Coal Miner's Daughter

by Coal Miner's Daughter (Expanded

  John is the twin brother of Dave Thornhill, my lead guitar player, and they joined the band about the same time. John played the bass. He liked to drink and cuss like most of the boys when he first joined the band. He even owned his own airplane. His wife was real religious, but John kind of went his own way. Then he started flying with a preacher who said to him one day, “John, I think it’s about time you got baptized.”

  Nobody is sure what convinced John, but he agreed to get baptized. The next morning, real early, he called up his twin brother and said, “Guess what?” Dave thought it must be something real serious to call so early in the morning, but John said, “I just got baptized.” That kind of surprised everybody.

  After that, John was a different person. He carried his Bible study books with him on the bus, and he’d read and pray whenever he got the chance. He was a born-again Christian, and they’re the strongest kind.

  It was kind of strange for the other boys. John stopped drinking and staying out late, and if the boys would see a pretty girl outside the bus, John wouldn’t even go to the window to look. I think the boys were not sure how to take this new side of John, but he just did what he felt was best.

  On Saturday night, John would go out and buy some grape juice and he’d offer to have Communion on Sunday. I was interested in what he was thinking about, so I started studying with him. We’d say a prayer and have Communion and then we’d study the Bible together. And he’d be telling me I should get further in my studies.

  I got pretty familiar with parts of the Bible. It’s my favorite book. There’s sadness, happiness, foolishness, wisdom, anything you want to feel in the Bible. But the most important thing, for me, is the story about the Jews and how they were God’s chosen people, and how Jesus came to earth for all of us. That’s what I believe. But even with all the studying, I didn’t feel like getting baptized.

  That went on for about a year, while I was getting sick so much. One time, when I was in the hospital, John came to visit me. I didn’t think I was ever gonna come out of that hospital alive. John said, “If you believe, then you should be baptized, just to say you’re a Christian.”

  I was still resisting it, you know, when I went back on the road again. But one night me and John were having an argument in the back of the bus.

  I said, “I’m going to heaven. I don’t drink or blackguard or run around, so I know I’m going to heaven.”

  And John said, “Loretta, unless you get baptized in Jesus’s name, it’s not enough.”

  We were still arguing while I flipped through the Bible, looking for a place to read. You know how it is sometimes—you flip over the pages and suddenly your eye catches something. Well, that book just flew open to James 2:26, where it says, “For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.”

  To me, that meant it wasn’t enough to behave yourself, to do good things. You really had to stand up and show your faith, to be counted as a believer in Christ.

  I didn’t say anything at the time to John. But in the back of my mind, I decided I was going to get baptized sometime. Then I landed in the hospital another time, in 1972, and that’s when I made up my mind. As soon as I got out, I told my daughter-in-law, Pat, that I was ready. She’s got an uncle, Dr. Joe McClure, who used to be a preacher until he decided people needed a doctor even more. But he still preaches some. I called him one morning and said I wanted to get baptized before I went back on the road. He told us to come over at three in the afternoon and he’d do it.

  I was real nervous because the Bible says you have to be immersed, and like I’ve said so many times, I’m scared to death of the water. But it was a very private thing—just the preacher and his wife and my daughter-in-law. Nobody from my family volunteered to go with me, but I didn’t mind. The Bible says you’ve got to walk this lonesome valley by yourself. They dunked me in this special tank at the church, and we said the prayers, and I became a baptized Christian. I felt stronger right away, too. Like I was given new strength by Jesus to go about my work. I went back on the road that night again. I didn’t tell anybody for a day, until I told John Thornhill.

  I’ve tried to keep up with my religion since then. I can’t get to church most Sundays because of my traveling but I’ll read the Bible whenever I can. I want to make another religious album someday, but it will have to be without instruments. The Church of Christ feels you should make music in your hearts, but they’re against instruments for religious music.

  The people in the church are good people, trying to live as close to apostles as they can. Sometimes they ask me to do a benefit or do something else. I’m proud to be a member of their church, and I just hope they understand my interest in things like reincarnation and séances.

