The Grand Tour (26 page)

The connection with Gilley wasn't a positive one for George or any of the others involved, but George's past achievements continued earning acclaim. His signature song, “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” received another honor in June when it was added to the Library of Congress National Recording Registry. At Christmas, singer Ronnie McDowell, also a painter, delivered a painting Nancy commissioned: an updated study of the famous riding lawn mower incident that happened in Vidor in the sixties, showing the George of 2009 riding a modern John Deere from the liquor store, a police car following. His old hometown of Vidor, where many staunchly opposed renaming the Neches River Bridge for him, finally offered a token honor by adding his name to the Walk of Fame in front of its new City Hall on August 21, 2010.

As George continued to face the realities of advancing age and failing health, the notion of slowing down loomed larger. The farm, with all the work it required, was getting harder to handle given his growing physical decline. On April 6, 2011, he and Nancy put it up for sale with the asking price of $11 million. George was able to head back on the road, to play another rare political function when he did a July 2 benefit in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, for Republican gubernatorial candidate Phil Bryant, who went on to win the election in the fall.

There was another birthday celebration, at the Opry on September 13, a day after his eightieth birthday. Perhaps in recognition of his Hayride days, George received another induction on October 3, into the Louisiana Music Hall of Fame, and received the key to the city of Baton Rouge. In December, he performed at Itawamba County Community College in Mississippi for a project relating to Tammy. Another national honor came February 11, 2012, when he received the Grammy Merit Award in Hollywood with the Memphis Horns, New Orleans R&B bandleader Dave Bartholomew, and Diana Ross. Also present: Glen Campbell, whose battle against Alzheimer's disease had become public the previous year. With teleprompters and a band largely made up of family members, Campbell was still able to sing and play guitar.

Set to play Peoria, Illinois, on March 24, George endured a newspaper interview with
Pantagraph
reporter Dan Craft. Asked about retirement, George replied, “If I retire, what am I going to retire to? What would I do with my time?” The engagement never happened, the result of a chest cold that proved difficult to shake. In mid-April, his publicist announced upcoming shows, including a Canadian tour, were being postponed due to an upper respiratory infection. The idea was for him to resume performing May 20.

His return to the road never happened. On May 21, he returned to the hospital with additional respiratory problems, all part of the condition known as COPD, that began to assert itself after he came out of the cocaine haze thirty years earlier, almost surely aggravated by decades of smoking. He was discharged May 26, but it became clear his voice was failing, and his breathing problems grew more acute. The man who lived to sing, content in his life with the woman who loved and saved him, was losing the very thing that set him apart. He canceled additional concerts
throughout the summer. Even his daily mowing had to end. The pollen and allergies made it impossible, a painful sacrifice he even mentioned in interviews.

Georgette's 2011 memoir of her parents,
The Three of Us: Growing Up with Tammy and George
, raised little controversy. Father-daughter issues, however, flared in April 2012. In an Associated Press story, George complained of comments he said Georgette, now married to musician Jamie Lennon, made about him on social media, including Facebook. Money, he insisted, was at the heart of the dispute, declaring, “I have gave and gave till I can no longer give. I will never let her go hungry, but I am tired of putting out, and I am not the person they claim I am.” Defending herself, Georgette denied his accusations, saying others had misinformed him, adding he was upset that she'd reconnected with his sons Bryan and Jeff, who were long estranged from their dad. The final straw, she added, involved another wedding snub. She recalled asking George to give her away at her wedding to Lennon, received no response, and later discovered he was booked for a show that day (her twin sons did the honors).

With Glen Campbell touring the country, performing despite his affliction, and George's vocal skills faltering, the idea of a final victory lap made sense. On August 14, 2012, George and Nancy announced a series of concerts, carefully spaced apart to allow him to rest, that would constitute the “Final Grand Tour” and mark the conclusion of his performing career. The finale would be a gala all-star November 22, 2013, show at Nashville's Bridgestone Arena downtown. Things got off to a rocky start as he canceled September shows in West Virginia and South Carolina due to illness, and a makeup October 31 show in Minnesota had to be canceled again. Audiences at his concerts seemed torn as the Jones Boys and his backup singers had to frequently jump in when
he couldn't finish a vocal line, a painful spectacle for those who saw him at the peak of his vocal powers. Some fans were in tears, upset to see him struggling. Others shrugged off his ragged performances, happy to see their hero for what would surely be the last time.

