Yesterday marked the end of an era in the world of country music. From the early 60’s, when his weekly television show introduced both Dolly Parton and Speck Rhodes to the world, all the way to the first years of the new millennium when he hosted on the Grand Ole Opry. Porter Wagoner was the real deal, as colorful as the Nudie suits he helped popularize with his original back-up band, the Wagon Masters. No, he might not have launched a come-back campaign like so many of the greats eventually do. No hit song with Dwight Yoakum to pull the old memory out for a little dusting, all ready to display to the “new generation” of country fans. No, if you weren’t already on Porter’s bandwagon, there was a pretty good chance you’d already missed the ride. Wagoner’s fans were hardcore. They were not above an appreciation for some of the up-and-coming C&W hotshots, but to a man they agreed that very little of their shtick would even be possible if not for Porter Wagoner blazing the trail for them.
The closest the man ever tried for a “come-back”, to my knowledge, was in the early 80’s when he replaced his entire band with female musicians (good-looking ones, at that). I always figured he was inspired by the success of all-girl bands like the Go-Go’s, but it could have been simply a lecherous plot to woo more gentlemen to the shows. Was it a successful campaign? Who knows. I remember it. That’s saying something.
I also remember the Sunday ritual that was regularly observed in our house during my early childhood. A memory that stands, with little company from those particular years, in the closets of my mind. I don’t remember going to church at all, but I cannot forget all the family gathering around the tube when WKY broadcast the southern gospel showcase, “Gospel Jubilee”. “Jubilee!...Jubilee!....you’re invited to this happy jubilee!”
Which was all fine and good. I had no problems with that old-timey preachin’ songs. But it couldn’t end soon enough, as I saw it. Buck Owens was on next and there was no way I was missin’ the Buckaroos. There was something about Buck, I couldn’t help but like the guy. The way he sang with Don Rich as if they were the closest friends on and off the stage. Great songs: “Tiger by the Tail”, “Welfare Line”, “Together Again”.
Oh yes, indeedy, Buck had a great show. Even though my old man thought Buck was top notch, he was always waiting for the next 30 minutes. The following half hour would be ruled by the man, Porter Wagoner. Porter’s show was, like Buck’s, a venue for other crooners, most of whom have gone on to careers almost as illustrious as those of these two kings of Sunday morning music shows (the format having fallen out of public demand since the first airing of “Hee Haw”).
Of course Dolly would be there, charming all the men (especially those within the 14-17 demographic). It is a well-known fact that Parton wrote her greatest song, “I Will Always Love You”, for Porter Wagoner. Although I don’t know enough of their histories to say this with authority, I have always believed that the chief Wagon Master got himself enmeshed in a web of romantic proportions with the sultry Ms. Parton. That may or may not have been the case, but it makes sense to me.
To be honest, I seem to remember that back in those days I was a bigger Buck Owens fan than I was of Porter’s. I thought Porter’s delivery was not as charismatic as Owens’. I thought he was kinda goofy looking and those flashy sequined suits put it over the top. I appreciated him, because my dad knew what was good when it came to that kind of music. I trusted his opinion and it was obvious that he thought very, very highly of the Porter Wagoner show.
I did eventually come to like his music when my grandmother gave me a copy of his “Best of Porter Wagoner Volume One” for my birthday. That’s when I first paid attention to chestnuts like “The Carroll County Accident”, “Big Wind”, “The Cold, Hard Facts of Life”, the morbid “Banks of Ohio”, the silly “You Got to Have a License”…I had much respect for the legend back then. The only thing that’s changed is the degree of my appreciation. It has increased steadily since he chucked in the all-girl backing band.
He went on to record one of the creepiest, bizarre and downright disturbing songs ever to be introduced into the country & western songbook. “The Rubber Room”…what a concept! I guess it was not politically incorrect back in those days to call a mentally imbalanced person a “psycho in the rubber room”. It’s a harrowing exhortation from a man whose time on this level of reality has come to an abrupt halt. Thrown into a small hospital room with no small ceremony, he is billeted next door to a man who is 3 times nuttier than he is. How can one sleep when this guy is hitting the walls, screaming a woman’s name? “The Rubber Room”! How classic. If you’re over the age of 50 and have never heard “The Rubber Room”, well mister, you’d better correct that or you’ll never be recognized for having any knowledge of and/or appreciation for music of any kind.
And while we’re at it with the great songs…How about that “Big Wind”? You live in Oklahoma and you know that the guy’s not singing about flatulence. There is a well known legend here in the Sooner state. It centers around a storm, a tornado, actually. The siren whistles are blowing, the TV weathermen screaming dire warnings to the fools who hadn’t made it out to the cellar yet. Farmer John struggles to locate his brood to usher them into the safety of the underground shelter (which also doubles as a bomb shelter, as well). One by one he gets ‘em below. But for whatever reason, the heroic Farmer doesn’t get a chance to join them and perishes, blown away by the twister. This legend is the one recounted in the lyrics to “Big Wind”. It’s not an optimistic story, true…but it is a stern warning to anyone foolish enough to wind up outside of the cellar when the serious stuff starts hitting the fan.
Oh, I could go on and on, raving and ranting about the hundreds of awesome songs he wrote. The hours of fine music he’s responsible for. The millions of people who have been entertained at his shows…he was a master showman.
It’s always difficult to use the word “was” when describing a man’s attributes. As if I had any idea about who the man was outside of the persona he projected for his fans. That may be so, but “was” is still a heartbreaker, and it is never anything less than a surprise when it applies to an icon like Porter Wagoner.
Lung cancer takes another one.
And a good ‘un, at that.