  Of course, I respect other people’s religions. I think if you’re living right with God, you can beat temptations. It really makes no difference to me what church you go to. We’re all working for the same Man, trying to get to the same Place.

  Early in 1974, John Thornhill announced he was quitting my band to study religion. He got a job in a factory in Nashville and he was real happy to be home every night with his wife and children. I know they’re happier, too. It’s a rough deal for a family man to be traveling, and I respected John’s decision.

  I think it was hard for Dave and the other boys to understand, though. They had all come up the hard way, just like John, and they couldn’t see giving it up just when he was starting to make good money. But everybody respected John’s decision. I guess you could say I’m the one who got left out on the deal. Since then, I haven’t had anybody to study the Bible with.

  I don’t know if people are surprised to hear my religious views or not. I try not to make a big issue out of religion while I’m working because I know everybody’s got their own point of view.

  In 1974, there was a big fuss when a bunch of people were celebrating Jesus outside the Opry. They were asked to keep moving and Skeeter Davis got mad at the policemen for that. As a result, she got suspended from the Grand Ole Opry, which really hurt her.

  The way I feel about some of the Jesus people is this: I was walking out of the Opry one night and I was in a hurry. This girl stopped me and she kept asking, “Do you know Jesus? Do you know Jesus?” And she kept preaching to me right on the street. Well, I told her I knew Jesus since I was knee-high, and I walked right on. Sure, I know Jesus. Anybody that wants to can know Jesus. I don’t want to criticize Skeeter, because she’s got a right to her views. The Bible says you should let your light shine but I don’t think it should shine so bright it upsets other people.

  It’s not for me to tell another person what to believe because like I said, I respect other religions, too. Growing up in Butcher Holler, we didn’t have any prejudices. We hardly knew any Catholics, and the Jews were written all over the Bible as God’s chosen people, but I never knew any Jews until I got into show business. Since then, I’ve met a lot and found them to be real smart and good workers. A lot of the people in my organization are Jewish, and I learn a lot from them. I never knew that many Jews don’t eat pork, out of religious belief, until we had a barbecue one time and one of my friends said they didn’t eat pork. Now we’re real careful, me and Doo, about offending anybody about that.

  The way I feel about it, I’m proud to know Jewish people. Don’t forget: Jesus was a Jew. I never knew much about their history until a few years ago. When I was first married, Doolittle told me about the war in Europe, where he served. But it just didn’t sink in what went on over there.

  Then, after my songs got pretty popular, we made a big tour of Europe. They offered to take us sightseeing in Germany, and I went along. I thought it was a beautiful country and the people all worked hard. I was enjoying myself real well until they took us to a camp they said was a prison during the war.

  This guide, a German, was taking us around. He talked about ashes and bones being buried there. He showed us a big stove he said they had put Jews in. I just couldn’t b
elieve it. I said, “You did what?”

  He told me the Germans marched the Jews in there and burned ’em. I got out of there as fast as I could. I don’t like to feel hatred for anybody, and I was feeling hatred over what the Germans did. I just didn’t understand it, and I haven’t been back to Germany since. The place I want to go to is Israel. Doo and me have talked about that a lot. We were gonna go a few years ago, but they had all that trouble and we didn’t want to get caught in a skyjacking or nothing. But we’ll go there soon. That’s one of my big ambitions.

  Really, all kinds of prejudice bother me. I’ve heard more than enough color prejudice from other people, but I don’t have it. I’m always happy when black people come to my shows or ask for my autograph. At the motel in Nashville they all know me. I’m very comfortable with blacks—maybe because I’m part Cherokee and we understand each other. I don’t know.

  I don’t like to talk too much about things where you’re going to get one side or the other unhappy. It’s like politics. I’ve got strong opinions on a lot of things I don’t talk about. You come out for one side, the other side won’t like you. And anyway, my music has no politics.

