Loretta Lynn_ Coal Miner's Daughter - Loretta Lynn [51]
The Johnsons understand my moods, but it’s hard to explain to somebody who’s driven 500 miles to see you that you’re tired and you’ve got company and you can’t squeeze anyone else around the kitchen table. Other times I’ll be on the road somewhere and someone’ll say they’ve been waiting five years to see me. Last year I was feeling sick until I saw this old man, about eighty, near my bus. All I could think about was sleeping in my bus when his daughter said he was going to die soon, but he wanted to meet me first. I gave him a hug and signed an autograph, and he said, “Take me home, boys, I’m ready to die now.” I got back in the bus and told my boys, “Boys, I ain’t sick. I just learned what courage is.”
I don’t care what anyone says, it helps an artist to know that people love you. When I hear people cheering for my hit songs, even though I’ve sung them a thousand times, I want to put everything I have into the songs. I know that sometimes we goof off, just play for ourselves, but those fans have saved up their money and you’ve got to give them your very best.
There are some things you can’t do for the fans. For one thing, I can’t have all of them on the bus because the insurance company won’t allow it. But the fans don’t understand that. They get this hurt look if you don’t come out and sign an autograph. Maybe there’s a poor gal who’s driven a hundred miles and she doesn’t have a ticket for my show; all she wants to do is to give me a little sewing kit as a present or something. And I’m too tired to get off my couch. It happens. I’ve done it. And it breaks my heart. But there has got to be a limit sometimes. These are things I learned the hard way. When I started out in show business, I didn’t know what to expect. The next chapter may give you some idea of how much I had to learn.
15
The Education of a Country Singer
The women all look at you like you’re bad,
The men all hope you are.
But if you go too far, you’re gonna wear the star,
Of a woman that’s rated ‘X’ …
—“Rated ‘X’,” by Loretta Lynn
It’s a good thing I had my husband and the Johnson girls because I never would have survived without them. I wasn’t innocent like when I got married. Me and Doo had enough problems by then, so I knew that men and women didn’t always get along. But now I was out every night in these clubs, and I couldn’t believe what I saw.
One time out in Colorado, just after I met the Johnsons, I got a call to my motel room from a man who asked me if I would like to make some money. I said, “Oh, yeah!” I was thinking I could go home and show Doo I made some money on my own. What did the man want me to sing? In this little sneaky voice, he says, “Forget about the singing; there’s a bunch of guys who want to be entertained.”
I didn’t know much, so I yelled across the room to the Johnson girls, “Hey, there’s this guy on the phone, and he wants me to entertain ’em, but he don’t want me to sing. What’s he want me to do?” Loudilla took the phone from my hand and hung it up real hard. Then she slowly explained to me what he wanted. All I could say was, “Is that right?”
But it wasn’t just telephone calls. I’d get offers right in the clubs. I’d be up on the stage singing, and guys would be writing their room numbers on slips of paper or asking me to have a drink with ’em after the show. I didn’t have a wedding ring, and besides, people told me men liked your singing better if they didn’t know you were married. Later I started wearing a ring, but that didn’t slow ’em down any.
Another time we were working a club in Chicago for twenty-five dollars a night. It was the roughest place I ever worked. They had no stage, just this poor little two-man band, and you had to stand up on the bar to sing. Fortunately, Doo was traveling with me. He came into the bar and saw what was happening, and he grabbed one guy and walked him outside. I hope Doo didn’t hurt him.
At first, I had to work clubs to sell for the