Behind the Grand Ole Opry Curtain

by Grand Ole Opry

  “I’ve sung all of Donna Summer’s hits a million times each! I mean, this was working every night until three and four in the morning, doing five sets a night. I feel like that was when I really ‘did my time’ and paid my dues.”

  She sang backup for Nashville stars such as Crystal Gayle and Helen Cornelius, recorded ad jingles, and sang hundreds of demo sessions for Nashville songwriters.

  “I pounded the pavement of Music Row for what seemed like forever, a young single mother who didn’t want to ride the coattails of a famous dad,” she later reflected. “I sang in a beer commercial with a tall, skinny kid named Alan Jackson. One of my last sessions was with another struggling up-and-comer, Trisha Yearwood, singing backup on a Paul Overstreet record.”

  Signed by Elektra Records, she went to Los Angeles to record a disco-flavored single called “Every Home Should Have One” in 1981. She returned there to work on her 1983 pop-rock album for Warner Bros. Records, Above and Beyond the Doll of Cutey. She also shot its MTV video, “Killer Comfort,” on the West Coast.

  “I was in L.A. recording, and I had a three-year-old son,” Pam recalls. “I was involved in the pop world, and I just felt like I didn’t belong. I’ll never forget it. I thought, ‘I can’t bring a child into this environment. I’m a Southern girl, and my family—imperfect as they may be—are my safety net, because, you know, I’m a single mom. Let’s be honest, I don’t want a career in L.A. or New York. It’s not worth it to me.’

  “That was one consideration. And the second consideration was that everybody kept going, ‘We like it when you sing all this other stuff, but when you sing country, it just sounds right.’”

  Back in Nashville, this time for keeps, Pam Tillis began issuing country singles in 1984. Nothing clicked. She issued “Those Memories of You” in 1986 to no avail. A year later, it became a huge hit for Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris. During this period, Pam also recorded “Maybe it Was Memphis” and “One of Those Things,” also to no avail. Both became hits for her five years later. Warner Bros. Records dropped her in 1987. Pam was facing her thirtieth birthday as a failure.

  Her talent was the talk of Music Row, but it was getting her nowhere. Everyone in the industry loved her torrid soprano singing, her vivid songwriting, her enchanting wit, and her quirky personality.

  “That gave me a lot of self-confidence, at first. Then it started to become a burden, because people started to get angry that it was taking me so long to become what they thought I should be. Seriously, I didn’t want to go to the grocery store, the mall, the post office, because invariably I’d run into somebody who’d go, ‘Why aren’t you a star yet? You’re shattering my illusions of order in the universe.’ It was like, ‘Please. I’m working on it!’”

  Pam began reviving country oldies in a series of Nashville nightclub showcases called “Twang Night.” She and her female songwriting buddies established “Women in the Round” nights at the Bluebird Cafe.

  In 1990 she signed a recording contract with Arista Records, which issued “Don’t Tell Me What to Do” late that year. It made her a star, and her Put Yourself in My Place CD became a gold record.

  “I’ve gone on and on about Daddy not spoiling me,” she said at the time, “and now I think he’s finally said, ‘Well, she’s come this far on her own; I think I’ll do something nice for her.’ And he gave me a bus.”

  Professional success was accompanied by personal happiness. Pam married award-winning songwriter Bob DiPiero in 1991. Soon after, she released the platinum albums Homeward Looking Angel and Sweetheart’s Dance. The highlight of the latter album was “’Til All the Lonely’s Gone,” which she recorded with Mel and her siblings Connie, Cindy, Sonny, and Carrie. She was named the Country Music Association’s Female Vocalist of the Year in 1994.

  “It just made me so proud,” says Mel. “My thoughts immediately went back to when she was a little girl, and she used to do her little imitations of Jack Benny. And she’d sing. She mentioned during the awards show that ‘It hadn’t been too long ago that my dad stood right here.’ I’m awfully proud of her.”

  Pam became the first woman in contemporary country music to solo produce her own album, 1995’s gold-selling All of This Love. Its hit singles included “Deep Down,” “It’s Lonely Out There,” and “The River and the Highway.” Country Music Television named her its Top Female Video Artist of 1995. The following year she costarred in a groundbreaking all-female country tour alongside fellow “second-generation” performers Lorrie Morgan and Carlene Carter.