  Politicians are always asking me to support ’em, and I’ve had lots of politicians on both sides be real nice to me; there’re some that I count as my friends. But I ain’t gonna endorse ’em because that would make the other side mad at me. What party am I? Well, let’s put it this way. My daddy was a Republican because that’s what people are up in the mountains. But that don’t mean I have to be. What party was Franklin Delano Roosevelt in? See, there’s good on both sides.

  George Wallace called me up and wanted me to do a fund-raising show for him. I said politics and music mix about as well as liquor and love. George McGovern came to one of my shows and talked to Doolittle. He even led the applause when we finished our show with “God Bless America Again.”

  That song now is a perfect example of what I mean. Bobby Bare and Boyce Hawkins wrote it back in the 1960s when we had all that trouble about the war in Vietnam, and then in 1970 college kids were killed by the National Guard at Kent State, and then there were beatings in Chicago. It looked like this country was really breaking up. Well, that song is about some person with not too much education who just can’t figure out what’s going on. So all he can say is, “Wash her pretty face, dry her eyes, and then God bless America again.”

  Now some people thought that song was in favor of the government and against the long-haired people. But I’m still singing that song today, and we’ve had a vice president and then a president of the United States both quit office when they were accused of things.

  And I still don’t understand what’s going on—I feel like it’s about time for honest people to start running this country. And I don’t care what party. Just get somebody that will feed the poor people and forget about these wars. I wasn’t for Vietnam. When I told that to the hippie newspaper in Atlanta, The Great Speckled Bird, all my people got nervous. Both my sons were in the service in Asia, and they said there was dope and everything. It was a big waste.

  Anyway, things still ain’t rosy today. You just go out in your cities and look at the back streets. There’s so much poverty in this country—Doolittle’s had hundreds of men asking for just any kind of job on the ranch. I’m waiting for a politician who’ll help the people. Then maybe I’ll support him. Or her.

  29

  Confessions of a Bug

  I’m glad that Raquel Welch just signed a million-dollar pact,

  And Debbie’s out in Vegas, working up a brand-new act…

  —“One’s on the Way,” by Shel Silverstein

  My friends in Nashville say if I wasn’t an artist, I’d be spending all my days as a bug—you know, one of those fans who are always bugging famous personalities. Just let me loose in Hollywood, and I’d go crazy. I’ll introduce myself to anybody, ask for his autograph, just stand around and gawk. I’m terrible. I even embarrass myself.

  You saw me on that Grammy television show, right? I was so excited being in Hollywood I came on screaming, “Here I am; if anybody wants to make me a star, here I am!” Then I forgot to read the names of the singers nominated for the award. I lose my mind when I get out there.

  I remember the first celebrity I ever saw: Remember “Hoss,” that big guy on Bonanza—Dan Blocker? Me and Doo were pushing my record down in Texas or Oklahoma somewhere and we saw him. I just stood in the crowd and got his autograph—told him I was a singer. He was a real nice fellow. I was real sorry when I heard about him dying.

  Well, I ain’t changed any since then. I was doing a television show in Hollywood a few years ago when I found out Flip Wilson was in the next studio. “Flip Wilson!” I said. “Point me where I can find Geraldine, ’cause I want to get some tips from her.” I found Flip in the wardrobe department, and he was real nice. He said he knew who I was. Later he dressed up like Geraldine and came over to the Dean Martin set and said he wanted to give Loretta Lynn some tips. I laughed so hard. Now we’re good friends, and whenever I do a television show, I want him to be on with me.

  There’s only one famous man I’ve ever had a problem with. I ain’t gonna say who, because he’s an important man on television. I ran into him at NBC one time and said, “Hi, I’m Loretta Lynn.” Well, he looked at me like I was delivering the garbage and he gave me a real fish handshake and then turned away. I don’t know if he knew who I was, but it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t treat anybody that cold.

