Honky Tonk Angel (15 page)

On Friday night, January 4, Patsy sang in Berryville and spent the night at Charlie’s house. Mrs. Dick didn’t know to wake Patsy. When Patsy woke and saw she was late for “Jamboree” rehearsals, she and Charlie ran down the street to Grayson’s Grocery since the Dicks had no phone. Patsy called the Arena and asked for Dean. “Jimmy, I’m awfully sorry,” witnesses at the store reported Patsy as saying. “I had to work real late last night and I just got up. The alarm didn’t go off. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m leaving right now—”

“Hold on a minute, girl!” Dean yelled. “You can go right back to sleep. Don’t
bother to come, you hear? If you can’t make it on time for rehearsals, there’s no need to come for the show, because there won’t be a spot for you.”

“What do you mean, Jimmy?”

“I mean, consider yourself fired!”

Patsy turned white and seemed to be in a state of shock. She turned to Charlie and moaned, “Jimmy just fired me. I can’t believe it. Jimmy just fired me!”

On the telecast, Dean didn’t mention Patsy by name, but got his digs in. “People on the way up should be especially nice to those they pass, because they might need them when they come tumbling down. I’d like to dedicate this song to a girl you all used to see a lot of.” Dean sang “Pick Me Up on Your Way Down,” which Patsy had just recorded and which Bill McCall had tried to get him to record while he was on Four-Star. At the end, Dean waxed, “On my way up, I’ll pass you on your way down.”

At least Patsy had “Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts” on the horizon. She went to the Cline apartment in Frederick to gather clothes and belongings for her trip to New York. She later described her meeting with Gerald to her friend, country singer Pearl Butler.

Gerald, in T-shirt and boxer shorts, was watching TV and eating a TV dinner when she arrived.

“Look who’s here!” he snapped, quite surprised to see Patsy.

“Good news, Gerald!”

“You moving back? Your mother kick you out?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the occasion? Need a change of clothes?”

“I’m picking up some things. It’s happened. I’m going on ‘Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts’!”

Gerald grew red-faced and flushed with anger. “Seems if I want to see you, I have to look at TV! You just won’t face it, will you? You’re wasting your time.”

“Why’s everyone always trying to hold me down? Dammit, Gerald, look what I’ve accomplished! This is the break I’ve prayed for.”

“You ain’t sold a nickel’s worth of records. Country music ain’t got no place for a woman. And I’m sick and tired of what’s going on behind my back! You played Bill along and now you’re playing me along. Why don’t you come home and stop running around with every Tom, Dick—”

“If you’re talking about Charlie, don’t hand me your pious bullshit!”

Gerald became furious and, according to Patsy, went to slap her.

“Don’t you dare!” she warned him. “What the hell’s got you so upset? Please don’t try and make me feel sorry for you, Gerald. How can you stand there and throw stones when you’ve been seen with another woman?”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you’d been where you belong. This ain’t right! I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. The business is going down. I want a wife!”

“It’s too late for that, Gerald. This marriage’s been like a bad dream with no tunes in it.”

“But, Patsy, honey!”

Gerald broke down and cried. Patsy gathered her things for the trip to New York. The world was waiting and Patsy Cline was ready.

T
he day before Patsy and her talent scout left Winchester for New York City, she called Donn Hecht in Los Angeles.

“Can you believe it?” she said. “It’s finally happening. God! Arthur Godfrey! New York! Donn, that town scares me to death.”

“It’s just another town with a few more people,” he replied. “You’ll do fine.”

“It’s all those people I’m worried about.”

“People are alike the world over.”

“Maybe, but New York people aren’t like country folks. They dare to make you like them.”

Patsy and Mrs. Hensley arrived at LaGuardia Airport on Friday afternoon, January 18,1957. They took the airport bus into Manhattan, to the hotel where Patsy had stayed with Bill Peer. Patsy contacted Al Gallico, general manager of Shapiro & Bernstein Music Company. It was their “A Poor Man’s Roses (or a Rich Man’s Gold)” that Patsy had picked as “her song” in her deal with McCall, and Gallico had paid Mrs. Hensley’s airfare.
⁹

“Hello, Al. We’re here!”

“Hey, Patsy, where the hell are you staying? I’ve called every hotel in town and I couldn’t find you registered.”

“You didn’t call the Dixie.”

“That dump? I know Godfrey’s cheap, not sending you a ticket for your mother, but not that cheap! You shouldn’t be there. It’s not for you.”

“It’s very nice, Al. I like it It’s my kind of people. And, furthermore, it’s only thirteen dollars a night.”