  Pam and Bob filed for divorce in 1997, but her star shined brighter than ever. Having already appeared in the feature film The Thing Called Love, she spread her wings as an actor on episodes of the CBS series Diagnosis Murder and Promised Land. In 1999, she headed to Broadway to appear in the hit musical Smokey Joe’s Café.

  In the summer of 2000, Jimmy Dickens asked her if she’d like to become a cast member of the Grand Ole Opry.

  “Let me think about it—YES!” Pam responded. “This is a special night. This is a lifelong dream to join. I want to send thanks to Dad and God.”

  On August 26, 2000, Marty Stuart officially inducted her into the Opry cast. “Welcome home, Baby,” said Marty.

  “I never dreamed that would happen,” says Pam. “I didn’t think I’d win a CMA Award, either. I’m still just like, ‘Wow!’ I do like it there so much.”

  Pam recorded an album of her father’s songs in 2002 called It’s All Relative: Tillis Sings Tillis. The record’s supporting cast included Dolly Parton, Rhonda Vincent, Ray Benson, Trisha Yearwood, Emmylou Harris, The Jordanaires, Delbert McClinton, Marty Stuart, and, happily, Mel Tillis.

  “My fans have totally embraced that record, and the reviews were incredible,” Pam comments. “That, for me, was just a big labor of love and an important gesture. I felt like that was something that I just really wanted to do.”

  By this time, Mel and Pam had become much closer. He brags about her success, sends her cards and flowers, and sings duets with her.

  Mel was making a guest appearance on the Grand Ole Opry in the spring of 2007 when Bill Anderson inquired if he would like to become a cast member. “We’d love to have you,” said Bill.

  “This is another part of a dream yet to be fulfilled,” Mel replied. “The Opry’s always been on my mind.”

  Pam inducted her father into the Opry cast on June 9, 2007. She confided that night that she’d always felt a little uncomfortable about becoming an Opry member before him.

  “All week long, people have been telling me they can’t believe Daddy wasn’t already an Opry member,” Pam told the audience. Then she turned to Mel and added, “And that just tells me, ‘You belong here.’ The best thing about getting inducted first is that I get to induct you. You are now an official member of the Grand Ole Opry.”

  Mel Tillis had an even greater treat in store. Just four months later, on October 28, 2007, he became a member of the Country Music Hall of Fame.

  “You are special, and you are great,” Pam told him that night. She also reminded the audience that Mel Tillis is still renowned for his marathon three-hour concerts and penultimate showmanship. Then Jimmy Dickens presented Mel with his official Hall of Fame medallion.

  “A true friend is someone who knows all about you and still likes you,” Jimmy told the audience. “That’s the Mel Tillis I know. When he steps onstage, he upgrades country music. Men like this are hard to come by.”

  Responded Mel, “I’ve been a blessed man, and I want to thank this little angel on my shoulder. . . . I love you folks.”

  7

  Fatherhood First

  No other artist in history so completely dominated his genre as Eddy Arnold did when he was a Grand Ole Opry superstar.

  Eddy first sang on the Opry as the lead vocalist in Pee Wee King’s Golden West Cowboys in 1942. He became a solo cast member the following year. By the time of his final Opry show, on September 11, 1948, he was even bigger than the most fam
ous country program in the world. He and Minnie Pearl cried in each other’s arms after his final Opry broadcast, but Eddy Arnold knew he needed to move on.

  “It was a real wrench to leave,” Eddy recalled, “but I knew if I were to keep on goin’ upward, I had to. . . . My world had changed. I didn’t really know whether it was for better or for worse, the night I walked to the center of the stage on the Grand Ole Opry and told the audience I was resigning. I told them it was my last performance, and I felt inside as if it were my last performance, anywhere. I thanked the people for being so kind to me . . . saying all the things everyone expected me to say; then I hurried offstage and cried in the wings.

  “Tom Parker was my manager when I left there,” Eddy explained. “It took Tom quite a while to convince me that I had to do that, ’cause my ties were emotional there. It just didn’t seem right to leave performers and friends like Minnie Pearl, Roy Acuff [and] Uncle Dave Macon. I loved those people. I admired them. For years, my only ambition had been to work with them.

