The Final Crash and Legacy

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Minimum purchase required for delivery, pricing, participation, delivery area and charges may vary . This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some listeners. Please check the show notes for more information. Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis This is a story about a country singer, a country singer who heard voices . A country singer with the greatest voice in country music history , and a country singer with demons . It's also a story of a shooting, an escape, a crash , and of course , redemption , sort of this is the story of George Jones, a man who made great music . Some of the greatest music of all time. You're still on my mind, anyone? Seriously , find me a better country song than George Jones's You're Still On My Mind That Song is Great Music and that music at the top of the show wasn't great music . That was a preset loop from my melatron called Play ing Possum MK . I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to buggy ogy ogie by a taste of honey . And why would I play you that specific slice of nose candy cheese could I afford it ? Because that was the number one song in America on september thirteenth, nineteen seventy eight, and that was the day that the demons in George Jones's head to convince him to murder his best friend , Earl Peanut Montgomery . On this episode , a shooting, an escape, a crash , and the greatest singer of all time , no show George Jones. I'm Jake B rennan and this is Disgraceland George Jones took a snort of powder lined up on the back of the toilet tank . Then he took a slug of whiskey from a flask in his coat pocket . He looked at the airline ticket to New York City resting on the sink , and then he stared up the bathroom window to his truck out in the parking lot, just ten feet away. It was september nineteen seventy seven, and George Jones was standing in the Nashville offices of his record label, Epic Rec ords . He was meeting with the label's vice president, Rick Blackburn. They were going over travel plans for George's upcoming two night stand at the bottom line in Manhattan. The tiny nightclub was Greenwich Village's destination for intimate performances from a who's who of stars from Bruce Springsteen to Linda Ronstadt to Lou Reed. With a four hundred person capacity, the room was a fraction of the size of George's usual audience , but this might have been the most important show , not just of George Jones's life, but in country music history. For years, the country music industry had been looking for ways to break the genre with audiences beyond the South. Lately, it had been decided that the best way to do this would be to send George Jones to enemy territory to play for a room packed with critics from Rolling Stone, Time Magazine , Newsweek, and more. One good George Jones concert would make them all country music fans for life . At least that was the plan as Rick Blackburn explained it to George Jones just a few minutes ago in his office . But when George contemplated the expectations that had just been laid on his shoulders, he felt his heart start beating faster. The sweat began beating on his forehead, and he heard a voice whisper in his ear. You're a hack. You're a fraud, George . If you go on stage, you'll just let them all down because you're nothing. You better run, George George. You better run while you can . George closed his eyes to shut out the voice, but it kept growing louder while Rick droned on in the background. George had to stop this intrusive voice. He had to make it go away. George let out a loud squawking noise that sounded like a duck call. Rick stopped talking in mid sentence and stared at him. George excused himself, said he needed to hit the head. Rick looked at him strangely but just nodded. Now, sitting in the bathroom, George was looking out the window with a flask and plane ticket in his hand, trying to decide his next move. The window sill was old but in good condition. The white paint was slightly faded where some of the wood grain peeped through. It reminded George of the window in the last apartment he lived in with his parents in Beaumont, Texas. He remembered lying in bed, staring at the window sill, waiting for his father to come home. Some nights the door would open gently, and click shut, and he would hear his father's feet shuffle across the floor, pick up the guitar he had given George for Christmas, strum a few chords, and then head to bed. Other nights, it felt like an entirely different man came home . This man still looked like George's father, but his eyes were wild and his breath burned, and his voice turned raspy and mean. He would slam the door open, sometimes with three or four friends behind him, and he would pound his feet across the living room. George would throw a blanket over his head and pretend that he was asleep, but it never did any good. George would hear his door open, then seconds later two rough hands would yank him out of bed This demon who had control of his father's body would scream down at him to grab his guitar. He was having a party and he needed music. If George didn't move fast enough, his father would cuff him. If he didn't sing well enough, his father would punch him. If George tried to quit playing too soon after his father passed out, sometimes his father would wake up in a fury and then his old man would beat everyone in the family . So, George would race across the living room and strap on his guitar. And even though his hands were shaking and