Sitting in his wheelchair, Russ Daughtry watched the video of
himself performing onstage. As his fingers plucked a dizzying string
of notes on a guitar, his voice simultaneously mimicked the sounds.
Then he and the rest of the band launched into a sizzling version of
"Purple Haze," and the audience packed into the low-ceilinged room
roared with delight.

A few minutes into the clip, Daughtry turned off the tape by
squeezing the remote control with both hands. "People ask me if it's
depressing to look at that, and it's not, really," he said. "When I
watch it I can still feel the strings in my hand. It's neat to visit
that time."

The filmed concert took place in 1996, just a few months before
Daughtry noticed he couldn't bend the strings of his guitar like he
used to. When he began to have trouble climbing stairs and to lose
feeling in his thumbs, he visited his doctor, who sent him to a
neurologist the next day. So began 13 grueling months of testing
with specialists that culminated in a grim diagnosis: ALS, also known
as Lou Gehrig's Disease, a progressive ailment that destroys the
nerve cells controlling movement of voluntary muscles. The patient
experiences increasing weakness, muscular atrophy and, when
respiratory muscles fail, death.

Before the onset of ALS, Daughtry had a successful career as a
studio musician, teacher, jingle writer for TV and radio commercials,
freelance producer and performer, playing with artists as diverse as
Allan Ginsberg, Blood Sweat & Tears and Jeff Beck. But from January
1997 to the beginning of 1998, Daughtry gradually lost his ability to
make music, walk or feed himself. These days Daughtry, 46, eats and
drinks with help from his wife, Laura, and two teenage daughters,
Paula and Carolyn. His illness has reduced his lung capacity to
about 30 percent of what it was a few years ago, and a machine
monitors his breathing while he sleeps.

But there are some circumstances for which he is thankful. Even
though Daughtry's illness has moved swiftly, he can still talk and,
to some degree, sing, which is very unusual. Loss of speech is one
of the first symptoms for most ALS patients. And Daughtry is still
able to enjoy one of his passions, composing music, with the help of
software on his computer.

In his home studio full of instruments, books and sheet music,
Daughtry played recordings of some pieces he has composed throughout
the years. One of these is "Laura's Song," a guitar and flute duet
he wrote for his wedding 21 years ago. In addition to writing new
songs, he is entering into the computer all the music that he's
carried around in his memory for years or jotted on scraps of paper.

One aspect of his former life has taken on greater meaning since
he became ill: teaching. Rather than giving it up because of his
inability to play the guitar, he has focused his energies on finding
new ways of communicating with students, through talking and showing
them videos of guitar performances. "Teaching has grown more dear to
me now," Daughtry said. "Before I thought it was more fun to go play
concerts or private events. Now I view it as time to be close to the
guitar. It's also nice to think I can give something positive to
someone even in my present situation."

Sometimes new students will come to Daughtry not knowing of his
disability. In that case, Daughtry shows them the "Purple Haze"
video. "Then I assure them that all that knowledge is still locked
in my mind and I just need the right student to unlock it. I ask
them, 'Are you up for it?' They always say yes," he said.

Daughtry said teaching without demonstrating actually has
benefits. "Often, students' ears don't develop very well because
they're always looking at the teacher play. This way they're forced
to use their ears because they're the only instrument making a sound.
"
One of Daughtry's students is Todd Hiller, an associate music
director of Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, where
Daughtry has been a member for more than a decade. Hiller met
Daughtry 15 years ago when Hiller attended a summer music camp in
Indiana. Even then, he said, he was impressed by Daughtry's
technical mastery of guitar and sense of humor.

"He was refreshing because I had come out of a pretty conservative
background," Hiller said. "Russ was a guy who embraced a wide
variety of musical styles and had come up through the rock 'n' roll
era of the '60s and '70s and had a whole breadth of musical
experience I'd never been exposed to."

An experienced guitarist, Hiller finds Daughtry's teaching
approach works well.

"He's simply talking and explaining to me specific finger
placement. He remembers how he used to play it, and then he takes
the second step of looking across at me to quickly describe in a
phrase or a word picture how I can play some of the things he's
talking about. I think it's pretty remarkable. I've been amazed at
some of the things we've been able to cover."

Before Daughtry discovered teaching and composing as healthy
outlets, coping with ALS seemed an insurmountable struggle.

"I was bitterly disappointed at first," he said. "There's always
a certain amount of healthy denial where you think, 'I can get out of
this.' Then you get cornered by facts."

Slowly he came to face his illness. "There's always a big picture
you're missing when you're too depressed. When I look at what
remains, I see there's so much there. I can still make music, thanks
to modern technology. I still feel like I've won the lottery by
marrying Laura and having two great kids. I don't cry about what I
don't have anymore."