George had started talking to himself about his friend, Donald Duck. He and Donald would carry on conversations with each other. George would ask Donald a question then he’d answer the question in a Donald Duck voice. He had practiced this so much that he could sound just like Donald Duck. They were buddies, and they made big plans to do certain things together. They’d scheme up things to do to the people they were mad at. They’d console each other as if they were a team working together.
The managers and cocaine dealers knew this was going on. They simply didn’t care. George was like a gearshift to them. If they wanted him up, they’d shoot him up, literally. If they wanted him down, they put him down. They knew how to do that. If he wasn’t moving fast enough, they’d throw him in overdrive. They nearly drove him to death. He was never left in neutral to idle. They couldn’t allow him to slow down because they were afraid he might come to a stop, and they’d lose control. There were many stop signs for George, but he couldn’t see them. He was blinded by the oncoming traffic.
The cocaine dealers knew George had friends who loved him and would encourage him to get off the substance. They knew he had family who loved him and were totally against his cocaine addiction. There were people in the music business that were against him using cocaine and warned him that it was ruining his career.
George finally gave his friend, “Donald Duck” some competition, he had created, “The Old Man.” The old man was George’s new friend. He went everywhere George went. He’d ride around with George and give George advice. He’d tell George stories about his life, and the two of them would make plans to do things together. George once told me about the old man.
“The old man nearly scared me to death. I had been driving down Highway 43 between Lawrenceburg and Florence. The old man showed up on top of my car. He had one leg hanging down through the sunroof, and the other leg was laid across the front fender of my car. I knew I had left him in Nashville, and I can’t understand how he got on top of my car, but all of a sudden, he was right there with me!”
“Maybe,” I explained, “He’s an angel and has wings and can fly as fast as you can drive? Maybe he was flying over your car all the time and decided to land on your car.”
“That’s the only way it could have happened,” George said, “An angel? If that old man is an angel, he’s the only Godly thing around me.”
It was a real confused time for George. It was a lonely time as well. I really felt sorry for him, but it was beyond anything we could do to help him. Before George had gotten on cocaine, he had gone to church with Peanutt and me a few times at First Freewill Baptist on Florence Boulevard. Brother Tom Malone was the pastor there. George really liked Bro. Tom. One evening, George wanted us to ride our motorcycles and wanted Bro. Tom to ride with us. Bro. Tom brought along his daughter, Maryanne, and we went riding. Bro. Tom talked to George about his relationship with the Lord, but not in such a way that it would be offensive to George. George listened because Bro. Tom was not preachy and very effective. We went back to Bro. Tom’s church several times. George said he enjoyed the services but never made any kind of commitment.
Peanutt started pastoring his own church, The Lord’s Chapel in Sheffield, Alabama. George visited our church a couple of times. One night, George called up and said he wanted us to come to his house. When we arrived there, George wanted Peanutt to pray with him, and George gave Peanutt a check for $5000.00 he said was for the church.
“Peanutt, I want to give this to your church,” George said when he gave it to him. We didn’t really understand why, but we accepted it. Some folks have made fun of Peanutt and made slurry remarks about Peanutt sermonizing George. They’ve even made fun of his calling to preach, but it never bothered Peanutt. He knows where he stands, and he’ll continue to stand on the Solid Rock.
George came to the place where he would ask Peanutt questions about God and the Bible. Peanutt was a new Christian himself, and sometimes he wouldn’t know exactly how to answer a loaded question. George decided to go with Peanutt to a tent revival held by Bro. Tony Staggs from Russellville, Alabama. There was a big tent set up on top of Hawk Pride Mountain, just out of Tuscumbia city limits. It was drizzling rain that night. Peanutt and George got out of the car and knelt down beside it. The rain began to fall even heavier. George and Peanutt knelt there listening to the preacher. No one had any idea that George Jones was outside that tent listening to the preaching and singing. George asked Peanutt to move up a little closer to the tent because he wanted to feel like he was a part of the service. They moved in closer. Tears began rolling down George’s face. Peanutt’s heart started pounding. He knew George had felt a stirring in his soul. Peanutt was sitting on pins and needles. He was in high hopes that George might surrender to the Lord. Just about the time Peanutt thought George was ready to make a move toward the altar inside the tent, a man came out and recognized George and blurted out to everybody that George Jones was outside. George was then ready to go, and so was Peanutt. Peanutt had to get George out of there. He knew there would be more damage done than good. They left the mountain service before the service was over to keep George from being confronted by a lot of people.
After George’s near miss at becoming a Christian at the tent revival that night, the Devil really went to work on him. The Devil knew he nearly lost George, so he started planting all sorts of stuff in George’s head. He truly was scrambling up George’s mind. George began to resent Peanutt being a Christian. He would call Peanutt and tell him he was coming over to our house to discuss the Bible. George would show up and rattle off unanswerable questions. He wanted to debate the Bible, and many times he would leave our house furious.
