Honky Tonk Angel (23 page)

Faron spoke of the qualities that endeared him to Patsy: “Patsy had magnetism but she also had a pair of balls. Her heart was bigger than she was. She’d do anything for anyone. She’d see a girl singer and just knock her out with her supportiveness. Patsy never showed jealousy.

“When Patsy first came on the Opry, Margie Bowes, who was quite a beauty from the Virginias and later married Doyle Wilburn, was on. Patsy and me were in
the wings observing. At the end of Margie’s song, Patsy turned and exclaimed, ‘God, Sheriff, that little girl can sing!’

“Patsy was comfortable. She was never running scared. She knew the extent of her talent and figured there was room for everyone.

“She might have shocked the shit outa a few of the girl singers from small towns and religious backgrounds. One night at the Opry this new gal came to Patsy and asked, ‘What do I do about so-and-so? He keeps bothering me.’ She snapped, ‘Tell him to go fuck himself! That’ll fix him.’ Everyone thought that gal was gonna faint.

“You couldn’t get ahead of Patsy. If somebody farted in her direction, she’d raise her ass and fart right back. Didn’t make no difference to her who you were. She’d tell you to go screw yourself in a minute.”

Patsy still wasn’t happy with her earnings. In November, she and Charlie went to see Faron’s dapper, sophisticated manager, Hubert Long, who also had a booking agency, about securing top-drawer engagements for Patsy. Long had a knack for show business and changed the way promoters dealt with country stars. He demanded and received big money for his acts.

Long informed Patsy his hands were full and introduced her to his “right arm,” thirty-two-year-old Ramsey Dorris Hughes.

“Well, howdy, Dorris!” Patsy said.

“You’ve got a few names I could call you,” he snapped.

“Is that right? Why don’t you try calling me one!”

“No, ma’am. I respect you too much. But I want you to know your reputation has preceded you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Depends on who you talk to.”

“What have you heard?”

“Plenty! But you don’t look like too much to handle. And I won’t bring up any stuff if you remember all my friends call me Randy.”

“Okay, Hoss.”

“Randy’ll do fine.”

She told him of her struggles with Four-Star and that she still hadn’t seen a penny from the “Walkin’ After Midnight” royalties.

“We’ll work on some bookings, but what you need is a manager,” Randy advised.

“What’s that gonna do for me? And how could I pay him on what I’m earning?”

“You don’t pay anything unless you earn something. And you’d be earning more. You need someone who knows how the hell this town operates, someone who’ll fight for you.”

“Since you’re so almighty, get rid of that bastard Bill McCall. He’s bleeding me dry!”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

Patsy and Charlie discussed the idea with Bradley, who told them a manager couldn’t hurt. What did Patsy have to lose?