CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Truth Shall Prevail
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Proverbs 22:1-2: “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold. The rich and the poor meet together: the Lord is the maker of them all.”
George is worthy of a good name rather than the bad ones he has obtained by the rowdy life style of his early years in the music business. He is a man who has always entertained the poor as well as the rich. I’m not speaking of entertaining them with his talents but through the goodness of his heart. He enjoyed going to different people’s homes and just sitting around talking and laughing with the people he liked. He liked poor people. For one thing, George felt most comfortable around people who were down to earth. He could relax and be himself, and I think it made him realize how blessed he truly was.
George liked people who were real and not fakes. He never cared for people who were always putting on a “show.” If a person seemed to be too uppity-uppity, George would sometimes find a way to bring them down a notch or two. He never exalted himself above other people even though he knew he was a legend. In all my years with George Jones, I never knew him to be any other way. Misunderstood? He was most definitely. Down to earth? One of the most humble people you could ever meet.
George’s attitude toward mankind was different from most people of his caliber. He cared for people in a different way than you might expect. Sometimes he reminded me of the Scripture in Proverbs 14:31, “He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker; but he that honoureth him hath mercy on the poor.” George felt a lot of mercy for people and such feelings have to come from God. George most likely was never aware of his goodness.
In the eyes of some people, it was not good for George to associate or spend time with people who were not on his financial level. I totally disagree with that way of thinking.
Proverbs 14:12, “There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.”
George lived a long time for some reason, and I truly believe it was because he had been good to people who were less fortunate than he was. He had feelings for those people, and his feelings were real; he was not phony with them. I feel that God blesses a person for the good deeds they do whether they are rich or poor.
Proverbs 16:9, “A man’s heart devises his way; but the Lord directs his path.”
I believe the Lord had a hand in many things George did. I think he led him in a lot of the paths he took in life and led him out of some as well. It’s always good for a person to be nice to those we don’t even know. The Bible says in Hebrews 13:2 that when we are kind to strangers, we may have entertained angels and have not been aware of it. George had a natural innate ability to know how to treat people fairly. The kindnesses he showed to people could have been a lesson he learned from the hard knocks during his childhood days. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being rich and famous, but there is something wrong with exalting yourself above other people who are not as fortunate as you.
Just like the Bible says in James 2:2-10:
“For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment; and you have respect to him that wears the gay clothing and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit under my footstool; are you not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts? Hearken, my beloved children, hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him? But you have despised the poor. Do not rich men oppress you, and draw you before the judgment seats? Do not they blaspheme that worthy name by the which you are called? If you fulfill the royal law according to scripture, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself, you will do well. But if you have respect to persons you commit sin, and are convinced of the law as transgressors. For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.”
Of course there were circumstances in George’s life that would prevent him from being able to be friendly to everybody he met, but I’m speaking of times that were permissible for him to be kind and nice to people that were less fortunate or poor. It was just a natural thing with George. I believe those qualities came from the good spirit in him, and good spirits certainly don’t come from the Devil. The point I am driving home is that George was never a mean person. He was never the bad guy some folks would have you believe. George Jones had a heart of gold.
He was never high-minded and was always compassionate with those people he met whom he felt needed it. God truly blessed George in many ways. He gave him talent, fortune, fame, health, a great family, and a long life. I am not trying to make a Saint out of George, nor am I trying to say that he’s never done anything wrong. What I am defending is the fact that George was a much better person than the picture a lot of people have painted of him. He was much more of a man than he has been given credit for. Just because the tabloids print something about a person doesn’t make it true. A ton of information was printed about George Jones that was not only untrue but complete nonsense. They never knew the man.
Proverbs 19:17 says, “He that hath pity upon the poor lends to the Lord, and that which he has given will he pay him again.”
I believe the Lord has repaid George many times. I think about the times that George’s career was declining and wondered if he could ever recover and get back to the top. Before I could even blink, George had another hit record. This is just proof that God does what he says he will do.
“Whoso stops his ears at the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself, but shall not be heard.” Proverbs 21:13.
George had a bad wreck, which caused a near death experience, and I believe the Lord heard his cry and spared his life. This is just another reward for George’s care for poor people. The amazing thing about that entire event is that at the time George was being recorded by a man he probably never realized loved him.
George Jones was full of mercy. Mercy was his gift, and he showed plenty of it. For that reason, he was blessed.
“Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy.” Matthew 5:7
It grieves me to hear people tell stories about George that I know for a fact didn’t happen. One popular tale is that George would be seen riding his lawn mower down the street to buy a bottle at the liquor store.
