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March 6, 1963 :
One of the darkest days in country music history
When
my clock radio came on Wednesday morning, March 6, 1963 and I heard the news that Patsy
Cline, Hawkshaw Hawkins, Cowboy Copas and Cowboy's son-in-law Randy Hughes, who was also
Patsy's manager and lead guitarist, died in that plane crash, no words can describe the
shock I experienced. It was hard to imagine I'd never see them or hear their
wonderful voices again.
Because of my work in country music promotion,
I had become friends with Hawkshaw and his wife Jean Shepard, Cowboy, his wife Lucille and
their daughter Kathy (who was married to Randy Hughes) and Patsy Cline and her husband
Charlie Dick.
I jumped to the telephone that morning and started calling Loretta Lynn
and Dottie West in case they didn't know. I thought of little Brenda Lee, but
remembered that she was overseas on a tour. All three were extremely close to Patsy.
When Loretta and her husband Mooney came to Nashville in 1961, they
lived with us. In those days, country music folks were like one big family. We
saw everyone all the time - at the Opry, church,
the grocery store, the filling station and on the road.
Loretta and Dottie's phones were busy. They
were trying to call me. I finally got through, and all
of us were just in total shock. I was so distraught, I could hardly speak or think. When
you lose friends such as these, it's like losing kin folk.
We were concerned about Patsy and Charlie's kids, Julie and Randy, and
also about Jean, who was expecting her and Hawk's second child in a matter
of weeks. Loretta and Dottie were getting in touch with Charlie. Loretta said, "Faye,
call Jean since you are closer to where they live."
All I remember when I finally got Jean was, as distressed as she had to
be, she said she was holding up okay. I told her I would come over. She said
some people were already there and she'd call me if she needed anything. My husband and I
planned to
go over later.
I knew Cowboy and Randy only from talking to them at the
Opry. However, Hawk and Jean were friends. We'd known Hawk since before he and
Jean married. He and my husband raced cars at Marty Robbins' racetrack near Smyrna,
TN. Hawk kept his race car, "The Tennessee Stud," in our garage. He was
always at our house and never failed to bring us eggs from his farm.
I reflected on the close friendship Patsy, Dottie, Loretta,
Brenda and I had with Patsy - those memorable "hen parties" we'd have at her
house while we cooked and gossiped and talked about the business. There had been many,
many nights we'd be together between shows at the Opry at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge [on
lower Broad- way in Nashville, with a special second-floor entrance for the stars just
across the alley from the Ryman Auditorium].
It was always laughs, just us bunch of women, talking likes sisters
about our problems, husbands, kids and the business. The friendship and fun we shared with
Patsy would now be gone. Patsy's heart, home and pocketbook were always open to those who
needed it. Oh, how I would miss her and her devilish sense of humor. I couldn't help but
think that just when the best of her life had begun, it was ended.
The services for Hawk, Cowboy and Randy where mobbed. It was impossible
to get anywhere near the funeral home. My last goodbye to my wonderful friends was as
their funeral processions went by our home and we stood silently on the porch. They were
the longest processions I'd ever witnessed. We didn't get to say a real goodbye to Patsy,
because her body was flown to her hometown of Winchester, VA.
Though these precious loved ones were laid to rest, but the memories of
each of them never were. It's been forty years and I cannot remember everything that's
happened in my life. But from time to time, thoughts still come back about those good
times we use to share. They are lingering more today than usual and are as vivid and
big-as-life as ever. I'm thankful for those fond memories and the deep kinship we so
treasured.
~~ Faye
Morgan,
Indianapolis, Indiana |
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PATSY
CLINE:
REBEL, INNOVATOR, LEGENDARY STAR
by ELLIS
NASSOUR
She
was an original. Tempestuous. Tormented. Talented. A trail blazer. Triumphant even in
defeat. Patsy Cline was one of a kind.
Sadly, just when the best of her life began, it ended: March 5, 1963,
when on the journey home to Tennessee, after performing at a benefit, she, her manager
Randy Hughes and Grand Ole Opry stars Hawkshaw Hawkins and Cowboy Copas were killed just
outside Camden, TN, in the crash of Hughes' four-seater airplane.
For18 years after her death,
following the impact of such a great loss to country music and the entertainment world,
virtually nothing was written of this unique personality. Now,
Patsy has become more famous in death than she was during her lifetime. It seems, the
world cannot get enough.
