The night Dolly came to Albany

Not long after Dolly Parton began her career, she and her then-singing partner, Porter Wagoner, came to Albany and performed at the Clinton County Fair. The date was July 24, 1973. At the time, they were one of the most heavily-booked acts operating out of Nashville.

By July 1973, Dolly had already become one of the most success­ful songwriters In Nashville. She and Porter came to Albany because, at the time, Porter was concentrating their shows in the smaller, more rural areas of the country in order to bring their music to people who would not ordinari­ly have a chance to see them. Accompanying them to Albany was comedian Speck Rhodes, who was known for his missing front teeth and his bright and colorful wardrobe, and the famous Wagonmasters band.

At the fair, Dolly sang, "Coat of Many Colors," which was already massively popular. She also sang her first #1 hit, "Joshua." Her song, "Jolene," would be released almost three months later. That night Porter and Dolly sang all their hit duets, like "If Teardrops Were Pennies" and Daddy was an Old time Preacher Man." It was a most memorable occasion, a great night to be at the Clinton County Fair and WANY broadcast it live on the air!

Dolly gained a national audience of millions of viewers by virtue of that TV show and one year after appearing at the Clinton County Fair she split from Porter in order to expand her career as a solo artist. Coming soon would be her massive hit, "I Will Always Love You," a song she wrote on the very bus that brought her to Albany fifty-three years ago. She dedicated it to Porter. The rest of the story you know.

Kenny Bilbrey and The Monkees

Everyone knows how much Kenny Bilbrey loved The Monkees (as does his brother). Kenny had told me recently that "Pleasant Valley Sunday" was his favorite Monkees song. "Pleasant Valley Sunday" was recorded on June 10, 1967, with Michael Nesmith on electric guitar, Peter Tork on piano, Micky Dolenz sang the lead part and played acoustic guitar, and Nesmith and Kenny's most favorite Monkee, Davy Jones, sang the harmony parts. The song, written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, is about dissatisfaction with living in the suburbs.

"Another Pleasant Valley Sunday
Charcoal burnin' everywhere
Rows of houses that are all the same
And no one seems to care"

Davy Jones, they say, was a very warm and caring person, just like his character on the show. Kenny and Kelly met him after a show in Indiana. Standing at the edge of the stage, the brothers yelled out "I love you!" and Davy replied that he loved them. It was a great moment in their lives. I know, because when they returned home, one of their first stops was at the radio station. Both of them had tears in their eyes as they described what they had experienced at the front of the stage. I interviewed them on the air and they kept the recording of it in Kelly's vehicle. More than once I could hear it blasting from the car if they saw me pass by or pull in to a restaurant or gas station where they were. Surely, their passion for The Monkees was unequaled.

Twenty-five years after the TV series finished its first run, Davy Jones recorded “Free (The Greatest Story Ever Told).” Kelly called me this morning (Thursday) and said this was Kenny's favorite Davy Jones song as a solo artist.

"All my life is just a stage i’m going through
The director has written lines for me and you
And we must act accordingly
All I know is this is the greatest story ever told
And we’ll never grow old
We just pan away, fade to light"

Kelly said Kenny would always say when he had seen or spoken to Randy "Specktacular," with strong emphasis on that last part. When I was running for city council, I gave him a campaign card. I reckon, from all accounts, he showed it all over town. It was one of the favorite things I did as a candidate.

Kenny left out Wednesday aboard that last train to Clarksville. Until we see you again, we will always remember you, singing...
"Hey, hey, we're The Monkees!" 💕

In Memory of Ed Bruce

One of my all-time favorite singer/songwriters has died. Arkansas native Ed Bruce, who co-wrote the 1978 hit, “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” for Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson, died of natural causes today (Jan. 8, 2021) in Clarksville, TN. He was 81.

In 1979, Tanya Tucker scored a major hit with his song, “Texas (When I Die).”

Bruce's deep, yet tender voice is what caught my eye (and ear) many years ago. He was an obvious choice to do radio and TV commercials, which he did to supplement his income.

In 1981, his own recording of “You’re the Best Break This Old Heart Ever Had” went #1 and was his biggest success as a singer.

Bruce was also an actor. His biggest role was on the TV series, "Bret Maverick," starring James Garner, which ran on NBC-TV during the 1981-82 season.

For a while Bruce lived just outside of Monterey, Tennessee, prior to moving to Clarksville.

My favorite Ed Bruce song is "I Know."