One guy living in Florence, Alabama said, “I lived next door to him, and he got on his lawn mower and drove it to a dealership and bought a car.”
I heard another man say, “I lived down the road from George when he lived in Texas, and he got mad at Jimmy and rode his lawn mower down the road to get a drink.”
This is the classic one: “George lived in Florida, got in bad financial shape and lost his car, so he rode his lawn mower to town.”
I’ve never known a time in George’s life when he could not afford a vehicle. Usually, he owned several at the same time not counting all the cars he bought for other people. False statements about George are what inspired me to write this book.
I feel that helping others was a form of nourishment to his soul. I never heard George complain one single time or make remarks of regret about helping others. If he had all the money and valuables he has given to his family, friends, strangers, charities, and other organizations, he would have probably tripled his wealth. If he had half of what he has been cheated out of, he would have had twenty times his wealth.
George was not a person who was comfortable fighting for his rights. He always said, “If they can live with it, I can live without it.” And in reality, that’s what he did. Most of those thieves have already faced death and will face judgment. Then what? “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.” Romans 12:19
I’ve heard George quote that Scripture many times. I could sense a feeling of hurt, disappointment, a look of being betrayed, but he had learned to cope with such things after years of experiencing t
he hurt and pain. He was aware of certain people and keenly noticed if a person’s motives were to help him or to exploit him. He hated crooks and deceitful people, but he was reluctant to confront them with their schemes. His awareness sometimes would keep him from making quick decisions or falling into traps that he perceived were laid out to hurt him. If there seemed to be no way out of a situation he didn’t want to be in, he would just not show up for the hanging. Pretty smart!
I’m no judge, but I have a pretty good sense of a person’s character. George was one of the very few people I could count on, and I always trusted him. It was extremely rare for me to rely on anybody, but I knew George was a trustworthy person when it came to common sense issues of life. Just because he wouldn’t show up for a concert once-in-a-while didn’t mean he would ever hurt me or disappoint me personally, and he never did. He was as loyal to Peanutt and me as we were to him, and he never once made us feel like he didn’t want us around him even when the big dudes came to town. He was the same way with other people he loved. It was a shame that such a good person had to get messed up with a gang of thugs and crooks that led him astray from the person who lived within his soul.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Dark Days of a White Substance
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The sky could never produce a darker cloud than the one that hung over George Jones during the time he was addicted to cocaine. His mind was racing like a raging tornado sweeping across the land and destroying everything in its path. It was devastating to see the destruction this little white powder was doing to this man’s life. He had sunk so far into the darkness that it was doubtful he would ever see the light of day again. His mind was so twisted that he had lost all sense of direction. He was being tossed to and fro like a bird caught in a whirlwind of destruction. He was being destroyed in every area of his life. His career was being demolished, his home life was wrecking, his longtime friendships were breaking apart, and his business deals were failing.
George had gotten to the point where he didn’t trust any-body… not even himself. He was totally confused about everybody and everything. He no longer knew the difference between a friend and an enemy. He didn’t realize that the people who had always loved him and stood by him through the good and the bad times were still the people who were true and loyal to him.
George couldn’t realize that there were evil people coming into his life who were exploiting his weaknesses and feeding him cocaine like throwing corn to a starving hog. These were the ones who were killing him a little bit every day. Each snort was bringing him another sniff toward death. The sad part is that they didn’t care if they killed him. All they wanted was George on cocaine, so they could get every dollar they could from him. They called themselves managers and believe me they were exactly that. They managed to drain the man of all his earnings, his career, his friends, and even his home life. The devils had no mercy on him; they had him in a place where he couldn’t run and there was no place to hide. These so-called managers didn’t want him involved with anyone they thought might try to help him get off cocaine. They supplied his habit even when he didn’t have the money to buy it. They would force him to perform at concerts when he was barely able to stand up much less complete a performance. They couldn’t have cared less how badly George felt, or how much it would damage his career; they only wanted to be paid for the cocaine he was using.
The people who really cared for George were hated by the suppliers. We were like somebody that would go into a department store and run off his or her best customers. George was a good user. If he didn’t have the money, he would buy it on their credit until the next concert, and they would be right there to collect.
George and Linda had been together for several years and had gotten along really well until George started snorting cocaine. George became an entirely different person not only because of the cocaine, but because the dealers were always running down everybody around him. Nobody was good enough for George anymore; especially, Peanutt and me.
One of George’s managers came to Linda and offered her thousands of dollars to leave George. She frankly told him she wouldn’t leave George for any amount of money; she wasn’t with him for money, and she sure wouldn’t leave him for money. He told her that they could handle George better if she was not in his life. The whole deal was that they knew Linda was my sister, and they wanted rid of Peanutt, Linda, and me. They knew I had a lot of influence on George, and they wanted him right where they had him, messed up and under their control. George had no place to run except right back to them. He became extremely paranoid. He had been told so many lies that he didn’t know who to believe, and who not to believe.