It became clear from the occasional dates—and the growing difficulty he had delivering even partial performances as his lungs deteriorated and the medications weren't able to improve things—that it was unlikely he'd be able to complete the tour. On April 6, 2013, he and the band performed at the Knoxville Coliseum. He struggled mightily to get through “He Stopped Loving Her Today.” What it cost to deliver even that is impossible to determine, but when he left the stage, he said he knew that was his final show, adding, “I gave 'em hell.” He headed back to Franklin, still struggling, only to rebound around April 13, feeling better and with enough energy that he and Nancy would ride around the countryside and have dinner around four
P.M.
After that, they'd settle in so George could watch DVDs of what became his favorite TV show:
Matlock,
starring Andy Griffith as a rumpled but shrewd elderly lawyer.

When he relapsed, suffering intense pain on April 18, Nancy called an ambulance. George was taken to Vanderbilt Medical Center. He improved there, but as Nancy told an interviewer, he finally asked his doctors the big question: “Am I dying?” Told that he was, George broke into tears. The man who had beaten death almost as many times as he'd charted a record, ever since that night he got slashed at Lola's and Shorty's, had to confront his mortality, this time knowing it was final. With the courage of a man who had beaten so much in the past, he asked only for pain medication, saw his minister, and told Nancy everything that needed doing.

Remaining alert as long as possible for the time he had left was his sole priority. Alan Jackson came to visit. George wrote letters to his grandchildren and even to great-grandchildren not yet born. Nancy recalled in an interview that when she broke into tears, George, as confident in his future in the afterlife as Clara would have been, said, “What are you cryin' about? I've had eighty-one good years. Some of 'em I messed up, paid for 'em. Now, I'm goin' to heaven. I've had eighty-one good years, so don't cry, honey.” He told grandson Carlos, “You're the man of the house.” On April 26, George and Nancy talked until he lapsed into a coma. About six hours later, George Glenn Jones, the Greatest Living Country Singer, drew his final breath. Just before the end, Nancy recalled his final words, certain he was introducing himself to God.

“Hiya. I've been looking for you. I'm George Jones.”

When friends and the media found out, the reaction was not unlike the public response to Johnny Cash's passing. The entire music industry—country, pop, and beyond—stopped to pay tribute. The Opry reworked its Friday-night show to become a George Jones memorial, everyone singing his songs. The Saturday-night Opry continued the tribute. The arrangements were announced, and the May 1 viewing at Woodlawn-Roesch-Patton Funeral Home brought a raft of friends and fellow performers including Alan Jackson, perhaps his closest friend among the young traditionalists, Randy Travis, Ralph Stanley, Steve Wariner, and Joe Diffie. He would be buried in the Woodlawn Memorial Park in Nashville's Berry Hill section, where, years earlier, George and Nancy had purchased a large family burial plot.

Even the Ryman, where George had first performed nearly fifty-seven years before, wouldn't do as a site for the funeral. The Celebration of Life took place at the Opry House on May 2, 2013.
Garth Brooks and his wife, Trisha Yearwood, sat with Nancy and her family. The cast of nonmusic dignitaries was impressive and included former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee, Laura Bush, and occasional country singer and CBS
Face the Nation
host Bob Schieffer, a lifelong fan. In his eulogy, Schieffer said, “We all wanted to sing—everybody wanted to sing—like George Jones,” he said. “But nobody could sing like George Jones, unless you
were
George Jones. You couldn't—because you hadn't been through what
he
had been through.” Laura Bush thought back to the early years. “A hot-tempered father who was made mean by too much to drink, and a kind and long-suffering mother. Pain and love. George Jones spoke of them both whenever he sang a note. He sang from his heart and his soul. He sang for his supper in clubs and bars around Beaumont. And it was only a few short years from the streets of Beaumont to recording contracts, the radio, and the bright lights of the Grand Ole Opry.”

The music matched the occasion. Opry stalwarts Vince Gill and Patty Loveless, both close to George, teamed for “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” the ballad Gill began writing after fellow singer Keith Whitley died and finished after the death of his own brother. Overcome with emotion, Gill had serious trouble maintaining his composure as he sang, Loveless patting his shoulder as he strummed his acoustic guitar. Long known as a formidable instrumentalist, he began a solo that said nearly as much as his vocals. Charlie Daniels eulogized George and then sang a song George no doubt heard when he was a boy: the traditional hymn “Softly and Tenderly.” “With young singers who tried to emulate George Jones it was an affectation, while with George it was a God-given natural talent,” he said. He marveled at the way his friend would “hold on to a word, teasin' it, turnin' it, and make you wonder where he could possibly go with it. But then just at
the right second he'd turn it loose and you'd just kinda smile, and admire . . . He sang for us all.” The always outspoken Daniels also took a shot at “cookie cutter sameness” that brought applause.

