Loretta Lynn_ Coal Miner's Daughter - Loretta Lynn [44]
It was the house of John and Marshall Penn, two guys in the group called the Westerneers. They opened the door and saw Doolittle, and you could tell by their faces they were thinking, “Oh, it’s you again.” But they let us in. They had this taping equipment for a radio show they did. They asked me what song I knew. I was barely able to say the words. The only song I knew clear through was “There He Goes,” which was a big hit at the time.
The leader asked me, “In what key?”
I didn’t know what a key was and don’t hardly know now. They kept pecking at the keys until I hit one I liked. Then I took off, and they sort of took off after me. I sang the one song and went home. I sure figured, well, that’s that and good riddance.
But the next morning they was a-pecking at my door, and at seven o’clock if you can believe it, asking me if I would sing at the Grange Hall that Saturday night. The Penn brothers said they would pay me five dollars for the show, and they would use the tape on their radio show. I just couldn’t believe it! And then I got scared, real scared. Doolittle told me I was going to sing, scared or not. He told me I was stupid. That made me so mad I made up my mind to sing. I’ve often wondered if that was a psychology trick he played on me.
Saturday came around, and it was a special party at the Grange Hall. The governor of Washington was there in person. We were all supposed to dress in old clothes, like in olden times. I got a dress from a friend of mine—a long white dress that her aunt got married in. It was so old it was turning to yellow. Everybody was waiting on tables before the music began. You know how clumsy I am. Remember, like I told you, my father used to call me “that heifer” when I’d go spilling the coffee. Would you believe they actually made me pour coffee for the governor? My hands were shaking so bad I dropped the cup right at his feet. It broke into a thousand pieces. I’ve been a mess all my life. Its a wonder I’m still going.
But after the dinner came the music part. They introduced me, and I got on the stage. I turned my back to the audience, just like a lady, and bent over to get the pick for my guitar. But I tripped on the long dress and nearly fell off the stage. Oh, it was something! The governor said later it was the best part of the show. I also sang “Tennessee Waltz.” I hadn’t ever been on a stage in my life, and I’m sure I was terrible. But the Penn Brothers invited me back the next Saturday night, paying me another five dollars. I thought I was a millionaire.
There wasn’t too much call for country music in Washington in those days. You had more fans for Perry Como and Doris Day than you did for Ernest Tubb and Kitty Wells. People were kind of ashamed of country. When I’d tell people I liked country music they’d get this look on their faces. In Nashville, we’ve got this saying, “closet country,” meaning you’ve got to enjoy it in secret. That’s almost the way it was back in those days. But the Penn Brothers, with Howard Rodell as the front man, got to be popular and were invited to sing on Friday nights, too. We’d get ourselves a baby-sitter and go wherever they told us.
One time they were playing in the Club Palace in Blaine, Washington. The folks in that tavern were a real tough bunch and they had to sneak me in the back door because I didn’t look old enough to sing in a tavern. I already had four kids, but I acted like a baby; I was so bashful it was pitiful. If Doolittle didn’t keep telling me I was a stupid hillbilly, I never would of made it.
After three or four months, me and Doolittle split off from the Penn Brothers and we formed our own group, playing in Bill’s Tavern on weekends. I played rhythm guitar, which is something I always liked to do. My brother Jack was the lead man, and Roland Smiley played the steel guitar. We called him “Smiley O’Steel.” We were in the Big Time now, we thought—stage names and everything. We got this big coffee pot and painted a picture of a cat on it. That was the kitty, see? If somebody wanted a certain song, they’d drop