Peanutt and I had a little store in Florence where George would drop by every day or two and buy gas or just kill time. One day he stopped by, and I had a couple of ladies in the store shopping. He had been to Nashville earlier that day, and he arrived all messed up on cocaine. He had stopped by his house before he came to the store and had dressed up like an old man. He had not combed his hair and was wearing an old wide-brim felt hat with the trim around the brim hanging down around the edge of the hat. He was wearing a long, black overcoat with an expensive pair of Nudie cowboy boots. One boot was a bright orange, and the other was a bright apple green. He was carrying an old worn-out suitcase. I asked him what he was doing and he replied,
“They want me to be a bum, so here I am. I’m a bum, and I look like one don’t I?”
Of course, I had to agree with him. I knew better than to disagree with George when he was messed up and especially when he had gone to so much trouble to prove his point. I have to admit that I felt really sorry for him. George was no fool, and I knew it. He was aware of what the vultures were doing to him, but he had gotten himself in so deep that he didn’t know how to get out. As he sat there in the store talking about taking the horns off a Billy goat, one of the ladies made a comment about his boots.
“George, I really like that pair of boots,” she commented.
“You really like my boots?” George asked.
“Yeah, I think they look great,” she replied.
“Well, I tell you what. You can have this pair of boots. I have another pair just like these at home.”
The lady was all excited that George Jones was going to give her his boots. I spoke up.
“No George, you can’t give your boots away. You might have another pair just like them at home, but the pair at home are mismatched just like the boots you have on. It would be like giving away two pairs of your Nudie boots, and I can’t let you do that.”
The lady was disappointed with my input, but I knew that he would have regretted it later. George kept right on trying to pull his boots off to give them to her, so I finally told the lady she couldn’t take them even if he took them off. I explained to her that they were very expensive boots and I didn’t want her to take them from him and especially in my store. I assured her it was none of my business what he did elsewhere, but I couldn’t let it happen there. She said she understood and finally left the store.
George stayed for a little while and then asked me to close the store and come over to his house; he had something he wanted to show me. I told him I’d close and would come on over in a little while. George was still messed up when he left.
I didn’t close the store right then because I thought I had better wait on Peanutt to get there and go with me. I was a little afraid that George might be slightly unstable being in the frame of mind he was. He had been making remarks that were sarcastic, and it was hard to tell if they were meant for me or someone else.
The phone rang, and I answered it.
“Are you gonna close and come over here or not?” George asked.
“Yes, in a few minutes,” I replied.
“I want you to come right now, this can’t wait,” George demanded.
I assured him I’d come on but instead I called Billy Robertson, a friend of Peanutt’s and mine and asked him to go over to George’s and
see what was going on? I told Billy that George wanted me to come over, but I was afraid to go by myself with him all messed up.
Billy arrived at George’s house, and George invited him in. They talked for a while and then Billy left. Billy called me at the store and advised me not to go. He said that George was in bad shape, and he didn’t think it was a good idea for me to go over there alone. He said that George had a white sheet spread over his couch and a pillow at the end of the couch with an 8” x 10” picture of himself lying on the pillow. I continued trying to get in touch with Peanutt so we could go over there, but it had already gotten dark, and Peanutt was with a friend buying some recording equipment.
I was feeling a little guilty for not doing what I told George I would do, but I didn’t fully trust George and his motives like I did before he got on cocaine. There had been many times I had gone to his house alone before he got so messed up, but then I knew I could trust him. I trusted George as much as I trusted my own brother, but I was not familiar with people on cocaine. I had never been around it until George got addicted, and he was not the man I had always known. We never did know what the sheet and pillow were about.
Linda had left earlier that day. George had called her from Nashville, and she could tell he was coked to the gill, and she didn’t want to be there when he got home. She had become a little leery of him when he was messed up on that stuff. Sometimes, he would talk about people and make remarks, and you’d wonder if he was aiming it at you. With all the talk that was going on around him, you never knew what he had been told or how much of it he would believe under his circumstances. There were times when I was actually afraid of him. I knew George and knew him well, and there was nobody I would trust more than George. But, I had gotten to the point where I was afraid of the man cocaine had made of him. I witnessed him doing things and saying things that I knew beyond a shadow of doubt he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t been on cocaine. That stuff would make Satan himself come out of a person, and I didn’t trust the effects it can have on people.
The Legend of George Jones: His Life and Death Page 16