Can you imagine trying to die, like really going through with it? You have a plan: You wake up that morning, get in your car, and drive to the side of the road. You park, soberly walk to the middle of the Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge, and take in the view. The city of Nashville stretches out along the Cumberland River, Nissan Stadium to the east, the twin spires of the Batman Building to the west.
A lot of couples from Nashville take their engagement photos on the Seigenthaler (I got a little too stoned while writing this and welled up looking at some random family’s pictures—They look so happy!). It’s a Tuesday, though, so you’re mostly alone, except for a small crew filming a music video a few dozen feet away. Whatever, you’re already here. You climb out over the barrier, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. This is it.
Then you hear a voice, a bit pinched and gravelly, yet soft. He’s getting closer, taking slow steps towards you. You look to the right and fucking Jon Bon Jovi is right there. You don’t know what to do. You give a little wave. Hello!
We don’t know what he said to her, since the surveillance footage has no sound, but Bon Jovi talked a local woman off the ledge of the Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge two days ago. I bet he didn’t say “Hi, it’s hair metal legend Jon Bon Jovi.” I wonder if she even knew who he was—I bet a lot of men over sixty look just like that in Nashville. And then there was the risk that his identity could have escalated the situation: What if she was embarrassed she didn’t know any of his music? What if she had an alcoholic father who blasted Slippery When Wet as he yet again cracked open the garage fridge? What if her ex was from New Jersey?
Maybe she chose the spot because of the bridge’s history: John Seigenthaler was a journalist who made national news in 1954 for saving a potential jumper at the then-Shelby Street Bridge. The man who wanted to jump called The Tennessean to pitch his imminent death as a front-page story. They sent John. The man went to jump, but John grabbed his collar; apparently, upon his rescue, the man whispered to Seigenthaler, “I’ll never forgive you.”
I guess Bon Jovi (who actually spells his first name John, too) probably didn’t think about stuff like that. He saw someone in crisis, and he forgot about himself. I bet he still feels like the teenager he was when he formed Atlantic City Expressway; I bet he still thinks opening for Southside Johnny was the pinnacle of his career. I don’t know if he had a plan, what he would do if she went for it. I hope he would have grabbed her collar. He probably didn’t know the bridge’s history, but I’m sure he’s been told, “I’ll never forgive you.”
We’re in the middle of a protracted re-negotiation of how fans are supposed to behave towards celebrities, and what boundaries you can claim once you write a song like “Livin’ On a Prayer.” I’d like to think these discussions make us more civil, but I worry they’re alienating and cruel, that the end result is a culture of sanctimonious deference. I don’t know how other musicians would have responded if they were on the bridge that day, but I’d hope that the stakes would collapse those distinctions. I guess I’m just relieved that Bon Jovi was there. I wonder if she was a fan before; I wonder if she’s a fan now.
“It takes all of us to help keep each other safe,” the Nashville chief of police tweeted after the event. Yeah, all of us and Bon fucking Jovi.