Original subtitles

[Bobby Horton's "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" playing]

Bill Anderson: Country music has always been a family.

♪

I think one of the things that drew us together

in the early days, we were not the toast of the town.

We sought comfort and strength and solace

in being close with one another.

It was kind of an "us against them" mentality, really.

♪

[Train bell ringing]

Narrator: On May 26, 1953,

the 20th anniversary of the death of Jimmie Rodgers,

more than 30,000 people flooded into his hometown

of Meridian, Mississippi, to celebrate the man

considered by many as the father of country music.

Man: You've heard their records.

We'll all remember the original Carter family.

Let's bring 'em out... The original Carter family.

Narrator: An array of country stars turned out.

A.P., Sara, and Maybelle Carter appeared together

for the first time in 10 years.

A.P. Carter: I guess you people have kindly forgotten

the old Carter family name.

You know, a good many years ago, the Carter family

and Jimmie Rodgers was two of the old first acts

that started in Bristol.

Narrator: Bluegrass innovator Bill Monroe

and his brother Charlie put aside

their long-standing feud for the day.

Ralph Peer, who had done more than anyone

to record both hillbilly and so-called "race" music

in its early days, was there, as well.

Singing star Hank Snow, a Rodgers acolyte,

unveiled a new monument to the man Meridian

had once considered a worthless drifter.

Rodgers "led the way for all of us," snow proclaimed.

He "handed it over to Hank Williams",

who bridged the gap between hillbilly and popular music."

Only 5 months earlier, the industry had been shocked

by the passing of Hank Williams,

who, like Rodgers, had died young.

The memorial for Jimmie Rodgers may have brought the family

of country music together, but in 1953, a new generation

of Americans was hungry for something different.

♪

[Chuck Berry's "Maybellene" playing]

Berry: ♪ Maybellene, why can't you be true? ♪

♪ Oh, Maybellene ♪

♪ why can't you be true? ♪

♪ You done started doing the things you used to do ♪

♪ as I was motivatin' over the hill ♪

♪ I saw Maybellene in a coup de ville... ♪

Narrator: In the 1950s and early 1960s,

radio was segregated, like the rest of American society.

Rhythm and blues played on stations

presumably for black audiences.

Country and western was heard on stations

presumably listened to by whites,

but in truth, on each side of the racial divide,

young people were tuning in to, and buying, both.

Darius Rucker: And a lot of times in this community

or that community, you're told, "you can listen to this.

"You can't listen to that.

"You know, we don't listen to that.

We don't listen to this," but you know what?

People that are buying music, listening to music

are a lot more open than you think they are.

Berry: ♪ oh, maybelline, why can't you be true? ♪

♪ You done started back doing the things you used to do ♪

Narrator: With its diverse and tangled roots,

from Appalachian ballads and gospel

to cowboy songs and the blues,

country music had always been a mixture of influences.

Now it would have to adapt again.

Two strong-willed women would come to Nashville

and become friends on their way to becoming legends.

♪ I go out walkin'... ♪

Narrator: One was a brash and outspoken Virginian

who would specialize in tender songs

of almost excruciating heartache.

The other was a coal miner's daughter from Kentucky

whose music had an unapologetic twang.

♪

Two gifted songwriters would inspire others to join them

and help establish Nashville as a capital of songwriting,

while two producers would try to smooth out

the music's rough edges, creating a sound

that would be named for the city itself.

[Elvis Presley's "Mystery Train" playing]

But the sonic explosion that would both spring

from country music and rock it to its core

would include a poor boy from Mississippi

and a restless, dark-eyed young man from rural Arkansas

with an unmistakable deep voice

and a voracious passion for every type of American music.

Their new sound would originate not in Nashville,

but farther west in Tennessee along the Mississippi River

in Memphis, where a pioneer record producer believed that

this music could be away to bring the races together.

Marty Stuart: Only 240 miles apart

but universes apart when it comes to music.

Presley: ♪ train, train... ♪

Stuart: Memphis has always had a little more soul,

more horn-driven, more blues-driven.

It's not a country town. It's a river town.

Presley: ♪ comin' round, round the bend... ♪

There's just a magic that comes up

from the delta and that surrounding country.

It's in the gumbo down there.