  “A lot of people couldn’t understand [leaving the Opry]. But we knew there were a lot of other things I could do. And we did ’em. I was a new boy on the scene. I was makin’ pretty good money, and I had other deals to make.”

  At the time, no one in country music was hotter. His 1947 smash “I’ll Hold You in My Heart” had remained at number one for twenty-one weeks, and 1948’s “Bouquet of Roses” stayed at the top of the charts for nineteen weeks. During 1948, only seven country songs occupied the number-one position, and six of them belonged to Eddy Arnold.

  “It’s a Sin” (1947), “I Couldn’t Believe it Was True” (1947), “Molly Darling” (1948), “Anytime” (1948), and “Take Me in Your Arms and Hold Me” (1949) are other songs of the 1940s that became country standards because of Eddy Arnold. Several of them were also pop-crossover hits.

  “All I was looking for . . . is good songs,” said Eddy. “That’s all I have ever looked for—music that touches people’s hearts.”

  With that simple credo, Eddy Arnold essentially built RCA’s Nashville division. In his heyday, his records outsold those of every other artist on RCA, including the company’s biggest pop stars. His 1944 recording session for the label launched Nashville as a recording center.

  His 1945 single “Each Minute Seems a Million Years” was the first of his ninety-two top-ten hits. That is a tally still unmatched by any other artist. It was also the first of sixty-seven consecutive top-ten hits, again a figure that is unequaled. In 1946, “What Is Life Without Love” became the first of his twenty-eight number-one hits. Eddy Arnold’s career total of 145 weeks spent at number one is, again, far in excess of anyone else’s.

  By the end of his first decade as a recording artist, Eddy Arnold was a national icon. Among the evergreens he introduced in the 1950s were “May the Good Lord Bless and Keep You” (1951), “I Wanna Play House with You” (1951), “I Really Don’t Want to Know” (1954), “Cattle Call” (1955), “You Don’t Know Me” (1956), and “Tennessee Stud” (1959).

  In 1952, Eddy Arnold became the first country star to host his own prime time network TV show. Eddy Arnold Time was unique in that it aired in syndication as well as over all three networks—CBS (1952, three nights a week), NBC (1953, twice weekly), and ABC (1956, weekly).

  In the 1960s, Eddy soared even higher. He embraced the sophisticated new recording techniques of the Nashville Sound and created such standards as “Make the World Go Away” (1965), “The Tip of My Fingers” (1966), “Misty Blue” (1967), and “Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye” (1968). All of them landed on pop as well as country popularity charts.

  “That was fine,” said Eddy of the recording style that revived his career. “That brought the music out of the hills and brought it uptown.”

  In 1967, Eddy Arnold was named the Country Music Association (CMA) Entertainer of the Year, one year after he’d already been inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. That accomplishment is also unduplicated.

  He made guest appearances on virtually every television variety program of the era, starred in more than a dozen TV specials, and headlined at the top showcase venues of Las Vegas, Hollywood, and Manhattan. The smooth-voiced balladeer took country music to new heights of sophistication and respectability.

  “I do have a wider audience than just the country audience,” commented Eddy Arnold. “One of the reasons for that is that I went to Carnegie Hall. I did bookings in Las Vegas and Lake Tahoe, over and over. I appeared with I don’t know how many symphony orchestras. I went to New York and courted those people. I did national television.” Eddy went on to say that he made no excuses for vastly broadening country’s appeal by adding string sections and pop-crossover arrangements to his ballads.

  By the end of the 1960s, he was an undisputed country-music titan. But it all came screeching to a halt on August 1, 1971. On that date, son Dickey Arnold was in a gruesome car crash near Bessemer, Alabama. He was dead on arrival at Birmingham’s Lloyd Nolan Hospital but was revived by the staff. Suffering from severe head injuries, he was in a coma for nine weeks. Eddy cut back his concert schedule sharply to remain by his son’s side as much as possible.

  When Dickey regained consciousness, the young man had little memory of his life, had limited speech, and had lost movement in various parts of his body. Rather than send his boy to a rehabilitation facility, Eddy brought him home. Eddy and his wife Sally rented rehabilitation equipment and supervised a team of therapists.

