Loretta Lynn: Coal Miner's Daughter
Page 24
Don: Yeah, but you can’t say “By God.” That’s cussing.
Me: That’s right. Where is that little devil?
Ken: He’s asleep in his bunk.
Me: Well, I’m gonna fine him three dollars right out of his paycheck. Then we’ll put it in the piggy bank.
Don: Mom, you’re running one of those company stores. Next thing you know, you’ll be paying us in scrip, like in the coal camps. It’s almost that bad now.
Me: You hush up, Don Ballinger. I’m the boss here. I’ll fine you for sassing the boss.
Don: Sassing’s not a crime.
Me: On my bus it is.
Anyway, that’s the way it goes for the next hour, just arguing about fines for the fun of it. There’s already fifty dollars in there, mostly from Jim Webb and Cal Smith. When the tour is over, we’ll throw a party or something—if the boys don’t get the money when I’m not looking. I don’t know how Jim Webb finds time to cuss. He’s so busy driving the bus and making conversation on our citizen-band radio. He’s always talking to truck drivers about “Smokey the Bear.” I thought maybe Jim was just interested in stopping forest fires, but it turns out Smokey is the nickname for the state troopers. They didn’t used to bother us, but since the interstates dropped their speed to fifty-five, they’ve been a problem. You ain’t supposed to give messages about state troopers on the radio. That’s why they talk about bears so much.
We pull into Toledo around noon. The boys are all starving. There’s a big diner, but it’s packed with folks coming from church. We usually like McDonald’s and avoid Howard Johnson’s. But this time we see a fish-and-chips place that looks empty. The reason it’s empty is because they don’t open until the stroke of noon. The boys go out, around nine of ’em, and breathe heavy on the clean glass doors, until the women get disgusted with ’em and open the restaurant. The boys know I can’t go into restaurants because my fans would surround us and wouldn’t let us eat. So they bring some fried fish back into my room as we drive to the auditorium. It’s a beautiful new place out in the country. You don’t even see Toledo. I’m thinking of getting more sleep but there’s a reporter from the Toledo newspaper who wants an interview. I always like to meet writers because they’ve been nice to me over the years. This man is named Seymour Rothman. He acts like he don’t know too much about country music—asking me simple questions like do I enjoy one-night stands, how do I write my songs, stuff I’ve answered a thousand times before. I can see Jim Webb and Cal Smith laughing at the questions. They start to clown around, pretending to play poker and stuff. But the man is so nice, I answer all his questions. Then his photographer wants to take a picture of me out on the lawn. It’s country music, see, so they want to get some green grass. All right. Only it’s dropped to around forty degrees, there’s this vicious wind blowing, and the rain is starting to feel like wet snow on my cheeks. The photographer keeps clicking away and my hair is blowing all over the lot.
“You’re gonna make me look like a mess,” I complain.
“Just one more,” the photographer says. That’s what they all say.
Finally we’re done. We go back in the bus while I thaw out. I’m convinced that article is going to be a disaster. (Six weeks later, Seymour Rothman writes a cover article for his paper’s Sunday magazine. The picture of me is beautiful—and the article goes into all the main points of my career. A real nice job. I should have known he was a professional. The only thing that makes me mad is, he guessed too high on my age.)
Anyway, we do two shows in Toledo. In between, they feed us a nice chicken dinner in the backstage cafeteria. This is a first-class operation here. We’re all exhausted from the long trip. After the second show, we drive back to Columbus.
The bus needs some fixing at the home garage, so we’re going to stay in Columbus for a few off days, then head to Canada and upstate New York. I’m looking forward to nothing but resting. It may not sound too exciting—three days off in Columbus—but it means sleep. I probably should fly home to the ranch and see my babies, but by the time I got there, it would be time to start packing again. So I’m just gonna sleep. We get back to the motel in Columbus, and there’re no Gregory Peck movies on the television set tonight either. So it’s just me and the four walls.
31
What’s Next?
And love is the foundation we lean on,
All you need is love to ease your mind….
—“Love Is the Foundation,” by William C. Hall
This is my life today, my “glamorous” life. Sometimes I ask myself, how long is this gonna go on? My twins are always asking, “Mommy, when are you going to stay home?” And my doctor tries to cut down my travel time because of my migraines and high blood pressure.
I hear people in Nashville gossip that I’m gonna wear myself out. But other singers keep traveling until they’re fifty or sixty. Look at Ernest Tubb. He’s learned not to wear himself down. He just does what he needs to do, and he’s still going.
But you can’t be halfway in this business. If you don’t meet the fans, you lose all you’ve got. And I love people and I love to sing, that’s what keeps me going. But when we get to the point where we don’t need another penny, I’d have to think about it. I’ve done everything there is in this business. Maybe there’s something else I could do that would help people more.
A lot of people say I’d really miss show business if I quit. Well, I’d miss some of it. But I never realized it would be like this when I started—all this traveling. Now it’s the only life I know.