his heart was pounding, he learned to quickly focus on a tune in his mind. He would close his eyes, open his mouth, and let out the words of Gene Autre or Ernest Tubby, Blues songs or gospel. He could sing it all . But when he did, for a few moments, he would be transported to his favorite place in the world , out under a tree with no one else in the world, just him and a guitar singing a song . After a dozen or so songs, George would open his eyes and he would find himself back in the living room. His father's head would be drooping with his hands still clutching the neck of a whiskey bottle . And this was the most dangerous time. George learned to keep playing the guitar softly as he edged towards the front window . Without missing a beat, he would use his knee to slide the window up a little bit at a time, and he'd keep singing as he slid one leg out the window and then another . And then as quietly as possible, he would slide the window shut, humming the tune the whole way . He would creep across the porch, climb through his bed room window , and finally fall asleep . At least that's what happened on good nights. On other nights, George wasn't so lucky. Thirty years later, the memory still made him freeze with fear as he recalled his first live performing experience . He thought again about New York City and the collection of fancy college educated critics from the magazine sitting in the front row. There was no way in hell was going he to make this trip . George crumpled the plane ticket and tossed it into the trash. Then, just like when he was a boy, he eased the window open, crept out onto the porch , and made a mad dash for his truck in the parking lot, leaving Rick and his record label and the plans for New York City behind him. A few days later, on september sixth, a group of journalists, including Dan Rather and Walter Cron kite, plus half the cast of Saturday Night Live and many other celebrities were packed themselves into the bottom line. George's band, the Jones Boys were there, and the team from George's record label, Epic Records was there too . But George Jones was nowhere to be seen . In fact, no one would find him for another two weeks before he washed up in a cheap motel in Florida. Even though George Jones never even showed up for the gig at the bottom line, it ended up having the effect that his label had hoped for. Instead of being just another performer, his no show made George Jones a legend. There were dozens of media reports about this real life rebel who did as he pleased and didn't give a damn what anyone cared . Just two months later, he was voted country artist of the year in Rolling Stone's year end critics poll. But while the legend of George Jones was growing stronger, so were the voices whispering in his ear. Those voices wanted more , more cocaine, more whiskey, and more control of George's body, of George's mind, of George 's voice . Within a year, they would try to seize control permanently Hey, what up y'all? Summer moves like a great jam session. You start with one idea, one direction, and then it shifts, somebody calls. Energy changes. You take a detour. That's the beauty of it. For me, summer has always been about discovering new sounds, new places, new people, new ideas. You start one place, end up somewhere completely different. And somehow, that's exactly where you're supposed to be. I've always had my spots along the way. Starbucks has been one of those constant before session, on the way to a gig, and between conversations that turn into something bigger than you expected. It's part of that movement, part of that rhythm. And summer's got its own soundtrack too. You can almost hear it without trying . Life's happening all around you, that feeling of staying open to whatever's next . Sometimes it's the smallest things that lock you into that moment. What you're holding, what you're sipping. The new tropical butterflyres Refher from Starbucks Guava and Passion Fruit Flavors with Mango Pineapple flavored pearls. Cold, colorful, galith . Feels like something made for the day that's still unfolding. And that's the thing. Sometimes one small stop changes the whole mood of your day. Start your summer rhythm with Starbucks. Try the new tropical butterfly refresher from Starbucks. This is Malcolm Gladwell from Revisionist History. We spend hours researching products online and deciding what to buy, but there's a split second decision that can make or break a sale. Do you have the trust to hit the buy now button. The way we discover and compare things is evolving, happening faster and influenced by new forms of intelligent advice . But the underlying trust question doesn't go away if anything it's more important than ever. That's where PayPal comes in. For more than twenty five years they've been a trusted way to pay, and now PayPal can make the Aegentic era of commerce work for merchants , letting them maintain control of their brand , their customer relationships , so even as the way we shop changes, the moment that matters most still feels familiar and deeply dependable. Build for payments, growth and agentic PayPal open built for all business . Visit paypal open . com to get started . Purchase and seller protections on eligible transactions only . Terms apply . See paypal dot com slash risk dash management for details. This is Daniel Fischell. And Rider Strong from Pod Meets World. Cat parents unite. We have to look out for each other. Yes, we all know the feeling of being ignored by our little babies a little too well. Yeah, I often wonder to myself, does