Gallico picked up the Hensleys and took them on a guided tour. They didn’t make a long night of it, since Patsy had shopping to do the next day.

The Monday, January 21, 1957,
Winchester Star
carried an article headlined PATSY CLINE SINGS ON GODFREY SHOW:

Early Monday morning, Patsy went to the CBS studio and met with Janette Davis. They went through the sheet music McCall and Gallico had given Patsy.

“Do you have anything else, Patsy?” Davis asked.

“That’s about it. There’re over thirty songs there.”

“Your voice has such a wide appeal. You’re not just another hillbilly singer.”

“What’s wrong with being hillbilly?”

“Oh, my goodness, nothing. But look at it this way, you’ve got the potential to reach a far vaster audience.”

Davis introduced Patsy to music director and conductor Bert Farber. Patsy was telling him all about the western outfit her mother made for her to wear on the show. As they looked at material, Patsy would say, “That’s country. I can sing that” or “That’s not country. I can’t do it.”

“Patsy,” Davis interrupted, “what makes you special is the magic your voice weaves. It’s really unique. We need a song to match that quality. Bert, we’ve got to find the right song for her to sing.” They settled on “A Poor Man’s Roses (or a Rich Man’s Gold).”

Davis, still not satisfied, asked, “Is there anything else in the portfolio I haven’t seen?”

Patsy threw her arms into the air. “Okay. Okay. There’s just one more.” She showed Davis “Walkin’ After Midnight.”

“Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere,” Janette said. “Why were you hiding this one? It’s wonderful. The blues sound fits your voice and style perfectly.”

“Let’s go with ‘A Poor Man’s Roses.’”

“‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ would be much better, I think.”

“You’ll get me in trouble.”

“Trouble? How?”

“It’s Decca policy not to allow their artists to publicly perform a song before it’s released.”

“But ‘A Poor Man’s Roses’ isn’t out yet.”

“Then let’s not do either one.”

“You’re talking about a technicality. We can easily get around that. Now sing this for me, Patsy.”

She complied reluctantly. When she finished, Davis requested, “Now sing it again as if you meant it.” Patsy sang it again. “That’s it! That’s the one you’ve got to do on the show.”

“I hate it because it makes me feel like a prostitute!”

“Patsy, you have a vivid imagination. It’s fine. You did it beautifully.”

“It’s nothing but a little ole pop song.”

“Maybe so, young lady, but it just might make you famous.”

On her break, Patsy called Hecht. “Guess what they want me to sing?”

“‘Walkin’ After Midnight’?”

“What else?”

“Wow! That’s fantastic!”

“For you, but not for me.”

“Come on, Patsy.”

“Okay, I give up. I surrender! It’s four against one now.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s Owen, Bill McCall, you, and now Janette Davis. First thing I’m going to do when I get back to Nashville is record that song again!”

“Why?”

“Because I like it. I really like it now! And we’re going to win with it.”

Patsy arrived for the run-through that afternoon in her finest cowgirl attire, which sent Davis into a tailspin.

“You can’t wear that outfit and sing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’!”

“I don’t know why not!” Patsy rebuffed her.

“You just can’t! And that’s final.”

Davis took Patsy to wardrobe and personally selected a cocktail dress for her to wear.

“I’ll be on top of you every step of the way, Patsy. Don’t pull any fast ones and change into Dale Evans!”

She marched her to the orchestra rehearsal and told Mrs. Hensley what she would do.

“Where’s Mr. Godfrey?” Patsy wanted to know.

“Mr. Godfrey never comes to rehearsals. We use a stand-in. He never meets the performers before going on the air.”

As the 8:30 P.M. airtime approached, Patsy and Mrs. Hensley became nervous wrecks.

“We were worried whether our little play-acting was working,” revealed Mrs. Hensley. “Oh, my, it nearly killed me, having to keep quiet. And I felt a bit guilty about being deceptive—or only telling half the truth. Whenever Patsy would want to speak to me, she’d call out, ‘Oh, where’s that nice Mrs. Hensley? You know, my talent scout’ And I’d look to see who she was referring to! I wasn’t used to Patsy calling me anything but ‘Mama.’ I must have looked awfully suspicious!”

The theater filled with people and the show began. About 8:15 Davis called Patsy and Mrs. Hensley onto the stage and positioned them for Godfrey’s introduction. Then the lights hit them. Mrs. Hensley joined Godfrey at his desk and told all about her “find” from Winchester, Virginia. Godfrey said he was a Virginian
and mighty proud of anyone from that state. Then he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Patsy Cline.”

As the orchestra began, Mrs. Hensley moved offstage to watch Patsy on a TV monitor. She was wringing her hands. “What happened was just unbelievable. Patsy sang her heart out for over two minutes. Then there was an eternity of applause.”