  The superstar was fifty-three at the time, but the hard physical labor of his early years had left him big and strong. He carried his adult son when necessary. Every morning, he hauled a large trough into the house, picked Dickey up, put him in it, bathed him, and gave him rubdowns to restore the feeling in his limbs. Day after day, he nursed him. Step-by-step, he taught him to walk again. Life changed completely for Eddy Arnold. His thriving career was put aside for fatherhood.

  When his son was young, Eddy was on the road and missed many important childhood moments. The tragedy made his family his top priority once more.

  “I guess I was just trying to be a father,” he later reflected about this trying time. “My wife worked very hard, and I tried to be as much help to her as I could.”

  “Dick’s doin’ pretty good,” Eddy commented fifteen years later. “I call him, and we talk all the time. After Christmas, they put some good things on sale, and I always take him and buy him two or three outfits.”

  Eddy Arnold’s career never regained the momentum it had before the accident. But he never regretted the extraordinary bond he forged with his son when Dickey needed him most, particularly since his own childhood had been so bruised.

  Eddy was born near Henderson, Tennessee, on May 15, 1918. His father died of heart and kidney disease when he was still a boy.

  “We were a very poor but a very proud family,” he recalled. “At one time, my father was a very successful farmer and then lost it. Then he died when I was eleven years old. We were in the Depression. It was beans-and-bread time. I wanted to get away from that farm labor. I wanted to do better, but I didn’t really know what better was.”

  Creditors auctioned off the family farm, its equipment, the furniture, the livestock, and even the family pets. The Arnolds became sharecroppers on what had been their own land. Eddy went to work as a laborer. That meant dropping out of high school at age sixteen.

  “I grew up on a dirt-road farm. Not a gravel road, a dirt road. I did hard labor. I used to cut timber, a lot of pine timber. You know those big power-line poles? I used to cut them and scale the bark off them in the swamps.

  “When I was on the farm, I heard Jimmie Rodgers records, Vernon Dalhart, Gene Autry. I heard the records, but I didn’t own them. I didn’t even have a record player. We couldn’t afford one.

  “I had a little guitar. And in the spring and summer, I’d sit on the porch and strum for anybody that came along. There was a man that drove up in front of our place, selling subscriptions to a newspaper in Jack
son, Tennessee. And I played him a little tune. He said, ‘Son, I probably can get you an audition on the radio station.’ And he did, on a station called WTJS. They let me on that station. I didn’t make any money. So I got me another job on the side, driving an ambulance.”

  That was in 1936. By 1939, he was broadcasting on KXOK in St. Louis. He sent a recording of his voice to Pee Wee King (1919–2000), who hired him as a vocalist in early 1940. Eddy was so excited about joining the band, he didn’t even ask what he would be paid.

  “I learned a lot from Pee Wee—I’ve always been a student of watching other people perform,” said Eddy. “Traveling in the 1940s was tough. The cars were not air conditioned. All we knew to do was just get in the car, tie a bass fiddle on top of the car, let the windows down, and go. It was tough when I look back on it today. Then, I thought, ‘Oh boy! This is fun!’ But of course, I’d been working in the trenches, cutting timber and working on the farm. And anything was better than that, to me.”

  During a 1940 radio broadcast by the troupe on WHAS in Louisville, Eddy spotted a petite brunette in the audience who looked like movie star Olivia de Havilland. Struck by his strapping build and dimpled chin, Sally Gayhart chatted with him after the show. They were soon courting. Sally and Eddy Arnold were married in Nashville on November 28, 1941. They were together for life.

  “I had an old friend who’s dead now, a pop singer named Gene Austin [famed for “My Blue Heaven,” “Ramona,” and the like]—He came to visit me once and was then living with his fifth wife,” Eddy recalled. “He said, ‘Eddy, I only made one mistake, and that was getting rid of my first wife.’

  “I just figured I might as well stay with the same one,” Eddy concluded with a chuckle. Daughter Jo Ann was born in 1945. Son Richard “Dickey” followed in 1949.

  Sally prodded Eddy to better his circumstances, so he went to WSM to propose a solo show for himself. When the station agreed, he gave Pee Wee his notice in 1943. The following year, Eddy was given his own Grand Ole Opry segment.