Equipped with little more than raw ambition and talent, Patsy, from her
early days in Winchester, VA, and Brunswick, MD, struggled to make a name for herself. As sweet as her music could be, her personal life
was as passionate as it was reckless.
Though she died shortly after turning 30, Patsy left behind a
rich personal and musical legacy. She has developed cult followings around the world,
especially among young fans who are mesmerized by the hurt in her stunning voice.
Born Virginia Patterson Hensley in Gore, Virginia,
a hamlet near Win- chester, in what is called Apple Blossom Country, she possessed from
the earliest age a self-assurance that made her believe not only that she could be the
best female singer in country music but also that she was. Nothing could daunt her. A
saying sprang up about Patsy: "She's not conceited, she's con- vinced."
Her mother, Hilda Hensley, who
was also Patsy's best friend, told me she had no idea where Patsy got her talent, that it
must have been in her blood. She never had a lesson, but from age eight, when she began
singing on street corners and in her church choir, she had the most incredible voice.
Patsy had aspirations of being the youngest star ever on Nashville's
Grand Ole Opry. She told anyone who'd listen and sang anywhere they would let her. Of
course, the kids at school made fun of her dreams; which made her all the more determined.
And she her dream almost came true when, at age 14, she auditioned for the Opry. It was a
lost opportunity for many reasons, but Patsy returned home more determined than ever.
So determined, in fact, that she
made some costly mistakes, such as allow- ing the older bandleader she worked for (and
with whom she was having an affair) to sign her to a self-defeating record deal in the
late 1950s. Then, in the male-dominated country arena of that era, she had to constantly
struggle to be accepted as a solo female artist. But fight she did, and she won the
battle.
Through a national television
show, which showcased the talents of budding professionals and amateurs, she won
"overnight" stardom with her rendition of "Walkin' After Midnight," a
song she absolutely hated and which she was forced to sing - a pattern that recurred
through- out her career. The next time she
arrived in Nashville, she came as a star, with a hit which was soaring to the top of the
country and, in a first for a country female, the pop trade charts. Unfortunately, that
was followed by nearly four dry years.
If Patsy
could not lay claim to birthing what came to be known as the Nashville Sound, she brought
it out of diapers. Not always willingly.
She loved pop and rock music,
but preferred to record only country - the hillbilly kind. It took producer Owen Bradley
to get her on track. This he did brilliantly in record session after record session, where
he broke taboos by adding strings and drums to her tracks. He also tried emerging
songwriters, such as Harlan Howard, Hank Cochran and Willie Nelson and, with his
background as a big bandleader, introduced Patsy to songs from the 1920s and 1930s, which
they redid to amazing contemporary effect.
On the tour circuit, thanks to
numerous appearan- ces on TV, Patsy proved a country female artist could draw huge
audiences. In today's music world, where just about anything is accepted as melody and
where lines are easily crossed or merged, it'is hard to imagine the extreme impact that
Patsy and Bradley had on the period. Then, you were country (which usually meant
hillbilly), rock or pop.
Patsy changed all that, and was
equally at home with recordings that struck a unique balance between being moderately pop
and country. Interestingly, she didn't do
this willingly. One must credit Decca
producer Owen Bradley as the genius behind Patsy's unique voice. He pushed her -- sometimes screaming and fighting!
-- into uncharted territories. Patsy did not
want to sing ballads and she absolutely did not want to be per- ceived as a "pop
star."
Country music was her thing. Even
with the massive success she had on the crossover charts, she begrudged the fact that she
was having to record pop music. Vocally, she had a majesty and poignancy that many
say has never been equaled. She could produce sweep ing high notes and Western yodels; and
had the amazing dexterity to switch from a country hoe-down to vintage Irving Berlin or
Cole Porter.
As tribute to her
incredible popularity and artistry, in 1973, Patsy was the first solo female artist named
to the Country Music Hall of Fame. She left behind one of the greatest legacies in music
history, a legacy honored with a 1995 Grammy Award for Lifetime Achievement. In 1999, Patsy was honored with a star on the
Holly- wood Walk of Fame.
She influenced a legion of
performers, including Kay Star, Patti Page, Brenda Lee, Linda Ronstadt, Emmylou Harris,
Barbara Mandrell, Dottie West and, as evidenced by her
enormous hold over k.d. lang and Leeann Rimes, is still having an impact. So much
so that, in July 1997, People Magazine named her to their list of The Most
Intriguing People of the Century.