my cat even love me? Well, there's only one solution to solve that, Shiba. Feed your cat sheba and go from feeling ignored to truly adored in twelve days guaranteed or your money back. Shiba has a wide array of products, appetizers, entrees, treats, and even a kittens menu that will win over even the pickiest eater. My Cat Bill is all about Shiba grilled, just snap, peel, and serve for two gourmet servings, and zero messy leftovers. He loves it, licks it to the bowl. Its protein rich formula is made with real chicken and seafood without artificial flavors, preservatives, corn wheat or soy, so you can be sure your cat is getting the finest ingredients from around the world, but made right here in the USA . Spoil your fur babies and introduce them to the delicious delicacies of Shiba. To learn more, check out Shiba. com . George Jones eased his car to a stop beneath a massive pair of long leaf pines . From the passenger seat, the old man looked at George and he shook his head in disgust . He raised up the thirty eight revolver in his hand to remind George why they were there. George stared back but he, just turned the ke ys and cut the car's engine . From the silence, a voice piped up from the back seat and told the old man to shut the fuck up. But the words came out like some demonic impersonation of Donald Duck . The old man turned toward the back seat and sneered oodle, he explained. I'm just making sure he knows the plan. Deed le reached for the gun, but the old man held it just out of his reach. They tusled for a minute before they got bored, and then they turned their gaze towards George. Well , they both asked with questioning eyes . Oh yeah. George knew the plan. He snatched the gun from the old man , and with shaky hands he opened the cylinder of the revolver and loaded a bullet in each chamber. He snapped it shut and pulled back the hammer . George knew the plan alright. He was going to kill peanut Montgomery . It was September of nineteen seventy eight, barely a year after his no show at the bottom line, and George lost everything . His mother Clara , who died in nineteen seventy four, still praying her son could get clean. The love of his life, Tammy Wynnette. Their storybook romance which played out in tabloids and on hit records ended in divorce in nineteen seventy five . But Tammy had always left the door open to reconciliation . They even recorded a number one album together the year after they divorced . But a few weeks earlier, she'd slammed the door shut by marrying her new manager, George Ritchie. It's all your fault. The old man reminded George with a hard look in his eye. It cut George to the core. He knew it was true. His first few years was with Tammy some of the happiest in his life. Taking the stage with Tammy by his side made him feel confident and energetic, and Tammy made the paralyzing stage fright that he usually beat back with alcohol just a little bit less paralyzing . For a while, he barely drank more than a glass of wine or a beer here and there . But a few days after Tamby gave birth to his daughter, Georgette, the demons inside George whispered in his ear till he couldn't ignore them any more. They went off on a bender that ended up with him being forcibly admitted for ten days to a mental institution in Florida. The marriage never recovered after that. George began spending more time on the road without Tammy , and without her by his side , the stage fright came back with a vengeance and so did the drinking. Just when George thought his body couldn't take any more of the travel, the bad food and the constant need to be the life of the party at every road house along the highway, he found something to take Tammy's place . Something to make him feel energetic and confident. Unlike Tammy, it didn't care how much he drank , and this something was cocaine Doodle hooted from the back seat, salivating at the mention of the drug. George pulled out a baggie, couldn't resist a little taste . Only the old man abstained. He just shook his head in disgust . With cocaine and alcohol coursing through George's system, it didn't take long for his marriage to unravel. Tammy filed for divorce in nineteen seventy five, and George let her take everything. The house, the money, their fans, even his band, the Jones boys, they went with Tammy. It seemed like everyone had abandoned George. Everyone that is, except his best friend, Peenut Montgomery . Hearing the name again, DeeDoule reached for the gun, but the old man slapped his hand away. He smirked at George and reminded him of the old saying A friend in need is a friend indeed and Pina was no friend in need . Earl Pinut Montgomery was an Alabama native, a man who got his start as a session guitarist at the legendary Fame Studios in Florence, Alabama. His sister Melba had been George's duet partner of choice before Tammy. But even after Tammy kicked Melba to the curb, Peanut stayed on as George's number one drinking buddy. It didn't hurt that he played a mean guitar and wrote killer songs like George and Tammy's number one hit were gonna hold on . Especially after Tammy left, George and Peanut raced hell in every barroom from Nashville to Alabama until suddenly, Peanut found himself a new running buddy, Jesus Christ. Peanut got religion. He gave up drinking, and he gave up touring with George . For George, it seemed doubly unfair. George had turned to God so many times in his darkest hours, begging for salvation, but God always ignored his prayers. God left him living in hell day after day , and just when he was at his lowest, God