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Page 1 of 2  Do you ever stumble across a news bite that immediately sends you back in time? What about the possibility of cancer taking somebody who you thought would always be here?
This morning over coffee, I found this headline buried on Page 23B in the newspaper: “Wagoner Has Lung Cancer.” Today, Porter Wagoner—a pioneer in country music—is hospitalized in Nashville in serious condition. Dolly Parton—the buxom country singer who he plucked out of the East Tennessee hills in the mid-1960s to become his duet partner en route to her phenomenal career—even visited him the other day.
Many musicphiles don’t realize that when pop singer Whitney Houston belts out “I Will Always Love You,” that Dolly had written it some years before to honor her mentor, Porter. In the midst of my memories this morning, I cursed cancer with a string of profanities that would have made my momma—God rest her soul—blush the same shades as Porter’s multi-hued rhinestones on his suits. Cancer, you probably will take another one. Damn you! Somebody who I thought “would always be here.” Memories of Porter This morning, the headline transported me back—Whoosh!— to the early 1960s when my father and I, both of whom grew up in Kentucky on a fattening diet of cornbread, country twang and bluegrass, would huddle around the TV on Saturday afternoons for two hours of syndicated country music shows out of Nashville. First, a generic “Grand Ole Opry” show with stars of the long-running radio program, followed by the Wilburn Brothers, Ernest Tubb, and then my two favorite acts: Flatt & Scruggs, and Porter Wagoner. That night, in my bedroom in Louisville, my father and I would listen to the Opry. Porter always appeared on the 9 p.m. portion of the Opry, at least when he wasn’t on the road entertaining his then-legions of fans. I even saw Porter headline a packed state-fair concert, where his gawdy, mustard-colored rhinestone suit would all but blind you for life. Porter, an RV and me Woosh! I’m sitting in an RV in Honea Path, S.C., in the early 1980s, interviewing Porter, right after his concert at the tiny town’s Honey Sop Festival. In my newspaper career, I’ve interviewed plenty of famous people, and Porter is right at the top of the Nice List. We talked for two hours. He smiled broadly as I sang the lyrics to his first song, “Trademark,” from 1953: "A little bit-a croonin', a little bit-a spoonin'
A little bit-a swoonin' and a lotta honeymoonin'
Now that's my trademark . . . oh, that's my trademark . . ."
Porter's face lit up like the rhinestone suit on the hanger over his right shoulder. “Gosh, padnah, I didn’t know nobody remembered that song these days,” he cracked, growing even more amazed when I replied I even had the sheet music. Porter, Susie, me and insomnia Woosh! I’m laying in bed at 3 in the morning, wondering why cheerleader Susie had earlier that day gleefully rattled off 50 excuses for not wanting to accompany me to the big ninth-grade dance. Her metaphorical kick in the gonads brought on terrible insomnia. As my radio played, Porter’s “Carroll County Accident” filtered through the room at least five different times that night. I hate that freekin’ song! It ranks right up there on my Hate List, just behind “Please Daddy, Don’t Get Drunk this Christmas” by John Denver, Conway Twitty’s “You’ve Never Been This Far Before,” Hank Williams’ “My Son Calls Another Man Daddy,” anything by Glen Campbell, the Stones’ “Angie,” and Clapton's "Layla." Cancer, I hate you. I hope I live long enough to see you eradicated for all time. You’ve taken my prostate, you took my grandfather before I could meet him, you damn near took my mother, and now you’ll likely take good ol’ Porter, as we called him back in Kentucky. Why do I have the urge to write a country song right now? What about "Susie and The Headline on Page 23B?"
Cancer Connection Trivia: Name the singer who Dolly replaced on "The Porter Wagoner Show."
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