Jacky Claiborne finds rock and roll the perfect language

Decades ago, Jacky Claiborne created his own lexicon. He taught it to nearly everyone he has met.

Jacky initiates conversations by asking, “Are you shaddered?”

Those of us who went to West Charlotte High with him in the early 1980s know the question translates, “Are you in a jammin’ mood?”

The only acceptable answer is, “Shadoobie,” which means, “Yep, I’m in a jammin’ mood.”

Jacky, who’s 51, has autism.

In high school, he would draw and hand-letter elaborate books that starred the kids he idolized. He had an active fantasy life that included popularizing “the lingo.” It never quite took off.

But his friends have always tried to speak his language. Since high school, when we’ve been asked if we’re shaddered – and we’ve been asked countless times – we respond, “Shadoobie.”

It’s a routine that makes Jacky happy. And Jacky needs routine.

Jacky was in the same grade as his younger sister, Margaret, who was one my best high school friends. He landed at West Charlotte because his parents (mom, Margaret, is a retired teacher, and dad, Jack, a former editor of The Observer’s editorial pages) took the brave step of mainstreaming him. If their son was going to function in the world, he was going to learn to do it in public school.

In high school, gentle Jacky sometimes got frustrated that he couldn’t make himself understood. But I never saw him get angry at anyone other than himself.

“I see the world differently because of my autism,” he says. “I get interested in offbeat things.” Things like the U.S. highway system, the Titanic and a particular kind of chair he calls a “mate’s chair.” (Jacky is more than just interested; he fully immerses himself in topics that capture his imagination.)

Music must have been an escape for Jacky – but it also helped him establish common ground. Jacky has an encyclopedic knowledge of 1960s rock. He especially loves The Rolling Stones. His fantasy life includes his band, The Falling Pebbles. (Get it?)

Jacky is, of course, lead singer and songwriter. “Making music helps me connect with people and vent my feelings,” Jacky told me recently.

Thanks to Jacky’s friends, what was just an imaginary band has become real.

My friend John Elderkin (whose stepbrother is married to Jacky’s sister), and a few others helped Jacky record a CD. “Yakkin’ and Slouchin’” contains straightforward songs like “I Really Wish People Wouldn’t Slouch in Their Chairs” and “Going to a Casual Place.” (That “place” was one of Jacky’s favorite spots – the late, lamented Cotswold Pizza Hut.)

Like any artist with a new CD, Jacky will have a release party. His friends have secured The Double Door Inn on Sunday, Dec. 28, for a live concert. They did the same last year for Jacky’s 50th birthday. It was a triumph. This may be “garage rock,” but it’s moved out of the garage and into one of Charlotte’s most storied clubs.

The band will play “The Lingo is All I Have Left of My Youth,” a musical lament about all we leave behind as we get older. They’ll play songs from Jacky’s back catalog. “Family Breakfast Matter” deals with being forced to eat things you’d rather not, and “So Sweaty you Can’t Recognize ’em” is a tribute to West Charlotte’s 1981-83 soccer teams.

“Jacky’s music gives insights into what being autistic might feel like, which is fascinating,” John Elderkin says. “But his work also shares universal truths about being human.”

Isolation, loneliness, longing – Jacky’s music covers all those themes, but it also touches on some of his specific grievances – like friends who put their wallets in their back pockets. (The wallet-in-the-back-pocket isn’t good for one’s back, Jacky says. Plus, it’s more likely to be stolen.)

John, a musician, writer and former English professor, says, “Jacky knows exactly how he wants his music to sound. When working with professional musicians and producers, he takes charge immediately. I was intimidated in those circumstances for years, so that really impresses me.”

It’s even more impressive given that Jacky’s independence was never assured. Today he lives on his own, holds a job (he’s been a dishwasher at a Charlotte retirement community for a decade), has a creative outlet and a circle of lifelong friends.

What John and bandmates Henry Pharr and Eric Willhelm and others from West Charlotte (Judge Lou Trosch, Jeff Ruppenthal, Roger Cobb, among others) have done for Jacky is one of the purest and most unselfish acts of love I’ve ever seen. I don’t know if those guys call it love, but that’s what it is.

Jacky’s pals defer to him in the studio, at rehearsal and on stage. “I’m the leader and the driving force behind the Falling Pebbles,” he tells me.

On Dec. 28, when Jacky takes the stage with his friends backing him, he’ll be the unlikely hero of a story even he couldn’t have imagined. “Performing in front of an audience,” he says, “makes me feel like I’m on top of the world.”

That evening, he’ll be totally shaddered. We all will be.

This story was originally published December 20, 2014 at 10:11 PM with the headline "Jacky Claiborne finds rock and roll the perfect language."