Presley: ♪ well, it took my baby ♪

♪ but it never will again, never will again ♪

♪ ooh, ooh, Whoo! ♪

♪

[Jackie Brenston & his Delta Cats' "Rocket 88" playing]

Narrator: In 1954, a newly wed couple arrived in Memphis

to begin their life together.

He was from Dyess, Arkansas,

22 years old, and just out of the U.S. Air Force.

His young bride was from San Antonio.

Johnny Cash had chosen Memphis

because his older brother Roy lived there,

where he had a job at a car dealership.

Rosanne Cash: Roy took my dad down to where he worked.

There were two mechanics in the bay...

Marshall Grant and Luther Perkins.

Marshall told me that he looked up from the car

he was working on and he saw my dad standing in the doorway,

this kind of skinny, black-haired,

restless young guy, and Marshall said a chill

started at the top of his head and went right down his spine.

It was like he knew... He knew something...

And dad came over to him and said,

"Roy says you boys play a little guitar,"

and Marshall said, "very little," and he said,

"well, we ought to get together and play sometime."

Narrator: But Cash's first priority was finding a job,

and he soon started work as a door-to-door salesman

for the home equipment company.

Rosanne Cash: He was the single worst

appliance salesman who ever lived.

You know, at one point, he went up to a door,

knocked on a door, and the housewife answered,

and he goes, "you don't want to buy anything, do you?"

Ha ha ha!

Narrator: On his rounds one day, he came across

an elderly black man playing music

on his front porch and stopped to listen.

Gus Cannon: ♪ been a poor boy a long way from home... ♪

Narrator: Gus Cannon had once played

in traveling medicine shows and had been leading a jug band

on Memphis' Beale street when Ralph Peer

had recorded him back in the 1920s.

Cash struck up a friendship and sometimes

brought along his own guitar to play with him.

Rosanne Cash: Playing guitar with Gus Cannon,

slave songs and blues meet the delta, gospel.

Somehow Appalachia gets filtered in there.

That's it. That's country music.

Cannon: ♪ she cried, "the bucket got..." ♪

Narrator: Music had always provided both solace

and an escape from the harsh realities

of life for Johnny Cash.

♪

He was born in 1932,

in the midst of the great depression,

the son of an Arkansas sharecropper

too poor to pay the states poll tax to vote

and a pious mother who played piano 3 times a week

at worship services in the Baptist church.

His parents said that they had been unable to agree on a name

for their third son, so they settled on the initials J.R.

In 1935, they moved from south central Arkansas

to the Dyess colony, a resettlement community

created by President Franklin Roosevelt's new deal.

It offered families a fresh start by providing homes,

20 acres of land, and small stipends for food and clothing,

all of which the colonists repaid

once they had cleared the trees for their fields

and began raising crops.

Young J.R. Was picking cotton by the age of 8.

Announcer: Now here's that well-known

and better-loved family of radio the Carter family...

A.P., Sarah, Maybelle, Jeanette,

Helen, June, and Anita,

and it looks like we're on the sunny side.

Narrator: Their home had no electricity,

and their only luxury was a battery-powered radio.

Their lives were really hard, and the radio

at the end of a day, even though it was limited

because they had to save the battery,

that was the light in his life,

hearing the Carter family on the radio,

all of that, the blues, and gospel.

Carters: ♪ somebody's boy is wandering alone... ♪

Roseanne Cash: As a child, music was survival.

Carters: That their old home is waiting him there ♪

Narrator: J.R. Had always looked up to his brother Jack,

who said his life's ambition was to be a minister,

but in 1944, Jack was killed when he was cutting fence posts

and the saw blade ripped into his stomach.

[Bobby Horton's "poor wayfarin' stranger" playing]

"I'm going to the light," he told the family as he died.

"Can you hear the angels singing?

Listen, mama. Can you hear them?"

Rosanne Cash: They had to work the cotton fields

the day after Jack's funeral.

She would go a little ways and then drop to her knees

and say, "I can't go on"...

♪

And then they would sing a spiritual.

♪

Narrator: J.R.'s relationship with his father,

who could be cruel and distant, was already strained.

Now it worsened.

Once, after drinking heavily, ray Cash told his teenaged son,

"too bad it wasn't you instead of Jack."