Travis Tritt sang an acoustic rendition of Kris Kristofferson's “Why Me, Lord?” He recalled being on a movie set in Spain when he heard of Tammy's death, marveling at the fact that George outlived Tammy (not all that much a surprise considering her own health issues). Alan Jackson, not surprisingly, reprised “He Stopped Loving Her Today.” The two had been close to the end, George never forgetting the way Jackson had stepped in to settle the score at the 1999 CMA awards. Amid all the traditionalists, Jackson seemed to have absorbed the most. Although at times Jackson's voice seemed shaky, his rendition conveyed the essence of what George and Billy Sherrill had done through all the hard moments, and he managed to capture the true essence of the original down to the little bends and breaks that were George's trademark. The applause exploded at the end. George was buried in the family plot at Woodlawn.

Seeing her youngest son falter so often during her lifetime, George's mother, Clara, feared that she'd “made a failure.” In her time, it may have seemed that way. But in the end, the kid from the Thicket had realized all his hopes and dreams, battled and conquered his demons, and finally departed the stage in triumph. The voice that moved tens of millions over several generations had finally been stilled, and yet it was everywhere.

T
he modest bronze plaque marking his final resting place at Woodlawn Memorial Park was strictly temporary. Soon an artist's rendering of the permanent memorial would be erected behind George's grave. He wouldn't rest for eternity in a crypt in an indoor mausoleum like Tammy's, also at Woodlawn, or in a stand-alone edifice like the one Buck Owens built in Bakersfield, raffishly dubbed “Buck's Place.” His grave site wouldn't be a large, sedate affair like Roy Acuff's at Nashville's Spring Hill Cemetery or Bill Monroe's in Kentucky. Acting on ideas she said George began formulating before he died, Nancy unveiled the plaque to a crowd assembled at the site on November 18, four days before the concert at the Bridgestone Arena. Billy Sherrill was among the attendees.

Topping the massive, elaborate stone memorial was an arch with
the name
JONES
carved into it.
HE STOPPED LOVING HER TODAY
was inscribed into a section beneath the name. A large left pillar included an engraved portrait with homilies about his musical gifts. In the middle was a guitar sculpture, the inscription
THE POSSUM
, and an engraved photo of George and Nancy. Identical carved stone vases sat at the foot of the monument. His grave, a full-length bronze marker, featured four etchings taken from photos, one showing the adolescent Glenn with his guitar on the streets in Beaumont. Another shot from the darker years depicted him in aviator shades. Two others were lion-in-winter shots from later in life. An adjacent space was reserved for Nancy, and two benches flanked the graves. It was, in some ways, a more modern variation on the elaborate Hank and Audrey Williams grave in Montgomery, Alabama.

At the event, Nancy also announced the creation of the George Jones Memorial Scholarship at Middle Tennessee State University, available to financially challenged students in the school's well-regarded Department of Recording Industry, which also offered a course in George's life and music. The list of requirements noted that “Preference will also be given to letters that express some knowledge of or interest in country music, such as that of George Jones.” He would like that.

The November 22 Bridgestone Arena concert, titled “Playin' Possum: The Final No-Show,” was revised into an all-star memorial show. The title alone reflected how time had softened the once-sour memories of George's bad behavior into an affectionate part of country folklore, like Cash's wildness, Hank's tragic Lost Highway, Willie's pot smoking, and Patsy's hell-raising. With the concert sold out, an outdoor video setup projected the show to a crowd outside the downtown Nashville venue. The lineup was a generation-spanning Nashville who's who encompassing, among others, Brad Paisley, Charlie Daniels, Garth Brooks, Lorrie Morgan, Montgomery Gentry, Eric Church, Ray Stevens, Blake Shelton, Miranda Lambert, Larry Gatlin, and two of George's oldest Opry friends, Little Jimmy Dickens and Jimmy C. Newman. The show included a surprise or two, including Jamey Johnson with the metal band Megadeth, not exactly perceived as George Jones fans.

The outpouring of love and admiration for George would not alter the direction of the music itself. Taylor Swift had finally established the youth market that country producers had tried and failed to create for decades even as she was about to pivot to more mainstream pop. The formulaic nonsense George had long hated continued to proliferate in the form of “bro-country.” This successful but intensely controversial formula centered around male singers singing vapid ditties about hot girls, partying, boozing, pickup trucks, and related areas. Most of these acts seemed incapable of infusing these throwaway songs with any degree of emotion or nuance. Others, even George's friend Kenny Chesney, focused on tunes heavy on beach themes, a sound Jimmy Buffett made popular decades earlier. Creativity in Nashville came from a few individualists like Eric Church or Jamey Johnson, who refused to follow the formulas. Also unwilling to play the game: earthier female stars like Miranda Lambert and Lee Ann Womack and newcomer Kacey Musgraves. Traditionalists and younger, edgier acts would continue to draw deeply from George's sound.

