Honky Tonk Angel (52 page)
Authors: Ellis Nassour
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
The Reverend Nathan Williamson conducted the Winchester service and delivered the message when the service began at 3:30. Gerald Cline attended the funeral and went to Mrs. Hensley and Charlie afterward to extend his condolences. At 4:30 the pallbearers, all save one area disc jockeys—Joltin’ Jim McCoy, WHPL Radio; Moss, WRFL; Bill Alison, WINC; Dick Dovel, WFTR (Frederick); Eddie Matherly, WKCW (Warrenton); and Billy Graves, a Nashville producer—began moving with the casket toward the hearse. As the doors of the funeral home opened, a burst of excitement thundered through the throng. “There she is!” people screamed. “There’s Patsy!” The crowd surged forward, and the pallbearers couldn’t maneuver the casket. Cameras clicked, flashbulbs popped. One person, then another yelled, “Let us through. We want to see Patsy!”
It was thought that Mrs. Hensley fainted, but no one could get to her. Then, in the mass of people, she was there, being held by her daughter and son. A path opened, and the casket was hurriedly placed in the hearse. The funeral route wound some four miles from downtown to Shenandoah Memorial Park.
When Patsy’s old friends from Brunswick, Maryland, Fay and Harry Crutchley, arrived at the funeral home after being stuck in traffic for nearly two hours, they found the doors locked. They started for the memorial park, but found traffic so congested they pulled off the road a mile from the cemetery.
Jack Cummins described the funeral in the Winchester
Star:
And people who knew her, knew of her or just wanted to see the affair out of some morbid curiosity, packed the area.... Cars were lined up from the edge of the city all the way to the cemetery.... A small fortune in flowers of every description was delivered at graveside.
And before Patsy—the small-town girl who made good as the number one country music singer—was in the earth, the people who trampled and jammed the soggy cemetery field were beginning to steal sprigs of lilies and roses or other flowers.
The effect of the first stolen flower hit the crowd like an electrical shock. The people—jammed in close to the small tent over the grave—be—gan snatching, literally from the side of the grave, everything and anything they could lay their hands on, short of the gold-finished coffin.
Several women surveyed the racks of flowers and wreaths with a critical eye, and began a methodical selection of the items they wanted—as if it were dollar day at the department store.
One blondish woman, perhaps in her early forties, managed to pick several wreaths clean of decorations and plastic emblems, and even made herself a little collection of cards from the various wreaths and garlands of flowers, banked high beside the grave.
But it’s unlikely that Patsy ... would have minded. These were “her people,” her fans, the people who made her famous. One of the honorary pallbearers, speaking of the thousands of people, probably summed it up
best when he said, “It’s like a religion with them. They’re very emotional and that’s one of the reasons so many people are here.”
Those who came to see only the celebrities who were supposed to be on hand were disappointed. According to another of the honorary pallbearers, none of the people named to serve in that capacity was notified of his obligations. Consequently, he said, they apparently didn’t know they were supposed to have been there.
After the services, as the people flooded back to their parked cars like a tide rolling out ... a colossal traffic jam developed, tying up autos and trucks for miles on either side of the cemetery. Many of the onlookers appeared to have just slipped into any old clothes they could find for the trip to the cemetery. They ranged from infants to bent, wrinkled elderly men and women ...
And it seemed nearly everyone at the cemetery had a camera of one kind or another—movie cameras, expensive 35 millimeter models, and $5 box types. Occasionally, while a solemn-faced pastor intoned the words of ritual over the casket, the crisp buzz of a movie camera could be heard in the hushed mob.
Several hundred yards away, on the side of a big white barn, a photographer had perched himself halfway up, apparently by scaling the side of the wall. At a restaurant a few hundred yards north of the cemetery the proprietor, in white apron, was surveying his driveway, packed with cars of onlookers. In exasperation he called to a state policeman to “Try and do something about getting my driveway cleaned out.”
When it was over—about an hour later—the highways were still jammed for hours. A squad of state policemen was sent to important intersections and remained there, directing the crush of cars through the early evening.
But apparently the drivers and their passengers didn’t mind too much—they had seen what they wanted.
Patsy got a funeral worthy of royalty.
On his 1972 broadcast, Sammy Moss stated: “The last resting place for the late, great Patsy Cline is Shenandoah Memorial Park just a few miles from Winchester, Virginia. Any time you’re in the area, stop by! Tributes have been paid by many of Patsy Cline’s followers, but the place and the name will remain forever. Remember it’s Patsy Cline, Shenandoah Memorial Park, Winchester, Virginia!”
Someone said that time heals sorrow
But I can’t help but dread tomorrow,
When I miss you more today than yesterday . . .
36
The letter dated March 6, 1963, and received by the Country Music Association on
March 13 from Shaun Gooderham of Middlesex, England, was a typical fan reaction to the cataclysmic events of the preceding week.
I have just learned of the death of Miss Patsy Cline, Cowboy Copas, and Hawkshaw Hawkins, a great and tragic shock to all.
Each of these truly great artists have made their mark on the music scene, and they will be sorely missed by every “country fan.”
Miss Cline seemed fated from the start. It is such a pity that after her motor accident this should happen, just when deserved success was coming her way. She had so much to live for.