I said God, I hurt
God said, I know
God, I’m so depressed at times
He said, that’s why I gave you sunshine
I said, God my loved one died
God said, so did mine
Oh, God, mine was such a loss
He said they nailed mine to a cross
He said I know
did I not make you
A covenant that’s sealed
I’ll not forsake you
You’re not alone, I’m all around you
My glory is revealed
my love surrounds you
I know
I said but God, your loved one lives
God said so does yours
I asked him where they are tonight
He said be at peace
they are in my life


(Chorus)

I said, God I hurt
God said my child I know

The Haircut

I came across a word the other day:

Presumptuous [pri-zuhmp-choo-uhs], adjective

It means failing to observe the limits of what is permitted or appropriate. It reminded me of a haircut idea I had when I was about eight or nine years old.

It was a rainy Saturday morning on Third Street. I was inside my house watching the Three Stooges on TV when I heard mom say she was leaving to go buy groceries, which meant dad would be charge of us five kids. He was given one chore to do while she was gone....haircuts for us boys.

At that moment a grand idea came to me. So grand, in fact, that I couldn't wait to do it. I wanted my hair to look like Moe Howard's hair. As soon as mom left, I went to the kitchen and searched until I found a bowl that fit on top of my head, right down to just above my ears.

"Perfect," I thought. "This will do!"

With the bowl still on my head, I went to my dad and asked him to cut my hair really short up to the rim of the bowl. "Okay, if that's what you want," he said laughing. When he finished, I realized quickly that, just as I had predicted, it was nothing short of a masterpiece!

I was so happy...and then my mom came home. Let's just say I had two haircuts that day. I also learned something pretty valuable. Surprising someone with something is not always a great idea.

Eventually, my mom relented and I was able to wear a bowl cut. Well, sort of. It was more like a burr with bangs, but that's a story I'll save for another day.

Tim Conway's Tale of Childhood Faith and Answered Prayer

2007
by Tim Conway

Five dimes were burning a hole in my pocket—the ones I'd saved just for this day. The carnival was in town! Part of the annual Blossom Festival in my hometown of Chagrin Falls, Ohio: brass bands marched down Main Street, the town's ladies competed for the best jams and pies and the fruit trees dripped pink and white blossoms on the sidewalk. But, for me the best part was the carnival.

Saturday morning I wrapped my fingers around those coins and made my way to the carnival. "Step right up, young man, step right up," came the call from the booths. "Take a chance and win the prize of your life!"

There were giant teddy bears and rockets that a 12-year-old kid like me could shoot off in the backyard. Plastic jewelry sparkled in gimcrack treasure chests. But I wasn't going to waste my hard-earned money on just anything. It had to be the perfect thing.

Why pitch a Ping-Pong ball into a pot of goldfish or swing a hammer in a test for "The World's Strongest Man" if you didn't really want the prize?

I lingered for a moment at the merry-go-round, watching the horses go round and round to the calliope's song. They seemed a poor match for the real horses my dad took care of, and I would rather ride the real thing.

I bought a Coke in a bottle and sipped it, walking around the fairgrounds. One dime down. Then I spotted the Ferris wheel, circling above the fair. Ten cents a ride. I ponied up my second dime and hopped on.

Slowly I rose above the cotton candy and popcorn booths, above the sounds of the barkers shouting, above the trees until I could see the whole town. There was the school I attended and the fishing hole my buddies and I raced to after school.

I could see the ballpark, the movie theater on Main Street and our church, the center of our world.

Both Mom and Dad had immigrat­ed here from the Old Country. Dad had worked with horses back in Ireland and got a job on a horse farm. And Mom was a seamstress who could sew anything; Dad's shirts, my Halloween costumes, her own dresses. She came here from Romania when she was only 16 years old and quickly found work.

I was their only kid and I always felt I was a real blessing to them. But when we prayed together on Sunday mornings their faith seemed so much greater. Kneeling next to them, I felt like I was waiting to hear God speak.

The Ferris wheel brought me plummet­ing back down to the ground and I hurried away, fingering the three dimes left in my pocket. That's when I spot­ted it: a white plastic crucifix that glowed in the dark with an emerald-green ribbon around it.

It was attached to one of 60 plas­tic ducklings bobbing up and down in a pool of water. A hose at the bottom of the pool made the ducks swim and spin. That crucifix was meant to be mine. I'd never been so sure of anything in my life.