One time, he brought a beautiful bright red Bible with him. It had been autographed to George from Bob Herrington, whose title was “The Chaplain of Bourbon Street” at that time and who was a popular evangelist. George brought the Bible in and turned to some scriptures that he had been reading and asked Peanutt what he thought about that particular scripture? Peanutt explained to the best of his ability what the scripture meant. Of course, George disagreed with every explanation Peanutt gave to him. “Where is God? Why don’t he come down here right now and let me see him? Why does he hide from me? Is he a dictator? I don’t understand why he don’t come to me and show himself to me like he did to you?” George said angrily.
The more Peanutt tried to explain what the Scriptures meant, the more furious George would become. Finally, George grabbed the red Bible and started ripping pages out of it. He opened the door and threw it into the yard. He stormed from the house in a rage. We picked the pretty Bible up and kept it, and we still have it to this day.
George went to Nashville for a few days and then came home. He was in a good mood, but that only lasted about three days. He said he was going to the barbershop and when he came home, he was all messed up again. George had different moods that would show up depending on what he was ingesting into his system. He came home in his traveling mood and asked Linda to drive him to Florida. It was already pretty late in the day. Linda reluctantly agreed to drive him to Lakeland, Florida although she was dreading it. It only took thirty minutes to pack and get in the car, and Linda barely had time to get her necessities together. When they arrived in Montgomery, Alabama, George changed his mind and wanted to go home. Linda had been driving for five hours and was tired. It was already after midnight, and she would have to turn around and drive five more hours.
They made it to Birmingham, and Linda insisted that George find a room. She said she couldn’t drive any longer and was afraid she’d fall asleep at the wheel. George told her to pull into the next motel she came to, and they’d get a room. When they woke up the next morning, they showered and went to the car. By the time Linda had started the car, George had decided he wanted to go on to Florida. He told Linda to head towards Lakeland.
George had been snorting a little cocaine off and on all day. He was beginning to get really messed up, and Linda was getting real
ly worried. He told her to pull into a service station and fill up with gas. Linda did as she was told and when the attendant had finished filling the car, he went inside to pay for the gas. For some reason, George walked into the station garage and started giving out $100 bills to the boys working there. The boys were in shock, and they didn’t seem to know who George was.
It wasn’t long after they were on the road heading south toward Florida that Linda became very tired from her lack of sleep. At the same time, George was getting more and more messed up. About fifty miles down the road from where they had bought gas, George said he wanted Linda to pull off the Interstate and park on the side of the road. Linda told him she wouldn’t do it because she would get a ticket for stopping on the Interstate. She had no idea why he wanted her to stop, but she relented and pulled off to the side of the road.
George blatantly asked her to snort cocaine. Linda told him in no uncertain terms that she would never use cocaine. He was aggravated at her and told her it wouldn’t hurt her if she tried it. Linda flatly refused and started making excuses that she was sleepy and had to make good time on the road while she could stay awake. Even though George was upset at her, he didn’t push the issue and gave up asking.
They reached the Florida state line, and Linda realized she had to get off the road and get some sleep. She also knew that George was getting higher and higher on the substance, and she didn’t know what to expect from him.
“George,” Linda said, “I’ve got to get some sleep, I’m exhausted. I’ve got to lay down.” George agreed to stop at the next motel they found, and they both slept until the next morning.
George woke up at 6:00a.m. and then showered. He woke Linda as soon as he was finished and told her to hurry up and get her shower and get dressed because he wanted to get to Lakeland as soon as he could. Linda dressed in shorts thinking it was going to be warm down in Lakeland. She drove away from the motel but only traveled about twenty-five miles when George said he wanted to stop and get something to eat.
They stopped at a Kentucky Fried Chicken and when they got back in the car, George said,
“Linda, let’s go back home, I don’t want to go to Lakeland. We’ll come back down here next week.”
Linda was not all that upset at this sudden behavioral change because she didn’t know what she would be confronted with once she got to Lakeland. She knew she could call Cliff and Maxine Hider if she had to. They were good friends with George and Tammy. Linda had met them, and she really liked both of them and felt she could call them if she needed to.
On the other hand, Linda dreaded the long trip home. She was already worn out, so she made up her mind that she was driving all the way home no matter if George liked it or not. She was going home, and she was going to stay when she got there. She drove back to Florence without stopping except for gas and something to eat, and every mile of the way she was thinking, “He’ll never get to do this to me again. If he goes to Florida, someone else will have to take him. It won’t be me.” They made it home.
Linda called and wanted Peanutt and me to go check on George. She said she had left him home alone. He was messed up, so she went to my mother’s house rather than staying with him in that condition. We found George at home, and he had been snorting cocaine.
Peanutt convinced George to go to Danvers Restaurant with us to eat some chicken. Peanutt picked Danvers because at that time of night there wouldn’t be many people there. The few people who were there recognized George but didn’t bother him. It was easy for anybody to see he was not in very good shape.
