Today, Robert Plant turns 76. I had the great fortune of meeting Mr. Plant once at the Gatwick Airport Hotel. He was a true gentleman in every respect.
There is not a single entertainer who experienced more joy and more sorrow during the 1970s. Think about it: Jimmy and Robert had no peers in the rock world during the 1970s. (Yes, JPJ and Bonzo could also claim this but Plant and Page were the larger-than-life faces of Zeppelin.) They knew they were in the most popular, most successful, and most worshiped band on the planet. The feeling Robert must’ve had waking up at least between 1970 and 1976 was the feeling, Michael Jordan had between 1990 and 1998. The same as the feeling John Lennon must’ve had during the 1960s. How heady a trip it must be to know, just know, that you are the gold standard alone at the top of the mountain of the form of entertainment that millions and millions and millions of people revere. I guess you could say no one had a reason to have a bigger smile on their face when they woke up during the 1960s than John Lennon and Paul McCartney; during the 1970s than Jimmy Page and Robert Plant; during the 1980s than Joe Montana; and during the 1990s than Michael Jordan.
But Mr. Plant also suffered the greatest tragedies of any entertainer who actually survived the 1970s. First was the horrific car crash that almost killed him and his wife in Greece. And then the ultimate tragedy of losing a son. There’s a reason, why we have a word for a spouse who loses another spouse (“widow”) or a child who loses their parents (“orphan“) but no word for a parent who loses their child. It is the ultimate heartbreak.
When I met Mr. Plant, I shook his hand and thanked him for all of the thousands of hours of joy his music he had given me and given all my friends.
Happy birthday, Robert. I hope you have many more.