blue, perverted songs and turning them into a work of art. "Citizen Shane" was Shane Ballard. He lived his life to the fullest and didn't give a goddamn what people thought about him. Ron was a pioneer of the film festival for Mississippi, spawning similar events around the state. You couldn't help but like him and respect the drive he had towards making a film. Both of these gentlemen were class acts and will be sorely missed.

I played the friend who helped Shane talk to some of the locals about their take on his bid. I currently live in Los Angeles pursuing a career in comedy. Why? Inspiration from my "boys" Ron & Shane. "Citizen Shane" is what it is: a glimpse into the life of a man often misunderstood by those who never took the time to get to know him. That's too bad, because he was a treasure of a human being who was kind to a fault. He lived hard, played hard, and eventually died hard.

If you ever wondered whether truly good, yet brutally honest people existed in the world, check out Citizen Shane. If it doesn't move you in some way, you may want to get your soul checked out.

Literally orphaned by police conspiracy, Shane Ballard is not your usual serial murderer and stripper obsessed self-marginalized southern small town eccentric. Whether he's pursuing the impossible dream of becoming Loundes County sheriff to find his mother's murderer or having a cozy heart to heart phone chat with Charles Manson, CITIZEN SHANE portrays the charismatic Shane without a whiff of exploitation or condescension and with a lot of humor and affection. If you're an American despairing the willing cultural, political and social homoginization that's transformed this once great country into a conformist and ironist limbo, this film will reafirm your faith in being smart, curious and weird. Find a copy of this documentary and check it out.

This is a portrait of someone who would be classified in this society as a Freak. Shane Ballard loves violence, pornography, Hitler, serial killers (enough?). He likes to provoke. He wants to "shake things" and "wake people up". This film don't stay only in the surface: The scenes where Ballard talks about his childhood (he never saw his father and his mother, who was also never there, died "mysteriously" when he was 8) give some perspective and something to think.

The telephone conversation with Charles Manson, where he (Manson) sings his song and talks with Ballard and the pictures of Manson come towards the viewer, that might be the strongest scene in the film, at least for anybody who knows something about Manson. (It's quite long, maybe 10 minutes.) It's very interesting and simple example of (documentary) film making where the character makes almost the whole scene and atmosphere, and the director and editor just follow and back him up. It's very scary when you notice, after a nice and "normal" beginning, how in some point of the "discussion" Manson starts to manipulate the listener (=Ballard). And you can also hear how he succeeds. I don't know is there this kind of material about Manson elsewhere, I'm not so familiar with this area, but I would assume this film/scene is very interesting to Manson "fans". And to others also.

It's hard to say is this documentary "important" in any way: Does it say anything about this society for example? I don't know, but it's what it is: A portrait of one person. It's not very positive or happy film. It's also sad when you think that this guy killed himself after this. And of course it's sad (and little bit scary) to know that there is very much of this kind of people (who for example adore serial killers) existing all the time. (If I'm honest, I would assume that these people almost never really DO any of these sick things they watch films or read about: The people who DO NOT read and watch these films, but still has the same kind of violent urges and frustrations inside them, are the people who commit crimes in reality.) There are also some scenes that you might consider funny (the night of the election votes counting.) But should everything be so totally light and easy anyway? It's (almost) the only documentary I've seen that portrays this type of person. Nick Broomfield's "Kurt and Courtney" might be atmospherically closest (I've seen) to this. It takes place among similar kind of people and culture.

You can download this movie from Subcin.com/shane.html: Shane Ballard himself gave the movie there to download for free, just days before his death.

I'll start off by writing that the director and protagonist have died withing months of this film's release. The director spun out on Old Waverly Road near West Point, to hear tell. The hero of the film committed suicide shortly after. That said, the premiere of this film was quite the eye opener. Citizen Shane Ballard, fresh from his unsuccessful run for sheriff of Lowndes County, proud of having garnered 666, yes, 666 votes in the Republican primary, worked the crowd at the film festival. He was an imposing young man indeed. The director and promoter of the film festival, Ron Tibbett, was gracious and radiated warmth. It was a good night in Starkville, Mississippi. But on to the film...

This documentary is pretty gonzo, with a half serious filming of a half serious campaign that contains half serious ads. The ads, which solemnly declare candidate Ballard's pro-pornography platform, were too much for the people of Mississippi to swallow. We follow him and the director/campaign manager as they canvass voters, chill at the house, party, and veer to the site where the candidate's mother was murdered fourteen years before-an unsolved crime that we hope will be solved once Shane becomes sheriff. We listen as Shane gets a pep talk from prisoner Charles Manson over the phone. (The closing music of the film is by the latter).

I kept having a hard time believing that everything in the film was true, but it was. Within all the craziness of this film, though, are some painful moments, quiet ones that a viewer caught up in the viewing could miss. It's easy to simply roll through the film, watching stunt on top of stunt, but it's the moments between the outrage that I found moving.

The death of these two men makes it difficult for me to watch it again.