took the only friend George had. George seethed with rage as he felt the cold steel of the revolver in his hand. Since he wasn't able to get to the man upstairs, he would have to settle for taking a shot at the man upstairs his newest fan. Just then, George, D oodle, and the old man saw headlights cresting over the top of a hill. It was Peanut's car. As they watched the car creep nearer, the old man warned George to stick to the plan. Dee Doodoo cackled with a wild look in his eye. Peanut pulled his car up next to George. There was no one else in sight. He rolled down his window and slowly put his hands up on the car door while George glared daggers at him . Peanut gave his friend a sad look. He told George he'd been praying for him . Just hearing the word praying was enough to twist George's face into a scowl . The old man and Doodle whispered to him It was almost time . Peanut said he loved George. He asked why George was persecuting him. Dedeoodle and the old man looked at George. Both nodded their heads. Now , now was the time . George suddenly lifted the revolver up into view. He aimed it straight at peanut's head and he asked the question that Doodle and the old man were scream ing in his ear, do you think your god is going to save you now ? And before Pina could answer, George closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. A gunshot echoed through the creek bed , and then everything went silent . When George opened his eyes, he saw smoke rising from a bullet hole in Peanut's car just an inch below the window. Deedle and the old man screamed at him to fire again. George pulled back the hammer and lined up his shot. He held the gun on Pinut for a long moment, while Pinut just stared back at him without moving. Finally, George lowered the gun . He said, Well, Pinot, I guess God answered the call . And then George drove off into the darkness with smoke still curling around the bullet hole in Peanut Montgomery's car. Peanut visited the district attorney immediately after the shooting, but after learning that George could get fifteen years in jail for attempted murder, he decided not to press charges. Despite almost murdering his friend, George Jones did not slow down on his drug and alcohol consumption. The demonic voices of Doodle and the old man demanded more, more cocaine, more whiskey, more control . Within a year, George's weight had plummeted to less than a hundred pounds. He declared bankruptcy and was reduced to living in a car parked in an alley in downtown Nashville, where he went days without eating solid food, arguing with the voices in his head. He was near death when Peanut finally convinced the judge to have George committed. In late nineteen seventy nine, George Jones landed at Hillcrest Psychiatric Hospital in Birmingh am, Alabama . He spent forty days drying out before he was released in January of nineteen eighty. The first thing he did on his way out of rehab was to stop and buy a six pack. By this point, nearly every one had written off George Jones . Tammy Wynnette, Peanut Montgomery, his family, his record label, his fans . It seemed like there was only one person who still believed in George Jones , and that was his producer , Billy Charrell. Billy had seen George at his worst, arguing back and forth in the voices of Doodle and the old man in the middle of the recording sessions. Billy could hear the damage the cocaine had done to George's vocal cords, but Billy knew one song, one song could change everything . For years, Billy Shirella perfected the art of finding songs that played off of George and Tammy's real life relationship . Now that relationship was over , and Billy had once again found the perfect song a finale for a love gone wrong . The kind of song only George Jones could sing. If he could just get him sober and in the studio for three minutes and fifteen seconds . Even if no one else, not even George Jones believed it, Billy Charrell knew that this was the song that could put George Jones back on top . We'll be right back after this word word, word . Hey, what up y'all? Summer moves like a great jam session. You start with one idea, one direction, and then it shifts, somebody calls. Energy changes. You take a detour. That's the beauty of it. For me, summer has always been about discovering new sounds, new places , new people, new ideas. You start one place, end up somewhere completely different. And somehow, that's exactly where you're supposed to be. I've always had my spots along the way. Starbucks has been one of those constants before, sess aion, on the way to a gig, and between conversations that turn into something bigger than you expected. It's part of that movement, part of that rhythm. The summer's got its own soundtrack too. You can almost hear it without trying. Life's happening all around you, that feeling of staying open to whatever's next. Sometimes it's the smallest things that lock you into that moment. What you're holding, what you're sipping, the new tropical butterfly refresher from Starbucks , Guava and Passion Fruit Flavors with Mango Pineapple flavored pearls. Cold, colorful, alive, feels like something made for the day that's still unfolding. And that's the thing. Sometimes one small stop changes the whole mood of your day. Start your summer rhythm with Starbucks. Try the new tropical butterfly refresher from Starbucks. This is Malcolm Gladwell from Revisionist History . We spend hours researching products online and deciding what to buy, but there's a split second decision that can make or break a sale. Do you have