I’ve never developed any other activities over the years—don’t play cards anymore, don’t read much, don’t play tennis. I was never on a golf course in my life until Ernest Tubb dragged me out to watch him play in 1974. I told him I’d rather watch baseball, where you can see the ball. So I guess I won’t take up golf when I retire. Really, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Wash dishes? Heck, we just got ourselves a dishwasher last year.
Maybe I could spend more time with the kids. The twins are gonna need me around as they get into being teenagers. I want them to graduate from high school and maybe go on to college. I believe in education and wish I had a better one. Maybe I could help my older kids, too, on account of not being around when they were growing. They’ve got kids of their own now. I could be a real grandmother—baby-sit and stuff like that. But I don’t feel like a grandmother. And don’t tell me Doo is a grandfather—who wants to be married to a grandfather?
It’s been almost fifteen years since me and Doolittle had what I’d call a normal life, if we ever were normal, that is. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I stayed home. We argue like crazy when I stay home for a day or two. It’s really kind of funny. I’ve worked all my life and now I’m in a spot where men tell me how to run my business, and when I go home other people tell me how to run my home.
But all that is changing. I’m not the bashful little girl I was fifteen years ago, when my only dream was a comfortable house for my family. In those days, if Doolittle disappeared for a day or two, I just accepted it. I got mad—but I accepted it. I’m different today. I refuse to be pushed around anymore.
I know how lucky I’ve been. I wouldn’t have dared to ask God for all that He’s given me. I’m just grateful for the benefits my family has enjoyed. I didn’t do it. I couldn’t have done it on my own. I thank God every day for what I have.
I told you, I don’t go to church regular. But I pray for answers to my problems. Am I doing God’s wishes by performing the same songs, over and over again, until I’m fifty or sixty? Am I living the way I was meant to live?
Some people would be afraid to ask themselves those questions. Well, I’m not afraid. I want more out of life than I’ve gotten—and I want to give more, too. I’d love to travel more to other countries, particularly the Holy Land. I’d love to work more with the American Indians, my people.
It’s like I said at the beginning of the book. I feel things starting to change in me again. I’
m starting to dress more modern. I’m watching how the young people are looking for answers. I’m putting my life in God’s hands, nobody else’s. So that’s where the book ends, folks. I can’t give you the entire Loretta Lynn story, because I’m positive there’s more to come.
You just watch.
Acknowledgments
Permission granted to quote from the following (All Rights Reserved):
“I Wanna Be Free” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1970 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc., Nashville, Tenn. 37203; “Coal Miner’s Daughter” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1969 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “They Don’t Make ’Em Like My Daddy” by Jerry Chesnut. Copyright © 1972 Passkey Music Inc., Nashville, Tenn.; “When You’re Poor” by Tracey Lee. Copyright © 1971 Coal Miners Music Inc., 7 Music Circle N, Nashville, Tenn.; “That’s Where I Learned to Pray” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1965 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “You’re Looking at Country” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1970 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “I Take a Lot of Pride in What I Am” by Merle Haggard. Copyright © 1968 Blue Book Music, Bakersfield, Calif. 93308; “I’ve Never Been This Far Before” by Conway Twitty. Copyright © 1973 Twitty Bird Music Publishing Co.; “Two Steps Forward” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1965 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “One’s on the Way” by Shel Silverstein. Copyright © 1971 Evil Eye Music Inc., New York, NY.; “Mama, Why?” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1968 by Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky-Tonk Angels” by J. D. Miller. Copyright © 1952 Peer International Corp.; “I’m A Honky-Tonk Girl” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1968 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “I Love You, Loretta Lynn” by Johnny Durham. Copyright © 1969 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “Rated ‘X’ ” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1971 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “Hey Loretta” by Shel Silverstein. Copyright © 1973 and 1974 Evil Eye Music Inc.; “I Miss You More Today” by Loretta Lynn and Lorene Allen. Copyright © 1972 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “One Little Reason” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1969 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “Blue-Eyed Kentucky Girl” by Bobby Hardin. Copyright © 1973 King Coal Music Inc., 7 Music Circle N, Nashville, Tenn.; “Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ on Your Mind)” by Peggy Sue Wells and Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1966 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “Back to the Country” by Tracey Lee. Copyright © 1975 Coal Miners Music Inc.; “I Only See the Things I Wanna See” by Loretta Lynn and Loudilla Johnson. Copyright © 1968 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “Trip to Hyden” by Tom T. Hall. Copyright © 1971 Newkeys Music Inc., Nashville, Tenn.; “What Makes Me Tick” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1970 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “Red, White and Blue” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1975 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “Why Me?” by Kris Kristofferson. Copyright © 1972 (BMI) Resaca Music Publishing Co.; “Five Fingers Left” by Loretta Lynn. Copyright © 1969 Sure-Fire Music Co. Inc.; “I Believe” by Ervin Drake/Irvin Graham/Jimmy Shirl/Al Stillman. TRO-Copyright © 1952 and 1953 Cromwell Music Inc., New York, NY; “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver/Bill Danoff/Taffy Nivert. Copyright © 1971 Cherry Lane Music Co.; “Love is the Foundation” by William C. Hall. Copyright © 1973 Coal Miners Music Inc.