ll of my friends, most of my casual acquiantences and several strangers on airplanes have heard the story about the time I met Dolly Parton. And now, dear reader, you get to hear it too.
For many years, I worked on the features desk of a newspaper in the United Kingdom. Once, I was sent down to London because Dolly was doing a UK tour, and this was media day. Interviews were being done in a two-room suite at the Dorchester, one of the fanciest hotels in London. This was one of those all-day events where the star just grinds through interview after interview. One reporter would get their 15 minutes in one room, then Dolly would get up and go to the other room. When she did, the reporter she’d just finished would leave and another reporter would be ushered in. That reporter would sit there for 15 minutes while Dolly was in the other room, then she’d walk back over and go again. She did this all day, in 15-minute increments.
So I get ushered in just as she’s walking into the other room, and I sit there thinking about my impending interview for 15 minutes. Interviews don’t really make me nervous, but this one gave me some jitters. I decided on starting with something personal to break the ice, make things a bit less monotonous for her and hopefully make the whole thing a bit more interesting. And as it happened, I had a way to do that.
She walked in and sat down, and I started with a bit about myself. I explained that I was familiar with Sevier County, Tennessee, where she grew up, because while I was in college I had spent several summers working for my parents, who at the time owned a campground just over the county line in Cocke County.
Now, Cocke County, Tennessee is a lovely, rural place up in the mountains; if you’re ever up that way, I highly recommend it. It’s also got something of a spicy reputation.
Dolly smiled big.
“Cocke County!” she said. “Where people go for their ...”
And then she named off several popular products and services I’m not sure I should mention in a family newspaper.
Point being, Dolly Parton told it like it is.
We remember Dolly in this month’s Laker - in particular, her remarkable charitable work. Her Imagination Library has given young children worldwide more than 330 million books; several thousand of those books have been given away in Miami Lakes. A drop in their bucket, but it has mattered here.
We are a fractured people, but a woman who came from nothing, made beautiful music and gave away books is one subject on which we have a quorum.
In 1977, music writer Lester Bangs wrote in an obituary of his moment’s recently deceased music star that “will never again agree on anything as we agreed on Elvis.”
I’m pleased to report Lester wasn’t quite right. It seems we all agree on Dolly.