Even though I would have never imagined myself on some of the stages I’ve been playing since the mid-1990s, I just absolutely love it. I believe God has given me two deep desires, and He’s provided me with the opportunity to fuel them both. First, I love to rock ’n’ roll. It’s great to get on the stage, feel those drums pounding behind me, and get the audience on their feet. Second, He gave me the desire—and also the courage—to talk about my faith onstage, whether I’m at a church revival or a punk rock club.
Everybody knows the chorus to “I Saw The Light” by Hank Williams. To this day, when I play it for my country audience or the rockabilly crowd, it always goes over well. I like to play that song and give my testimony onstage. It’s hard for me not to say more than I do. Here’s all these beautiful young people in front of me and I want them to want what I have. I want them to experience the peace and healing that only God can provide. A hush comes over the crowd when I mention that I gave my heart and life to Jesus Christ. In all the years I’ve been talking about my faith in my secular shows, I’ve had very few problems with people marking smart remarks or heckling me. Every once in a while, I’ll have a drunk girl sarcastically yell out “hallelujah” or something. Some guys have mouthed off a little bit, but the audience will shush them for me, so I don’t have to say anything. Now my fans know I’m going to share from my heart, and they don’t seem to mind. They listen. As long as I can hold them, I’m going to talk about it. I think my fans respect me, but I also try to be cool and respect them by not talking too long.
The only time I had any problems with sharing my faith onstage was at a big show at the Wimbledon Coliseum in London. The promoter, Mervin Khan, wrote a letter to Wendell afterward saying they’d like to have me back the following year for another show, but I’d have to agree not to make contact with the audience by way of “preaching.” I guess I was kind of lengthy that first time! We went back the next year and I said, “I’ve given my heart and life to Jesus, so this next song I’d like to dedicate to Jesus Christ.” I told Mervin, “That was just a song dedication. That’s not preaching!”
By the time I returned to secular music, the country genre had gotten so big and so popular that people didn’t turn their radios down anymore when someone came to their door or pulled up next to their car. It had become respectable, and nobody was embarrassed to be a country fan anymore. I struggled with feeling some resentment that I didn’t get to experience that kind of mass popularity in my heyday. I didn’t have the elaborate staging and the top-notch pickers to comprise an unbelievable band. I didn’t get to enjoy the better microphones and the great monitors that gave new artists better sound than I could have ever dreamed possible. I didn’t have the big light rigs and all that kind of thing in the little dives where I worked in the 1950s and ’60s. I was a little resentful that I didn’t have the opportunity that was enjoyed by the girls for whom I paved the way. They started getting advertisements and sponsorships as the face of Revlon or the creator of their own perfume line. I was longing for that, but it never happened. But it was okay. I had carved my own path and I was proud of my accomplishments.
Chapter 24
One of the many great bands I’ve worked with in Germany.
WHOLE LOTTA SHAKIN’ GOIN’ ON
In the summer of 2003 I cut my first real rockabilly album recorded in the US in decades. Called Heart Trouble, it was released by CMH Records, which specializes in bluegrass. Initially, the idea was to do a bluegrass project, which I was really excited about. I love bluegrass, but somewhere along the way the plan morphed into something completely different.
We were going to make the record in North Hollywood, California. When word got out around town that I was going to be recording, the label started getting calls from various people who wanted to be involved. Dave Alvin wanted to play guitar. Lee Rocker, from The Stray Cats, wanted to be part of it. Rosie Flores signed on, as did The Cramps and a band called The Cadillac Angels. James Intveld wrote a song for the album and ended up recording with us, too. Before long, the bluegrass concept was abandoned and CMH decided to go a different direction. I might have been a grandma, but it was time to rock again!
