I Will Always Love You: Remembering Dolly Parton
By Dale Hall
Some entertainers become stars. A precious few become part of our lives.
Dolly Parton was one of those.
Today came the sad news that Dolly has passed away at the age of 80. From the recent reports concerning her health, I think a lot of us feared that the news might not be good. Still, knowing something may be coming doesn't make it any easier when it finally does.
For those of us who have been around long enough to remember Dolly before 9 to 5, before Dollywood, before all the awards and before she became simply Dolly to most of America, it feels like we've lost someone who has been somewhere in the background of our lives for as long as we can remember.
I remember Dolly singing on The Porter Wagoner Show. And I remember when she left.
Porter Wagoner had given the young singer from East Tennessee a tremendous opportunity, and their partnership helped make Dolly a star. But eventually she knew it was time to go out on her own.
Out of that difficult goodbye came what has always been my favorite Dolly Parton song:
“I Will Always Love You.”
Years later, Whitney Houston would turn it into one of the biggest recordings in music history. But Dolly wrote the song for Porter. It wasn't originally a romantic breakup song. It was Dolly saying goodbye to someone who had been important to her life and career.
She was essentially saying: I have to go my own way, but what you did for me mattered, and I won't forget it.
Maybe that's one reason the song has always meant so much to me.
Dolly didn't have to tear somebody down in order to move forward. She could be grateful for yesterday while still knowing it was time for tomorrow.
Her decision to leave The Porter Wagoner Show turned out to be one of the defining moments of an extraordinary career.
The little girl who grew up poor in the mountains of East Tennessee became one of the greatest singer-songwriters in American music. She gave us “Coat of Many Colors,” “Jolene,” “9 to 5,” “Here You Come Again,” “Two Doors Down,” and so many others.
And, of course, “I Will Always Love You.”
That song followed her throughout her career, and one of my favorite uses of it came in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.
Dolly played Miss Mona opposite Burt Reynolds as Sheriff Ed Earl Dodd. Near the end of the movie, Mona sings “I Will Always Love You” to Ed Earl.
That's one of those movie scenes I've never forgotten.
Knowing the real story behind the song makes it even better. Dolly took something she had written years earlier to say goodbye to Porter Wagoner and placed it into an entirely different kind of goodbye between Mona and Ed Earl.
And it worked.
Boy, did it work.
That's what great songs can do. They begin with one person's story and somehow end up belonging to everybody.
Dolly proved she could do considerably more than sing and write songs, too. She became a legitimate movie star. I enjoyed her in 9 to 5, Steel Magnolias and, certainly, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.
She could be surrounded by accomplished actors and never seem out of place. She was funny, quick-witted and completely comfortable being herself.
Then there was Dollywood.
I've had the pleasure of visiting a couple of times, and I always thought the place reflected something important about Dolly. She became one of the most famous women in the world, but she never acted ashamed of where she came from.
Quite the opposite.
She celebrated it.
The mountains, the music, the people and the culture of East Tennessee remained part of her identity no matter how famous she became.
I even have one little personal connection to the Parton family.
Years ago, I was assisting one of the promoters at a concert in Athens, Georgia, and had the opportunity to meet Dolly's sister, Stella Parton.
I can't sit here and claim that I remember a long list of Stella's songs. I don't.
But I remember “The Danger of a Stranger.”
And I remember meeting her.
Funny how memories work. Something that happened years ago can sit quietly in some corner of your mind until another event suddenly brings it right back to the surface. Hearing today's news about Dolly brought that night in Athens back to me.
Another thing I especially enjoyed about Dolly through the years was hearing her sing on other people's records.
Sometimes you didn't even know she was coming.
Then that unmistakable voice would enter the song and suddenly the whole thing sounded a little different.
A little warmer.
A little better.
One of my favorites was Brad Paisley's “When I Get Where I'm Going.” Dolly's harmony was perfect for that song.
Of course, there was Kenny Rogers and “Islands in the Stream.” Dolly sang with artists from different generations and different styles of music, yet somehow she always sounded like she belonged there.
She never sounded like an older performer desperately trying to remain relevant.
Dolly was relevant simply because she was Dolly.
But her legacy goes far beyond records, movies and amusement parks.
She gave back.
Her Imagination Library put books into the hands of millions of children. She supported education, medical research and numerous charitable causes. For someone famous for rhinestones, big hair and an enormous personality, some of Dolly Parton's most important work happened far away from a stage.
Maybe that's part of why people loved her.
She never seemed to forget where she came from.
And she never seemed to forget people who hadn't been as fortunate as she became.
There will be plenty written about Dolly Parton in the coming days, and there should be.
Music historians will talk about the songwriter.
Country music will honor one of its giants.
Hollywood will remember the actress.
East Tennessee will remember the mountain girl who carried a little piece of home everywhere she went.
Millions of families will remember the books that arrived in their mailboxes because Dolly Parton believed children ought to have them.
But the rest of us are allowed to remember her in simpler ways.
I'll remember watching her with Porter Wagoner.
I'll remember her stepping out on her own.
I'll remember the movies.
I'll remember Miss Mona looking at Ed Earl and singing goodbye.
I'll remember hearing that unmistakable Tennessee voice suddenly appear on somebody else's record.
I'll remember a couple of enjoyable visits to Dollywood.
And now I'll probably think a little more often about that night in Athens when I met her sister Stella.
Mostly, though, I'll remember the songs.
Especially one.
It's almost remarkable that the song Dolly wrote when she was closing one chapter of her life and beginning another would become the song that seems most appropriate as we say goodbye to her.
“I Will Always Love You.”
Today, those words belong to us.
Thank you for the music, Dolly.
Thank you for the movies and the laughter.
Thank you for the books you put into children's hands.
Thank you for remembering where you came from.
And thank you for sharing that unmistakable voice with us for all these years.
We will always love you, Dolly.