Our food was on the table and just as we began to eat, all of a sudden George shoved his face down into his plate and picked up a piece of chicken with his teeth. He started shaking it from side-to-side like a wild animal would. Peanutt convinced him to stop making a fool of himself. I think George was doing it because he felt like someone might have been watching him, and it ticked him off. It didn’t take much to put him in the foulest of moods when he was coked up. We left the restaurant and took George home with us because we knew Linda was not coming home.
Peanutt realized that something was going to have to be done with George. He was getting worse all the time and was running like a wild animal from place to place and never happy anywhere he went. One night about 7:00p.m., the phone rang. It was George. He was crying.
“Peanutt, come over here. You’ve got to pray with me.” George cried.
We immediately went to George’s house. He was still weeping when we got there.
“Peanutt, I was in Nashville and a light came into my room. It scared me, but I know it was a light from God. You’ve got to pray with me, and help me become a Christian.” The three of us joined hands, and Peanutt began to pray for George. Peanutt and I knew George probably better than anyone else, and we knew this time he was as sincere as he’d ever been in his life. The next day, we tried to call Jimmy Swaggart because George had been watching Jimmy Swaggart on TV when the light came into his room. We never talked to Mr. Swaggart because his “gate keepers” just kept passing us from secretary to secretary. Finally, we wound up with a girl who happened to be from Florence, Alabama, and she knew us. We explained our situation to her and told her that we needed Mr. Swaggart to talk to George. We were surprised that Jimmy Swaggart would not make himself available; especially, since this was George Jones calling and not some person who wanted to waste his time. We asked her to please have him return our call but to this day, he has never called us. We were very let down and disappointed because we felt that maybe he could have helped lead George to Christ.
After the prayer, George testified that he felt better about himself. He was straight for several weeks and was doing much better. The vultures couldn’t stand it. They came sneaking back into his life, and it wasn’t long until George was patronizing the bowling alley on Florence Boulevard a bit too often.
George wanted us to go bowling with him, so we would go and begin playing a game. George would start the game and then make excuses as to why he needed to step away for a while. We watched him going into a room at the back of the alley. When he emerged from his secret place, he would be so messed up that he’d make us quit in the middle of the game and take him home.
We had been going to the bowling alley and bowling with George since the day he moved to Florence. We loved to bowl and always had a good time because George was straight and a lot of fun.
When the bowling alley was brought under new ownership, something went wrong, and everything changed almost overnight. It took us a while to realize that the purpose of going to the bowling alley was not to bowl. By the time we figured it out, it was too late.
George was our life, and it had always been fun to go bowling, hang out at the Moose Lodge, play bingo, camp out, fish, play volleyball, play Aggravation, go on trips, hunt, or just sit around the house and watch TV.
Cocaine and its suppliers had robbed George of all the fun things we did together as a family. It had all been destroyed. George was really happy in those days, but they had to mess him up. It was the master plan of the ones who were hungry for money that got him addicted to cocaine, and then stole every dollar they could from him. The more he gave to them, the more they wanted. They didn’t want George to get his head on straight and didn’t care if his act was together. They didn’t want him to have a decent life. They wanted control of him, his career, his money, and anything else they could get from him. The hell with his life, his health, his friends, his family, and even his soul.
George was a dying man. He only weighed a scrawny 98 pounds, and we knew something had to be done for him. He became more and more dependent on cocaine and became totally paranoid. We desperately wanted to help him, but we were unsure of the route we needed to take.
George had gotten more and more dependent on cocaine, while he was becoming more and more paranoid. He had completely lost self-control, dignity, and any confidence in himself. He had become extremely jealous of anyone who was a friend to us because
he thought we were putting someone else above him. I guess it seemed that way because we had been spending more time with other friends and not a lot of time with him.
Peanutt and I were getting so many threats coming in by phone warning us to stay away from George that we had to pay attention and cut back the time we were spending with him. Those calls were real and threatening. We never totally shared with George how badly we were afraid for our own lives and his. It was way worse than George realized.
One evening, I had planned to go to a Home Interiors party at my best friend’s house that was scheduled to begin at 7:00p.m. Peanutt had business to take care of, so I went on to the party. George knew that I spent a lot of time with Barbara Robertson, and he knew that I was going to be at her house that night. George had been to Nashville and when he returned home, he called my house. Of course I wasn’t there, so he called me at Barbara’s, and the phone rang halfway through the party. George asked Barbara to get me on the phone.
“Where is little Jesus?” George asked when I answered.
“Who are you talking about?” I asked him.
“You know little Jesus, Peanutt-you know little Jesus,” he slurred.
I could tell George was stoned, and I could tell he was angry. I told him that Peanutt was gone to take care of some business and would be home later on. He called me four or five times that night wanting to know if I had heard from little Jesus. Each time I talked to him, I could feel more and more anger in his voice.
“I want to find that little Jesus and pluck his beard hairs out one by one.” George yelled.
I had never heard George talk like this before. It scared me because he sounded so different and strange. I had never heard George talk about anyone the way he was talking about Peanutt. I kept calling home, so I could warn Peanutt of George’s condition.
The Legend of George Jones: His Life and Death Page 17