the trust to hit the buy now button? The way we discover and compare things is evolving, happening faster and influenced by new forms of intelligent advice . But the underlying trust question doesn't go away . If anything, it's more important than ever. That's where PayPal comes in. For more than twenty five years, they've been a trusted way to pay. And now PayPal can make the agentic era of commerce work for merchants , letting them maintain control of their brand, their customer relationships . So even as the way we shop changes, the moment that matters most still feels familiar and deeply dependable . Built for payments, growth and agentic. PayPal open, built for all business . Visit paypal en. com to get started . Purchase and seller protections on eligible transactions only . Terms apply. See paypal. com slash risk dash management for details. This is Daniel Fischell. And Rider Strong from Pod Meets World. Cat parents unite. We have to look out for each other. Yes, we all know the feeling of being ignored by our little babies a little too well. Yeah, I often wonder to myself, does my cat even love me? Well, there's only one solution to solve that. Sheba. Feed your cat sheba and go from feeling ignored to truly adored in twelve days guaranteed or your money back. Shiba has a wide array of products, appetizers, entrees, treats, and even a kittens menu that will win over even the pickiest eater. My cat bill is all about Shiba grilled. Just snap, peel and serve for two gourmet servings and zero messy leftovers. He loves it, licks it to the bowl. Its protein rich formula is made with real chicken and seafood without artificial flavors, preservatives, corn wheat, or soy. So you can be sure your cat is getting the finest ingredients from around the world, but made right here in the USA. Spoil your fur babies and introduce them to the delicious delicacies of Shiba. To learn more, check out Shiba. com A Vivaldi concerto swelled to life filling the room with the sounds of violins, music sweet enough to soothe even the most savage beast. The melody kept rising to a thundering climax , when suddenly a needle scratched across the record and the music suddenly cut out . George Jones shot straight up off the coach. He yelled and started swinging wildly at anything within arm's reach. Fortunately, he only made contact with a few empty mic stands, which crashed harmlessly to the floor. He looked across the room and saw his producer, Billy Sharelling, hold the needle above the record that was still spinning on the turntable. Billy gave George a look that said it was time to get to work. Time to finish this piece of shit song . George glared at Billy for waking him up. Before he could say anything though, Dedoodle, the duck squawked out front yo in Billy's direction. The old man just rolled his eyes from where he sat on the couch . George stared at Deedle till he sat down quietly on the couch next to the old man. And with everything quiet, George nodded toward Billy, rubbed his temples, and walked up to the mic. It was february , nineteen eighty George was only a month out of rehab, but he was already sliding back in familiar patterns. There was one nice thing about drying out for forty days though. It punctured a hole in his cocaine induced haze. Dee Dev andill thee old man were still hovering over his shoulder, but at least their voices weren't quite as loud . George had spent the last four hours passed out on a couch in the corner of the main track and Room at Columbia's studio B on Nashville's music row, which meant he hadn't taken a drink in four hours, which meant he was probably the most sober Billy Churrell had seen him in months. If they were ever going to finish this downer of a song, this was probably their best chance. As Billy rewound the tape in the control room, George looked around the galvanized steel hut that made up Columbia's studio B. Most artists these days like tracking in Columbia's more modern studio A. But George and Billy still liked the old Kwanzet HUD on the back of the property. The room had history . When producer Owen Bradley opened the studio in the nineteen fifty, ' it s was the first music business on the street . By the time he sold it a decade later, they were calling the block music row . The room had personal history for Billy and for George too. Here, Billy had charted the ups and downs of George and Tammy's love affair from the rosy early days with ballads like Take Me, to the hints of stormy weather and we're gonna hold on and on through the fading love of golden ring. Now, Billy's trying to get George to finish the song that he was convinced would be the perfect finale for the George and Tammy's saga, even if no one else, not even George Jones, believed it. Billy kept saying it was a song that would put George back on top . They had been working on the song for a year. George was sick of it. The song was too sad, too cheesy, and the melody was too much like Chris Christopher's helped me make it through the night, which George kept mistakenly singing, whenever he showed up sober enough to sing, that is . Billy kept having his songwriters rewrite the song over and over , and that was another thing that was bugging George. Now Billy had him doing a spoken word sect ion in the middle of the song. George hated it. No matter how stoned or how drunk he was, he could always sing . But speaking was a different story. Every time he tried to record the middle section, his words came out slur ry . George slipped on his headphones as Billy queued up the first notes of the song