"Step right up, son," the barker called to me. "For just ten cents that beauty could be all yours. All you have to do is pick it up with a hook. I'll bet you can catch anything when you fish."

Sure can, I thought. I handed over my dime and the man handed me a wooden pole. I lowered the hook toward the crucifix, slowly, carefully, but just as I yanked it the plastic duck scurried away. "Try again," said the barker, holding out his hand for another dime. This time it'll work.

I acted like I was fishing down by the river, casting my hook toward a trout. The duck with the crucifix came just in reach. I jerked up the line. Noth­ing. "Third time's a charm," said the man. I handed him my last dime and lowered the hook ever so gently to the crucifix...and pulled. Nothing.

The barker turned away. "Step right up," he called. It was so unfair! All my dimes were gone. Why was I so sure that crucifix was meant for me? Why was I certain I could win it?

I started to walk away, head down. My day at the carnival was over. Then I spotted something on the ground. One shiny dime, glinting in the bright sun. I picked it up and squeezed it between my fingers—and headed back to the game.

For some reason, I turned around. To this day, I can't tell you why. I left the fairground and stopped at a giant old maple tree. Leaning against the trunk, I closed my eyes and started praying, praying harder than I'd ever prayed before.

Lord, I said, if you're listening, I would really like that cross. The one that glows in the dark with the emerald ribbon.

I stayed there for a long time, just waiting. I could hear shouts at the carnival and the sound of the calliope. But slowly it all faded away and I was left with only my de­sire for the cross. What did it mean? It was just a piece of plastic that glowed in the dark, after all.

No, but it was more. It represented the faith I'd been yearning for, the deep and living faith that my parents had. I wanted it too and, somehow, in my 12-year-old heart, that plastic crucifix had come to symbolize it.

Standing against that old maple tree I knew that faith was already there for me to have, if I could just reach for it. Lord, I really want that crucifix. But even if it's not meant to be, I want you in my life every day.

I hurried back to the fairground, and right back to that booth. The barker looked at me, raised an eyebrow and stretched out his palm. I slapped the dime in it, and he handed me the fishing pole, eyeing me with bemusement.

Many of the other prizes had disappeared, but the crucifix was still there. I dipped the pole in the water, felt it catch against the emerald ribbon, then I raised the hook. The crucifix dangled from the other end. It was mine.

That little cross stayed with me for a lifetime. It was with me when I left home and went off to college. It was with me when I decid­ed I wanted to act, and got my break on the Steve Allen Show and then on McHale's Navy.

It was with me through my wonder­ful years on The Carol Burnett Show, too. I still have it, and I hold on to it when I pray for people who are ill, for my children and grandchildren.

All these years later, miles from Chagrin Falls, that little carnival cross still helps me feel connected to God.

"My Friend" by Laverne DeFazio

"My Friend"
by Laverne DeFazio

My best friend is Shirley Feeney
The best in all the land
Whenever we're in trouble
We face it hand in hand
We laugh when we are happy
We cry when we are sad
We talk when we are lonely
Just to know her makes me glad
If I had one wish in life
I know what it would be
I'd have Shirl as my best friend
For all eternity

("Laverne & Shirley," season 5, episode 16 - "The Beatnik Show")

R.I.P. Penny Marshall
(Oct. 15, 1943 – Dec. 17, 2018)

For the record, Laverne & Shirley became the most-watched American television program by its third season, and was nominated for two Golden Globe Awards and a Primetime Emmy Award in 1979.

"Roy Clark, Thanks For Coming"

I don't know whose idea it was to form the Hee Haw Gospel Quartet, but boy was it a good one. Formed In the late 1970s, the quartet consisted of Roy Clark, Buck Owens, Grandpa Jones and Kenny Price. They would gather around a microphone and sing a gospel hymn at the end of the show's last segment. Several of the quartet's performances were released as recordings. We had two albums at WANY and we played them a lot. When Elmer Goodman died Sid Scott told me he had regretted not taking him into a recording studio with The Singjng DJ's and recording a gospel album in Hee Haw Quartet fashion. That would have been awesome.

Yesterday when I first heard that Roy Clark, a Grammy-winning country music singer-guitarist, had died of pneumonia complications at the age of 85, I immediately thought of the Hee Haw Gospel Quartet.