One of the things I really enjoyed about recording Heart Trouble was that we thoroughly rehearsed before we began recording. Boy, that’s something that never used to happen back when I was making records in the ’50s and ’60s. You would just go in, the musicians would come up with arrangements on the fly, and everything would be done very quickly. We look back now on recordings from those days as a lasting document of an artist at a particular time, but, truth be told, we didn’t put as much weight on recordings then. A record was just something to help you get more live gigs. We didn’t overthink it, and we never imagined that anyone would still be listening to those recordings in a year—much less fifty years down the road! Today, the process is approached much differently, and it was fun for me to take some time thinking about the arrangements and building rapport with the musicians. There’s value in both approaches, but I was glad to try the new way of doing things.
We were rehearsing one afternoon when Elvis Costello’s drummer, Pete Thomas, stopped by. He said, “Wanda, Elvis plays the DVD of your Town Hall Party performances on our tour bus all the time. That’s what gets him in the mood to perform a show. Would you like to have him do something with you on the album?”
As I mentioned, Wendell had been jealous about my relationship with Elvis Presley when we first married. He laughed when he heard Pete’s question and said, “Well, that’s all the hell I need is another Elvis in my life!” He was joking, of course, as he had grown to love my Elvis Presley stories, and we both had great respect for Elvis Costello. I told Pete we’d jump at the opportunity to work with Elvis.
When Pete mentioned it to Elvis, he said he definitely wanted to do it, but he didn’t just want to add a vocal part at a different studio later on, which is pretty common for duet performances. He said he wanted to record with me in person. He brought his own band and we did Buck Owens’s “Crying Time” together. We had so much fun, and I really liked him immediately.
Elvis invited us to come out to watch the taping of an episode of the TV show Frazier, which he was going to be on. We decided to go, and were in the audience when Elvis spotted us after the rehearsal of one of the scenes. He said, “Wanda! I’ve got to show you something!” He ran to his dressing room and came back with two of my albums. He said, “I found these just the other day! Will you sign them?” Even though he’s a big star, Elvis is still a music fan with the enthusiasm of a teenager. I have a lot of respect for the way he uses his platform to celebrate other artists. In fact, I doubt I would have made it into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame if it weren’t for Elvis Costello.
Wendell had been saying for years he couldn’t believe I wasn’t in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I told him I didn’t expect to be because I never had a string of hits. He would always say, “Yes, but you were the first female rock singer. You were the pioneer, and you deserve to be in.” Wendell took it upon himself to begin writing the nominating committee every year. For three or four years he’d send a packet to them summarizing my career and demonstrating why he thought I should be inducted. I was charmed by the way Wendell championed me so tirelessly, but I was also a little embarrassed. I didn’t think they’d be interested and I didn’t want Wendell to be disappointed.
Through Wendell’s efforts we got to know Terry Stewart, who was the President of the Hall of Fame for several years. He was a big fan of mine and was always very nice to us. When Elvis Costello found out I wasn’t in the Rock Hall, he couldn’t believe it. In May of 2005, he wrote them the most wonderful letter:
To Whom It May Concern:
This is to propose that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame finally nominates Wanda Jackson for induction. For heaven’s sake, the whole thing risks ridicule and having the appearance of being a little boy’s club unless it acknowledges the contribution of one of the first women of rock and roll.
It might be hard to admit, but the musical influence of several male pioneers is somewhat obscure today. Even though their records will always be thrilling, their sound is not really heard in echo.
Look around today and you can hear lots of rocking girl singers who owe an unconscious debt to the mere idea of a woman like Wanda. She was standing up on stage with a guitar in her hands and making a sound that was as wild and raw as any rocker, man or woman, while other gals were still asking, “How much is that doggy in the window?” …
It is strange to find myself a member [of] the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame while there seem still [sic] be a number of notable absentees. I’d like to be able to send the museum some old guitar that I played in ’77, with a good heart and clear conscience. Right now I’d be embarrassed to see it on display in a glass case in Cleveland while Wanda is still rocking and still missing from the Hall …
Come on you guys. DO THE RIGHT THING … HELP INDUCT WANDA …
Yours through music,
Elvis Costello
When Terry saw the letter he said, “Wendell, that’s the best thing you can do. Get the people who are already in the Hall of Fame to advocate on Wanda’s behalf.” In December of 2006 Bruce Springsteen and his wife, Patti, came to see me play a show at the Asbury Lanes in New Jersey. The manager came to the dressing room before I went on.