Cowboy Copas, perhaps the best known, was a veteran in the true country style. He will be missed most of all, I think. Hawkshaw Hawkins in my opinion was the best singer of country ballads next to Hank Williams. He had a voice of amazing depth, quality and realism which could sing a country song better than anyone else.
That this terrible tragedy should happen just now, when country music had a real hold on the music world is a blow from which, if it wasn’t country music, it would perhaps never recover.... Let everyone know that they will be missed just as much in Britain as in America.
Finally may I say how sorry I am for the relatives. The hearts of many people go out to them I am sure. One thing, they have the satisfaction of knowing their loved ones died for a cause, “Country Music.” They lived and died country music. To them country music came first, and it was there at the last.
May God always keep their memory alive.
Immediately after the accident, Billy Walker told the Nashville
Banner
, “God was on my side. Else how can you explain my being here and Patsy, Copas, Hawk, and Randy gone? No, I was not scheduled to ride the plane. Actually there wasn’t enough room for me in the four-seater. So I went out and back on a commercial flight”
There was nothing said about his dad having a heart attack, or Walker calling Hawkins and asking him to let him have his plane ticket—thus putting Hawkins on the plane in his place.
Walker set the record straight. “For a long time, I was in a deep depression because I thought I was partially responsible for what happened since I had encouraged everyone to come to Kansas City to help the Call family. The benefit cost Patsy, Cowboy, Hawk, and Randy their lives.
“I realize there was no way I could have foreseen any of what happened. That didn’t help me then, however. I was thankful I was alive, but, of course, I certainly had guilt feelings. They were gone, I was still here. Cowboy was a dear friend, and I had gone a long way back with Hawk. And Randy and Patsy were like family. He was like a brother to me and, gosh, I just adored Patsy more and more the longer I was around her. I had a terrible time coping with my feelings and couldn’t talk about it I know now it just wasn’t in God’s plan for me.”
One thing soon became quite clear. If everyone who said, and many continue to, that they were asked by Patsy to go on the Kansas City benefit in that Comanche had in fact gone, Randy would have to have taken a cargo plane to get them all there.
Hap Peebles and Tex Ritter led a moving tribute on Sunday, March 17, at the Kansas City Memorial Auditorium. Peebles spoke of the good deed Patsy, Hawkins, Copas, and Randy Hughes performed. Ritter sang “Hillbilly Heaven,” mentioning the deceased stars by name.
Vocally, Patsy had majesty and poignancy. She could segue from yodels to sweeping high notes, from hoedown to Irving Berlin, and from Cole Porter to rock ‘n’ roll.
At the twelfth annual Country Music Festival in November 1963, Patsy was selected
Billboard’
s Favorite Female Country Artist. For a second time,
Cashbox
magazine honored her as Most Programmed Female Vocalist. In quite an emotional moment, Julie accepted the award.
Faron Young observed, “Patsy had power and sincerity. Had it not been for her, there wouldn’t have been opportunities for girl singers. Her driving ambition was to be a star, then a bigger star. She would have declared no quarter. Patsy’d be hotter than Hades, a giant. Patsy had it and would’ve continued to have it. No other singer could put a damn niche in her ass!”
Noting the scarring after Patsy’s automobile accident, he said that “Max Factor was doing a job on her” and that she planned to have dental work.
Lightnin’ Chance boasted, “Patsy had charisma. She was like Red Foley when he did the gospel hymns and Hank Williams with his heart broken and bleeding. Patsy was at her finest when she sang the ‘you-done-me-wrong-dang-you’ type tunes. She was telling her story and the story of the ladies in her audience. She was damning those men for doing her and those ladies dirty.”
Loretta Lynn spoke of her friend: “Patsy was probably the first country female who dared to speak what she felt, the first to be different. No one has come close to singing as she did. Patsy was twenty-five years ahead of her time.”
Former Winchester WINC Radio manager Philip Whitney pointed out, “Patsy was part of her music, in it all the way. The music was her life, and that’s the way she lived it.”
While during her life many had mocked Patsy’s innovations and brassiness, and the fact that she was “going pop,” after her death she was immediately canonized. Suddenly, crossover wasn’t so bad if it meant record sales like Patsy’s.
“There was even a campaign to develop another Patsy,” stated Charlie. “Decca had loads of gals who tried to imitate her. They were standing in the wings! None came close to touching Patsy.”
Even Charlie would attempt to find another Patsy.
In spite of impressive sales, Patsy never achieved Gold Record status. The Recording Industry Association of American (RIAA) seldom recognized Nashville artists, but in Patsy’s case, Decca may have been at fault. As opposed to its Universal Pictures and pop music divisions, the company considered the country division a stepchild. Patsy’s sales audits were never submitted.
“Gold Records were unheard of in country then,” noted Charlie. “Only Patsy Montana had one. But if anybody had bothered to check, Kitty Wells would’ve received one for ‘It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels,’ and Patsy would have been awarded them on the strength of ‘Walking’ After Midnight,’ ‘I Fall to Pieces,’ and ‘Crazy.’”
He’s probably not referring to LPs. The bulk of Patsy’s sales were 45s and EPs with four tracks in a photo sleeve.