“Patsy cried,” Mrs. Hensley remembered, “and I cried. I wanted to run out and throw my arms around her, but I knew I couldn’t. This moment was everything Patsy’d ever dreamed of—the recognition and receiving such fantastic exposure over national television. Patsy told me later she had a strong impulse to holler out ‘Mama!’ but got control of herself. The response was overwhelming. People were standing and yelling for more.”

Godfrey finally had to calm the audience. He put his arm around her. “Congratulations, Patsy. Something unbelievable has happened. For the first time in our history, the applause has frozen the meters. It looks like you’re the winner!” All Patsy could do was smile and cry. “Little lady, you sure know how to sing. Will you do another song for us?”

The audience went wild again. Patsy got to do a country song after all, the Hank Williams hit “Your Cheatin’ Heart.”

“And when she finished,” exclaimed Mrs. Hensley, “the audience went crazy again! It was one of the most memorable occasions of my life. And Patsy’s!”

Godfrey congratulated Patsy once again. “There’s surely stardust on you, Patsy Cline!” As was the custom with the winners, she was invited to return the following Monday as special guest.

As excited as she must have been, that night Patsy wrote in her diary, simply “Went on the Godfrey Talent Show . . . Won.” Now Mrs. Hensley was feeling more deeply ashamed of their deception and made Patsy promise that when they saw Godfrey the next morning they’d tell him the truth.

In his office at the CBS building, after they exchanged pleasantries, Patsy told the host there was someone special she wanted him to meet. “Mr. Godfrey, Mrs. Hensley is really—”

“My God, girl, I know this lady is your mother!”

They had been found out, but Mrs. Hensley was immensely relieved, especially when Patsy wasn’t disqualified.

Godfrey scolded Patsy, “I’d be ashamed to show my face back in Winchester if I had my mother with me and didn’t introduce her to everybody watching!”

“But Miss Davis told me it wasn’t allowed.”

“Normally it isn’t. But I make the rules and I can break them! Patsy, let me tell you something. You may not always be the wide-eyed little country girl you are now, but, for goodness sake, don’t you ever change from the girl you really are. If you do, no one will ever love or respect you. Now, I have a surprise for you and the nice Mrs. Hensley. Patsy, how would you like to go to work for me?”

“Oh, Mr. Godfrey! I don’t know what to say.”

“And I bet that doesn’t happen often. And, Patsy, listen to Miss Davis and Mr. Farber. They’re talented people and know what best suits your voice. Work with them. Don’t fight them.”

“Oh, yes sir!”

Mrs. Hensley went home the next day, while Patsy was received at Decca by an elated Paul Cohen.

“Finally something’s happened,” he told her. “What a great voice and a great song! Orders are pouring in! Young lady, looks like we’ve got an unreleased hit on our hands.”

Patsy told Cohen she was broke and asked if she could receive an advance.

“That’s between you and Bill McCall,” Cohen said. When Patsy told him she’d be working as a Godfrey regular, he saw the potential for bigger sales and a promotional campaign around a record star with TV recognition. “Well, Patsy, how much do you need? I’ll speak to McCall.”

“Mr. Cohen, could I get an advance of twenty-five dollars?”

“Is that all? Most artists with a potential hit record would come in here demanding two to three hundred dollars.”

“Well, that’s all I need to get by on till Mr. Godfrey pays me.”

On Wednesday Patsy began on “Arthur Godfrey Time,” broadcast to an audience of ten million from the CBS studio at 49 East Fifty-second Street. Godfrey
introduced her: “Now, ladies and gentlemen, I want you to meet one of the finest country-western-blues singers in the world. Here’s a gal that can sing just about any kind of song that was ever written and make you love it. We think she’s got everything—sincerity in the delivery of a song, poise, finesse. Welcome, Miss Patsy Cline.”

She sang “Walkin’ After Midnight” and the audience saw everything Godfrey stated to them was true. As Patsy bathed in applause at the end of her number, Godfrey asked, “By the way, Patsy, what do you attribute your success to?”

Patsy hesitated, then answered, “I don’t know, Mr. Godfrey. I guess it’s just me!”

“Well, just leave it like it is!” replied the host. “Don’t ever change it.”

Later, in Godfrey’s office, she said, “I’ve given it some thought.”

“What?” he asked.

“You know, what you asked me this morning—about what do I attribute to my success. I owe it all to the wonderful people who have given me a helping hand along the way.”

“That’s great, Patsy. Never forget that, but, hon, don’t sell yourself short. You’ve evidently done some work, too.”