“Wanda, Patti and Bruce Springsteen are here. Would it be all right if they came back and said ‘hi’ to you?”
I thought he was joking. I said, “Yeah, sure, send ’em on back. When the president gets here, he can come, too!” But he wasn’t kidding. After I met them they spent the night out in the audience dancing and singing along with all the other fans, which completely blew me away. Bruce was another person who, like Elvis, spoke up for me and advocated for my induction into the Hall.
Finally, in 2009, I was inducted in the “Early Influences” category. I was thrilled by the honor, but I was even more thrilled that all the hard work had paid off for Wendell and so many of my fans who had lobbied the nominating committee for several years. Wendell found out on a Friday afternoon when Terry called him to deliver the good news. He held the secret in until Sunday when he could invite the whole family over under the guise of watching a football game together. Wendell’s brother and his wife were there, and Gina and Greg were both there with their families. I was just enjoying having my kids and grandkids all together. I never imagined anything more was going on.
At halftime Wendell said, “Let’s all go into the living room.” When I walked in there were a couple of bottles of champagne that had been poured into glasses.
“Wendell, what in the world is all this?” I asked.
“Everybody grab a glass,” he said. “I’d like to raise a toast to the newest member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!”
At that moment my granddaughter walked in with a dozen long-stemmed Sonia roses, which are my favorite. The whole family began applauding. My kids were crying and I was crying. I just couldn’t grasp it. I thought about all those years, all the long miles on the road, all the triumphs and disappointments, and I thought about Daddy. I wished he could have been there to see the result of what we’d started building together the day he called up Bob Neal in 1955 and arranged to have me play my first show with Elvis. The whole experience was completely overwhelming.
The Hall of Fame asked me to agree on a presenter who would make a speech about my career at the ceremony. I suggested Elvis Costello, but he couldn’t do it because he was out on the road and unavailable. The staff at the Hall suggested Roseanne Cash. I didn’t think that would necessarily be so great, but it’s who they chose, so I went with it. I should have trusted their instincts from the outset. Roseanne called me a couple of times and asked me some questions, like what I most wanted people to know about me. I said, “Number one, I can rock! Number two, I was a lady, and reputations are important, and number three, rock and roll and God are not mutually exclusive!”
When the night of the event came, she gave a wonderful speech. She has a way with words, just like her dad. She was funny and charming, and hit all the right points. She said, “For girls with guitars, myself included, Wanda was the beginning of rock and roll…. Every young woman I know, musician or otherwise, worships her as the prototype—the first female rock star…. She’s vibrant and edgy without being abrasive, and sweet without being saccharine. This is a woman who has rhythm and joy, in equal parts, to the depth of her soul…. She’s not a red-carpet-celebrity-hang-out-rehab-tabloid kind of person. She’s a person of strong religious conviction, deep integrity, a road warrior, and a rock and roll queen…. You are, as Wendell always introduces you, the First Lady of Rock and Roll and the Queen of Rockabilly. And now a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.”
I can’t say enough about what an excellent job Roseanne did. I was deeply touched. After I gave my acceptance speech I played a couple of songs with the house band. Paul Shaffer from David Letterman’s TV show was the band leader, and he was having a ball. He already knew “Let’s Have a Party,” so I didn’t even have to teach it to him. We played that and “Mean Mean Man.” Scotty Moore and DJ Fontana, who played with Elvis in the ’50s, were at our table, and it was so cool to be up on that stage playing the kind of music Elvis encouraged me to embrace, while my old buddies were cheering me on.
