Layng Martine Jr.
Malcolm Gladwell famously asserted a theory of “sticky” ideas, those concepts that are interesting enough to remain in our consciousness after even a brief exposure to them. Some members of the Class of 1964 were lucky enough to meet a remarkably “sticky” person, someone whose single year in Granville was outpaced in every way by the impact he continues to have on the guys he met at the other end of Smith Hall.
The year was 1960, and three first-year athletes, hailing from Ohio, Iowa, and Connecticut, found themselves connected by campus housing and their sports, track and football. Neal Zimmers, John Lowenberg, and Layng Martine Jr. hit it off immediately, bonding over many of the same first-year experiences that still feel universal. At the end of that year, though, Zimmers and Lowenberg had to bid adieu to Martine, who headed back east.
Remarkably, their friendships not only endured over the ensuing 60 years but expanded in ways that drew other Denisonians into Martine’s orbit.
Lowenberg, a lifetime Denison trustee, is effusive about Martine, sharing stories about his friend with tremendous animation. Today, the friendship that began in Granville is characterized by travel together, regular telephone conversations, and presence at important life events. Lowenberg speaks of the twinkle in Martine’s eye, his big smile, his kindness and generosity, and refers to him as “the most memorable character” in his life. Zimmers emphasizes his character, writing, “I remember him as a fine halfback and sprinter, but more importantly as a great guy. He was a good friend. We knew with his talent that he would go far.”
It turns out that Martine went far enough in his ultimate career, songwriting, to be inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. Denisonians of every vintage are likely to be familiar with some of his hits, from the last song Elvis Presley recorded, “Way Down,” to “Rub It In” — a tune that was, with a slight lyrical modification, destined to endure for 17 years as an earworm for Glade air fresheners (“Plug It In”). Boasting a back catalog of some 600 tunes, Martine’s career stretched from New York to Nashville.
Martine’s presence in the music industry was hard won. He didn’t play an instrument until he was 23, and the idea of writing songs didn’t come to him until he was around 20 years old. He pitched early songs a cappella, inside bars and studios in New York City. Martine made lasting and positive impressions on others and, over time, wrote for an enormous range of artists, including The Pointer Sisters, Reba McIntyre, and Barry Manilow. Throughout it all, he, Lowenberg, and Zimmers stayed in touch.
Martine’s friends also admire his devotion to Linda, his wife of nearly 50 years, who was paralyzed in 1993. When the accident interrupted what had felt like a charmed existence, Martine wrote a wildly popular “Modern Love” column for the New York Times, capturing the couple’s resilience and joy: “And we’ve learned that alongside great loss we can still have a great life. We want it so badly, and we love it so much.”
In 2020, Lowenberg sent Lifetime Trustee Mark Dalton ’72 a copy of Martine’s autobiography, Permission to Fly. Dalton mentioned it at a gathering, only to learn that someone present was a Nashvillian and a friend of Martine’s. Introductions were made on the spot, and another Denison connection evolved. Dalton regularly meets with Martine and has learned that Don Taylor ’80 is also Martine’s neighbor and friend.
In the continuing story of a first-year who “stuck,” President Adam Weinberg’s assertion that relationship is in the DNA of Denison finds articulation.