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Oak Creek — Longtime Oak Creek resident Eric Hudson sat under several blankets in his green recliner and thought back on his singing career during the 1930s and '40s.

He pushed a button that raised the chair, putting him in a more upright position.

The 86-year-old talked about singing all over the country in operas and nightclubs and on the radio.

He pondered on a jingle he did for Kay Jewelers in Denver, and began to sing.

"A pretty girl ... is like a mel-o-dy ... that haunts you night and day," he sang, then paused and muttered, "Oh, how the devil did it go?"

His wife, Bonnie, chuckled.

Sitting in their quaint home on Diagonal Road overlooking Oak Creek, where two big RVs are parked out front, the couple talked about "the good old days."

In the 1940s, after singing ballads professionally for about 15 years in New York, Chicago, Canada, Denver and various other places, Hudson worked at the Pinnacle Mine near Oak Creek and at the Routt County Sheriff's Office.

Born in 1916 in Yorkshire, England, Hudson moved to Colorado in 1920 when doctors told his mother the high altitude would help alleviate her asthma.

"It didn't really help," Hudson said.

But, nonetheless, here he was, still in Colorado.

After living in Littleton for a while, Hudson's family moved to Oak Creek, where he eventually graduated from high school.

After high school, Hudson drove to Denver twice a week for three years studying music, singing, playing violin, piano and saxophone.

One day, his teacher told him there was nothing more he could teach the young Hudson and recommended he go to California.

That said, Hudson moved to California, where he met a talent scout from Metro Goldwin Mayer.

Before long, the scout became his agent, and shortly after that, Hudson found himself singing "semi-classical" tunes like "I'll See You Again Old Man River" in New York City.

Hudson said he didn't care for New York that much. Soon he was back with "the fellas" in Denver.

One night, Hudson and his buddies were in the Senate Lounge, across the street from the Denver Capitol building. His friends asked the owner if Hudson could sing a tune.

"Oh, I don't want to sing," Hudson remembers exclaiming.

But after some debate, he finally went up on stage and sang. Several weeks later, the owner called Hudson and offered him a job singing. He sang there for three and a half years.

Then fate called.

Hudson's mother, who lived in Oak Creek, was sick. He moved back to the Yampa Valley, where he would spend most of the rest of his life.

After working as a coal miner, Hudson found work as a deputy for Routt County. His job was mostly a mundane one, transporting prisoners, until one day, it was anything but mundane.

While making the all-too-familiar trip, a backseat prisoner got out of his handcuffs.

"To this day, I don't know how he got out of those cuffs," Hudson said. "I felt something on my gun. You know, they didn't have cages back then."

Realizing what was happening, Hudson flung his elbow back, hitting the prisoner in the adam's apple, and that was the end of that story.

When Hudson finally retired in the 1980s, he finally found the time for his hobbies, including woodworking, fishing and camping.

"He'd go out to his work shed and bring me back surprises," Bonnie said, pointing to many items around the house.

Of course, the couple also did a lot of traveling in their motor home. "A bad day fishing is better than a good day working," reads a bumper sticker on one of the motor homes that took them through most of the western continent during the 1980s.

These days, the Hudsons spend most of their time either at home or at the doctor's office.

Eric Hudson doesn't have that electric green chair for luxury; he needs it to help him stand up. He uses a metal cane and anything else he can find to prop him up to get somewhere in the house.

Hudson has severe back pain from falling off the roof of his home several years ago, breaking a vertebrae in his lower back. Hudson also has a heart condition in which sometimes his heartbeat is too slow or too fast, which prompted doctors to implant a cardiac defibrillator just this past August.

Hudson was the first person in the world to receive this kind of defibrillator, which is safer than previous models and sends an electric shock to his heart in case it is beating too fast or too slow.

"It's like a bomb going off right here," he said, pointing to his chest as the defibrillator gave him a charge about a month ago.

Though Hudson's body is weak, his mind is strong.

Though his career, hobby and travel days are for the most part over, he proved he could still sing, while telling an incredible life story that stretched many years across states, countries and continents.

He still knows what it takes.

"I see these country singers on TV today and I don't fall for it," Hudson said. "Half of them can't sing at all. Singing comes from right here (pointing to his gut) and right here (pointing to his heart)."