At the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony, I played my pink Daisy Rock guitar, which has replaced my old Martin guitars in recent years. The company was founded by Tish Ciravolo, who was inspired to create guitars that would be appealing to young girls and help encourage them to get into playing music. I met Tish in California around the same time I did the Heart Trouble album, and that’s where I got her business card. Daisy Rock ended up sponsoring me and I became an ambassador for the company. I had a little thing I’d do on stage, where I’d say, “You see my pretty pink guitar? Well, it’s just great for girls. It’s a little bit smaller and lighter, and it’s cut down in just the right spot! Dolly Parton will love this!” Invariably, girls would ask me, “Is it really cut down differently?” I’d tell ’em that it’s not really, but it makes a good story. Tish said when she saw me playing that guitar at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame she was so proud that she started crying. I just hope her guitars equip an army of future girl rockers!
My first guitar, the Martin D-18, was stored up in my parents’ attic for several years. About the worst thing you can do with a guitar is leave it in a hot attic. Of course, it got damaged and warped by the intense heat and humidity, but Wendell had it repaired, and we donated it to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame so fans can see it on display when they tour the facility in Cleveland.
It’s funny, but when people started talking about what an important pioneer I was, I thought, Really? First I’ve heard of it! I hadn’t really thought of myself in those terms until these various honors and awards began happening. I received a National Heritage Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts in Washington, D.C. I was inducted into the Oklahoma Hall of Fame, the Oklahoma Country Music Hall of Fame, the International Gospel Hall of Fame, and the Rockabilly Hall of Fame. It’s always such an honor to be recognized for my contributions, but there’s just one piece missing from the puzzle.
I have nothing in the world to complain about, but I’ve always wished I was in the Country Music Hall of Fame, too. Country was where I started, and I had far more commercial success—nearly thirty charting singles—in that genre than I ever did in rock or gospel. It’s commonplace for a female singer to have a sexy image in country music today—heck, all of ’em have that image!—but I was the first one to do it. I broke that ground and set the template for the girls who came along after. I made it okay for the gals to put a little rock and a little glamour in their country music. Perhaps, when the time is right, I’ll be recognized in that way. If it doesn’t happen, that’s all right, too. I’ve already had more accolades thrown at me than any one person could ever deserve. But I won�
�t say I don’t think about it! That’s just human nature, isn’t it?
Chapter 25
With my buddy, Jack White.
THUNDER ON THE MOUNTAIN
After my disastrous experience at the Grand Ole Opry in 1955, I vowed I would never go back again. But you can’t stay mad forever. In January of 2011, I finally returned to the Opry stage for the first time in 56 years. The show had moved from the Ryman Auditorium to a much larger venue on the outskirts of Nashville in the mid-1970s, but in recent years they’ve started going back to the Ryman in the winter months when there are fewer tourists in town. Since it was the off-season, I got to return to the exact stage where I’d been before. This time it was a wonderful experience. I even wore a white fringed blouse with long sleeves, so the ghost of Ernest Tubb wouldn’t have to worry about seeing my shoulders. It’s not that I learned my lesson, it’s just that old age got me! I always say that neck lines go up when you’re a little girl, come down when you’re a teenager, and go right back up if you become a gospel singer. Now I can wear whatever I want, but you have to ask yourself what looks best for where you are in life.
The man who coaxed me back to the Opry stage was singer, guitarist, and producer Jack White. I had just finished recording my fortieth studio album, The Party Ain’t Over, with Jack, and he suggested we go to the Opry with the band he put together for our tour. It was actually the first time he and I performed together publicly, and I’ll never forget what a great evening it was.
When we were onstage Jack told the audience the story of what had happened to me the last time I was at the Opry. He went into details about how I got in trouble for wearing something too revealing and how I’d been sent back to my dressing room to cover up. He changed the last part of the story and said I finally came strutting out onstage naked, and that’s the day that country music embraced the “Nudie suit.” I didn’t know he was going to say that, but I thought it was pretty funny. The audience whooped and hollered and got a big kick out of it.
Every Night Is Saturday Night Page 24