  But I’ve had some real thrills in my life, too. Like my favorite actor has always been Gregory Peck. I’ve seen him in everything he’s ever done—To Kill a Mockingbird and Duel in the Sun are my favorites. To me, Gregory Peck is everything—he’s handsome, he’s smart, he’s polite to people, he’s brave. I’ve always had admiration for that man, so when I got to Hollywood a few years ago, I kept telling David Skepner I wanted to see Gregory Peck. The people at MCA said they would arrange it, and finally they did it for my birthday. They said I was going for an interview, but instead they took me right into his office. He just raised up out of that chair like a good ole country boy that’d been behind a plow all his life. I knew it was Gregory Peck the minute I saw him—big man, black hair, all man. He was like country, so down-to-earth. He looked exactly like he does in all his movies.

  He and Doolittle started talking about farming. For almost an hour they talked about horses and cattle and stuff. And me? I just sat there with my mouth open and looked at him. Finally, I found my tongue. I said he looked Indian, what with those high cheekbones. And I was telling him about parts of his movies that he forgot. Like David and Bathsheba, with Susan Hayward. To me, that’s one of the greatest movies I’ve ever seen. Now when I want to see it, I’ve got a copy in my recreation room.

  When we were finished talking, I got a big picture of him. That one’s hanging in my bedroom, and I’ve got one in my pocketbook, too. Doolittle didn’t mind—he just put up a picture of Dolly Parton. Anyway, I’m still dreaming about doing a movie with Gregory Peck as the producer. It would be terrific.

  There was a television movie I was supposed to be in, playing a woman who was a mother by the age of fourteen. Sound familiar? It would have been about immigrants traveling across the country. I liked the idea, but we couldn’t work it into my schedule. We were booked six months ahead, and they called me three weeks before the filming was to start. Television is funny that way. It’s too bad. I could have played that as myself and wouldn’t have needed any acting lessons. I’ve got to act natural—can’t be nothing but myself.

  It’s like when they had me on The Dean Martin Show. Now, that was a mess. I was rehearsing all week and never saw Dean Martin. He’s got this stand-in who rehearses all week. Then Dean Martin comes in for the show, and you’ve got to push him into his place because he hasn’t rehearsed. Anyway, they wanted me to sit in Dean Martin’s lap at the end of a scene. I said no, I wasn’t raised to sit in other men’s laps, not even for television. I don’t sit in Do
olittle’s lap in public; it’s just bad manners. All these Hollywood people were looking at me like I was crazy. I didn’t care. I know what’s right and wrong and I wasn’t sitting on Dean Martin’s lap. Finally they said I didn’t have to, which was a good thing, because there was no way I was going to.

  The next day the producer sent me a dozen roses and said he wanted to meet the woman who wouldn’t sit on Dean Martin’s lap. I guess they’re not gonna forget that too soon. But I did the same thing on Dinah Shore’s show. The producer wanted me to model with a silver cigarette holder. I said I didn’t smoke and wasn’t going to model any holder.

  But I love being around show business. I’ve met so many stars: Vic Damone—he followed me on a show one time and we both messed up our lyrics. Lorne Greene—I ran into him in the restaurant at the Sheraton Universal Hotel. He had beautiful gray hair, said he knew my records. Louis Armstrong—we talked about doing an album called Loretta Sings the Blues, but he said he wasn’t strong enough to record at that time. He died two months after that. Of course, Dinah Shore—she’s my special friend, always giving me good advice. And Mike Douglas—the minute I walk into his studio, I feel at home. He understands my Butcher Holler ways and he just lets me be Loretta. I like a person who don’t make fun of your accent or your upbringing. That happened to me with one talk show one time. I told the guy after the show I wasn’t going to be back with him. And I didn’t for a long time. I heard he got some bad mail about it.

  But most of the people have been great. My twins are bugs just like me. They want to meet Gregory Peck. And you know what? When I got the top vocalist award in 1972, they weren’t excited for me—they were excited because they got to see Charley Pride. Now they’re asking me if I really know Dolly Parton. I figure that must be Doolittle’s influence.