Clark was born on April 15, 1933 in Meherrin, VA, but his family moved to Washington, D.C. when he was a kid. His father played in a square dance band and took him to free concerts by the National Symphony and by military bands. “I was subjected to different kinds of music before I ever played,” Clark once said. “Dad said, ‘Never turn your ear off to music until your heart hears it — because then you might hear something you like.”

Roy started playing the guitar when he was 14 years old. In the early days of his career, he performed with banjo player David “Stringbean" Akeman. He said, "We would play drive-in theaters, standing on top of the concession stand. If the people liked it, they'd honk their horns."

Roy began making records in 1954. It didn't take long for people to sit up and take notice of his guitar playing. In the mid 1950s, he honed his television chops as a regular on Country Style, the D.C.-based television show hosted by Jimmy Dean, eventually taking over as host after Dean relocated to New York

. His big break came in 1960, when he was invited to Las Vegas to open for Wanda Jackson. After her band broke up, Clark hired her manager, who secured him appearances on The Tonight Show and Beverly Hillbillies. Clark was guest host on “The Tonight Show” several times in the 1960s and 1970s, a rarity for a country performer at that time. Yankee's baseball great Mickey Mantle was moved to tears when he heard Roy sing “Yesterday When I Was Young” and for years made Clark promise to sing it at his memorial, a request granted when Mantle died in 1995.

His first hit single came in 1963 with his recording of the Bill Anderson song, "Tips of my Fingers." He scored a huge hit in 1969 with one of his most beloved recordings, "Yesterday When I Was Young." He followed that up in 1970 with, "Thank God and Greyhound She's Gone." His 1973 hit "Come Live With Me," went to #1. His recording of "Alabama Jubilee" won him a Grammy Award in 1982. He was also known for his instrumental versions of “Malaguena,” on 12-string guitar, and “Ghost Riders in the Sky.”

As if his pickin' the banjo or the guitar wasnt enough, Roy's sense of humor captured the hearts of his fans. In a 1966 appearance on the TV show, Swingin’ Country, the host, Rusty Draper, asked him, “About how long have you been performing?“ Without skipping a beat, Clark said, “About three months.”

The music-comedy TV show, Hee Haw, greatly impacted a whole generation of people, thanks largely to one of Kornfield Kounty's most popular residents, the show's co-host, Roy Clark. CBS launched Hee Haw in summer 1969 as country music’s answer to Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In. Each episode was filled with country music stars and down-home comedy skits. It lasted three seasons on the network before moving to syndication, where it aired for 22 more years.

Hee Haw was theme-based on rural culture, although it was not limited to a rural audience. It was successful in all of the major markets, including New York, Los Angeles, Boston, and Chicago.

The show provided a lot of laughs, and plenty of country music. Buck and Roy hosted the show through most of its run for most of its run. Their dialogue at the beginning of each show became one of most popular quotes ever: "I'm a-pickin' (Buck Owens)and I'm a-grinnin' (Roy Clark.

My favorite Roy Clark skit was set in a barber shop with Archie Campbell, a barber, cutting Roy's hair as he told one if his stories, like the one about Rindercella, her mugly other, two sad bisters and a very prandsom hince, or how about the "Oh that's good, no that's bad" gag? There was also the one where Roy would raise up from behind the counter to exclaim "Empty Arms Hotel!" Clark said Hee Haw capped off his career. “This was the icing on the cake," he said. This put my face and name together.” Another favorite of mine was the lamentful song "Gloom, Despair and Agony on Me," featuring Roy Clark, Buck Owens, Gordie Tapp and Archie Campbell.

Roy Clark was member of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Grand Ole Opry and has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He also won the Acedemy of Country Music’s Pioneer Award. Beginning in 1983, Roy opened the Roy Clark Celebrity Theatre in Branson, Missouri, and was one of the first country entertainers to open a theater there. Dozens followed him.

Roy was all about spreading love and good cheer. One of my all-time favorite quotes came when he said, "The next chance you get, do somethin' nice for somebody - say 'good day,' hold a door open - and don't wait around for a thank you...you don't need it." If only we would all do that, the world would be a better place. Roy must have known that.

He appreciated his fans and always let them know that he did. At the end of his concerts, he would tell the audience: “We had to come, but you had a choice. Thanks for being here.”

Yes, we had a choice and we chose you, Roy Clark. Thanks for coming. We were not let down. Thank you for the music, and for the laughs.

I close my story with the Hee Haw Gospel Quartet singing a beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace, featuring Charlie McCoy on harmonica.