Meanwhile, the Nashville of his peak years literally became a museum piece. The Country Music Hall of Fame occupies a massive new high-tech facility on Demonbreun Street downtown with a new Omni Hotel in its rear. RCA's famous Studio A, where so many Nashville Sound classics were recorded, lives on as a working studio, a unit of the Hall of Fame. The Columbia stu
dios where George recorded from the fifties on were repurposed as offices and storage after the label quit maintaining studios in 1982, ending the days of Studio A and Studio B, the famous Quonset Hut where George and Billy did much of their greatest work. Both were eventually resurrected as studios. Belmont University restored the Quonset Hut with funding from the Curb Family Foundation, established by Curb Records owner Mike Curb. Studio A followed in 2015. Both are part of Belmont's Curb College of Entertainment and Music Business, whose many alumni include Brad Paisley, Steven Curtis Chapman, and Trisha Yearwood.

George, who'd had his first museum in his Chuckwagon Cafe in the sixties, was thinking along those terms again before he died. Nancy set to making that a reality. On April 24, 2015, the George Jones Museum opened at 128 Second Avenue North in Nashville, a couple doors down from the Wild Horse Saloon and only three blocks from the Ryman, Tootsie's, and the site of George's original Possum Holler. The Johnny Cash Museum is a couple blocks away. In a four-story, 44,000-square-foot space, exhibits cover George's entire life, his boyhood in the Thicket, his years on the radio and in the clubs. His many awards, old Nudie outfits including the “White Lightning” suit, a coat from his marine days, and even the jacket cut off him after the 1999 crash are prominently displayed. Visitors can gaze on a mid-sixties John Deere riding mower much like the model he rode to the liquor store in Vidor and examine a pair of the “Possum Panties” sold at the second, Baggott-owned Possum Holler. There's the usual gift shop, a theater and event space, even a rooftop bar with a prime view of the Cumberland River. An interactive booth allows visitors to sing along with videos of George singing his hits.

Served and sold on site: George Jones White Lightning Moonshine, manufactured by Silver Trail Distillery, already earning praise for its quality. The notion of a museum selling moonshine to celebrate the life of a man nearly destroyed by liquor startled many who knew of George's demons and caused them to wonder if he'd have approved such a thing. Apparently so. The rear label, an early-sixties photo (actually the same cover shot from the album
George Jones Sings Like the Dickens!
), features a 2012 quote from George: “Alcohol has owned me and controlled me much of my life. Now is my time to own it.”

Time would claim more of his contemporaries and friends. Ray Price, the Hank Williams protégé and Texas honky-tonk innovator with whom George wrote “You Done Me Wrong,” passed in late 2013 after battling pancreatic cancer. Known for his stubbornness, he recorded a final album after his diagnosis and performed as long as he could. Jimmy C. Newman passed away in mid-2014. George's longtime buddy Little Jimmy Dickens, “Tater,” who came to his aid at his first Opry appearance and partied with him on the road, died the second day of 2015 at ninety-four. Opry veteran Jim Ed Brown died in June 2015.

Whatever country becomes as the twenty-first century progresses, the legacies of past greats remain embedded in the music's DNA, whether future stars and fans remember or not. It's inevitable veteran acts will fade as time passes. A small, slowly expanding group, however, some still living at this time, will endure. Jimmie, Acuff, Monroe, Hank Sr., Cash, Patsy, Dolly, Loretta, Buck, Glen Campbell, Tammy, Marty Robbins, Waylon, Willie, and Haggard all remain touchstones, their music and narratives powerful reminders of what the music, despite the fad du jour, was and is supposed to embody.

George Jones stands in the forefront of that group, his stature secure even as his mystique and historical place continues to evolve. Beyond the demons and the triumphs, the legends and
stories true and false, his music remains his most powerful monument. What began at that slam-bang 1954 session in Jack Starns's Beaumont home and stretched over six decades, issued on vinyl 78s, 45s, and LPs, then on compact disc, endures even as technologies change. Now that natural, unfettered emotion flows digitally through wired and wireless conduits, via Apple Music, iTunes, Spotify, Amazon, Pandora, and similar music services of today and into the future, to be discovered and savored by current generations and those to come.