Patsy took her crossover
appeal to New York's Carnegie Hall, Las Vegas and Los Angeles' Hollywood Bowl, even to the
television teen dance show Dick Clark's American Bandstand.
She won countless music awards with such landmark hits as "I Fall to
Pieces," "Crazy," "She's
Got You," "Back in Baby's Arms," "That's How A Heartache Begins,"
"Why Can't He Be You?" and "Faded Love."
Ironically, though she
brought happiness to millions, she had a difficult time finding it in her personal life.
Though she and second husband Charlie Dick were deeply in love, as her fame increased they
constantly made recriminations against each other. To make matter worse, Patsy was
terribly scarred in a near- fatal automobile crash in the summer of 1961 that plagued her
with bouts of depression and, she felt, drove Charlie further away from her.
Just as Patsy
re-established her place on the charts with "She's Got You" and was
contemplating a break from Charlie, fate intervened.
Only three albums were
released in her lifetime,
but there were great songs from a session only a month before her death. These have been
repackaged in all manner of ways throughout the world.
Patsy Cline's Greatest
Hits continues on the Billboard Magazine album charts. "Crazy" is
the Number One worldwide jukebox champion.
Outside Winchester, VA, her simple gravesite is marked
with a bronze plaque that reads: Death cannot kill what never dies. And,
certainly, Patsy Cline is alive to all of us because of her indelible gift of music.
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from Patsy Cline's
grave marker :
" Death cannot
kill what never dies, love "
Patsy was a star
when she left us,
and a star
she remains. |
SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1963, FOLLOWING A SHOW IN
NEW ORLEANS,
PATSY CLINE PLAYED BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA ...
Here is a remembrance by Susan Sanford of the Birmingham Daily Mountain Eagle
[As] I was sitting ...
watching and listening to Patsy Cline sing those songs that could send cold chills down
your back, I could not believe what I was hearing ... Boutwell Auditorium was the
place to be for big shows, especially the WVOK Parade of Stars ... I [was] on a double
date. We had seen a long list of country music stars which ... included ... Charlie
Rich, (the truly awful) Jerry Lee Lewis ... Flatt and Scruggs, Mel Tillis and, of
course, Patsy Cline. I will never forget how beautiful she looked that night.
We borrowed some guy's binoculars and I could literally see her jewelry sparkling.
Her hair was very dark and her skin was, by contrast, very fair, and she wore a
gorgeous bright coral chiffon dress. She talked about how lucky she was to be there and
how thankful she was for all her fans. Just a few months earlier she had been in a
very serious car accident in which two other people were killed. She had spent three
months in the hospital and had not been back to work a very long time . . .
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An excerpt from Honky
Tonk Angel : The Intimate Story of Patsy Cline
Sunday, March 10, 1963
... Winchester, VA
. . . It would be polite to say that Patsy's funeral was a
three-ring circus. Since Charlie had to attend the services for the other deceased,
Patsy's funeral was moved to Sunday afternoon to give him, Mrs. Hensley, and members
of the family time to get safely to Winchester. The burial attracted thousands of fans and
a mass of media. They quickly became an unruly mob that city and Virginia state police
could barely handle.
Members of the family were disgusted with the
conduct of a majority of the crowd, but Mrs.Hensley and Charlie were too distraught to
know what transpired. The situation became so unmanageable that old friends of
Patsy's, such as the Crutchleys, the Deytons, Jumbo Rinker, even Bill Peer couldn't get
into the funeral home.
Sammy Moss, a Winchester disc jockey and bandleader who'd also
known and befriended Patsy early on,
noted on his annual Patsy Cline memorial broadcast in 1972: "This country DJ had
never expected anything like
this. I had been asked to be a pallbearer ... As I arrived ... about two forty-five
it looked as though something big was about to happen. Streets were
jammed. Traffic was almost at a standstill, and when I arrived at the Jones Funeral
Home I could see what all the commotion was about. The general public wanted to
participate in the final rites of Patsy Cline. It was filled to capacity. Finally,
the doors were locked so the service could begin."
The
memorial leaflet distributed by the family quoted Tennyson:
Sunset
and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems to sleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
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FOR A STARTLING STORY
OF EVENTS ON THE NIGHT OF THE PLANE CRASH,
NASHVILLE NEWSPAPER HEADLINES
AND
A TRIBUTE TO PATSY'S MOM,
HILDA HENSLEY . . .
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