“God Bless You, Phil Collins”

Those were the words spoken recently by Texas Land Commissioner Jerry Patterson as he accepted the rock star’s donation of artifacts having to do with the Alamo. Although the Reuters press report didn’t give a value to the donation, Texas is going to build a $100 million edifice to hold the collection, which will be known as the Phil Collins Alamo Collection. There is also a move afoot to name him an honorary Texan.

So it’s got to be big. Well, I guess everything is big in Texas. And yes, I said donation. So chalk one up for Mr. Collins: he could have sold the collection instead of giving it away.

The collection includes the fringed leather pouch that Davy Crockett carried to the Alamo from Tennessee, containing two musket balls and two tortillas. The item was originally recovered by a Mexican general after the 1836 battle in which Crockett and almost 200 other defenders of the Alamo lost their lives fighting for independence from Mexico. Also included is a rifle owned by Crockett, and a Bowie knife once owned by Jim Bowie, who also died at the Alamo. So the collection must be pretty valuable, assuming those tortillas aren’t mouldy.

I do have a small reservation about the new building. Phil Collins is a household name all right—at least if you like fairly bland but progressive pop music from the 1970s and 1980s. The band he played in, Genesis, sold 130 million records and were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2010. Collins sold 150 million records in his own right. But his cultural staying power pales in comparison to that of the Alamo. The Alamo is a piece of bedrock American history—I visited the Alamo and remember being set upon by guards for failing to show sufficient respect by removing my hat. So linking the two names permanently cheapens the Alamo just a ltitle bit, don’t you think? Count one point against the state of Texas.

I’d better address the question that leapt to my mind as it probably has to yours. Phil Collins is British, right: so what was the genesis, so to speak, of his interest in collecitng Alamo artifacts? As Collins explains it, he became fascinated by the Alamo while watching Davy Crockett on televison when he was a child. That’s a refreshingly commonplace explanation. It rings a little truer than something like “I used to read the words of the Dalai Lama after each night’s concert, and I suddenly became aware of my need to be one with the universe, so I started collecting Alamo artifacts.”

Let’s hope his honesty in stating the inspiration for the collection motivates others to do likewise. Perhaps there is a collector of Norman Rockwell paintings out there who is prepared to step forward and admit that he was motivated to begin collecting by watching The Simpsons. Maybe someone is prepared to admit that her collection of mid-century modern automatic doors was prompted by watching Get Smart. Or perhaps someone else will acknowledge that his or her priceless collection of stone age automobiles was kickstarted by watching The Flintstones. So let’s chalk up another point for Mr. Collins.

But how can he afford to collect priceless Texas history when there are mansions to maintain, drug habits to sustain, hotel rooms to trash and so forth? Collins has the answer. “I decided to spend my money on original items from the Alamo, rather than on Ferraris,” Collins said. I don’t know enough about rockstars or Ferraris to know who Collins is subtly referring to there, but according to a website listing celebrities with the biggest car collections, the top ranked rock star is Pink Floyd drummer Nick Mason, who owns, among other things, an Alfa Romeo, a Bugatti, a Jaguar, a Maserati, a McLaren, a Porsche, two Ferraris and a Ford Model T “originally owned by Coco the Clown.” Isn’t the internet fun?

And speaking of lifestyles of excess, Collins’ gift has arrived in a timely way to serve as atonement for the behaviour of his compatriot Ozzy Osborne, who, in addition to his own unique contribution to the rock star lifestyle involving munching on bats, was banned from San Antonio for ten years for urinating on the Alamo memorial. Or at least, so an internet rock star gossip site claims.

So let’s chalk up two more points for Collins: one for marching to the beat of his own drum (he is, after all, a drummer), and one for his valiant effort to rehabilitate the reputation of rock stars generally.

In the result, I score four points for our donor, and one negative against Texas. Not bad for a purveyor of fairly bland but progressive pop music. And certainly enough to justify repeating our invocation: “God bless you, Phil Collins.”

dsimmonds@wellingtontimes.ca