J.R. retreated into books about American history

and the poems of Edgar Allen Poe,

went on solitary walks at night and returned from one

to tell his mother he would honor Jack's memory

by becoming a gospel singer.

♪

After graduating from high school in 1950,

Cash joined the air force and listed his name as John.

He was stationed in Germany, where he monitored

the high-speed morse code transmission

of Soviet bombers for 3 years.

In off hours, he learned to play some basic guitar chords,

filled sheets of paper with song lyrics,

dreamed of starting his own band,

and wrote daily letters to Vivian Liberto,

a pretty and petite Italian-American girl

he had met during his training

at an air force base near San Antonio.

♪

Cash returned to the states in the summer of 1954.

He and Vivian were married.

It was then they decided to make their move to Memphis.

Soon, he and Marshall Grant and Luther Perkins

were gathering each night at Grant's home to play music...

Some Hank Williams songs, but mostly gospel...

While their wives played cards in the kitchen.

Their skills were limited.

The only instrument any of them played was the guitar,

and no one was particularly good at it...

Rufus Thomas: ♪ well, you ain't... ♪

Narrator: But Memphis in 1954 would prove

the best possible place and the best possible time

for them to get good at it.

Thomas: ♪ been scratchin' at my door... ♪

Rosanne Cash: Memphis in the fifties was just this hot stew.

All the guys coming up listened to WDIA,

and B.B. King was a disc jockey,

and they heard this "race" music

and were so profoundly influenced by it

that you can say that that station

and that music changed the course of modern country music.

Thomas: ♪ you ain't nothin' but a bear cat ♪

♪ been scratchin' at my door... ♪

Bobby Braddock: There was a saying...

"the blues had a baby, and they called it rock and roll,"

and I always said, "yeah, and I think

the daddy was the hillbilly," you know.

Presley: ♪ well, that's all right, mama... ♪

Narrator: The most popular tune on Memphis radio that summer

was a song written by Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup,

a delta blues musician whose original release had enjoyed

only limited success on rhythm and blues stations,

but this new version was sung by a white teenager

with long sideburns, slicked-back hair,

and an almost angelic tenor voice.

His name was Elvis Aron Presley.

Presley: ♪ that's all right now, mama ♪

♪ any way you do ♪

Narrator: He'd been born in Tupelo, Mississippi,

and, like J.R. Cash, grew up listening

to every kind of music on the radio,

from hillbilly tunes and gospel music he loved as a boy

to the blues by muddy waters.

In 1954, Presley was driving a truck in Memphis

when he stopped at 706 Union Avenue,

the home of tiny Sun Records.

Its owner, Sam Phillips, had previously recorded

rhythm and blues artists, like B.B. King and Howlin' Wolf.

Phillips had paired Elvis with two musicians

from a hillbilly band called the starlite wranglers

but initially was unimpressed with the tunes

they were playing until they started fooling around

with Big Boy Crudup's "that's all right, mama."

Presley: ♪ I'm leaving town, baby ♪

♪ I'm leaving town for sure ♪

♪ well, then you won't be bothered ♪

♪ with me hangin' round your door ♪

♪ but that's all right... ♪

Narrator: "It's not black. It's not white."

"It's not pop. It's not country,"

Phillips said when he shared it with a local deejay,

who played it over and over

as calls flooded the station for more.

Phillips quickly scheduled another session.

Once again, Presley struggled

to come up with something distinctive.

Bill Monroe: ♪ blue moon of Kentucky ♪

♪ keep on shinin' ♪

Narrator: They all knew Bill Monroe's lilting waltz

"Blue Moon of Kentucky"

and started clowning around with it.

Presley: ♪ blue moon, blue moon ♪

♪ blue moon, keep shinin' bright ♪

♪ blue moon, keep on shinin' bright ♪

♪ you're gonna bring me back my baby tonight ♪

♪ blue moon, keep shinin' bright... ♪

Narrator: "Hell," Phillips said when they finished,

"that's different."

Presley: ♪ shine on the one ♪

♪ that's gone and left me blue... ♪

Narrator: The single that Sun Records rushed out

became a regional phenomenon.

Rhythm and blues stations played "that's all right,"

while country stations focused on "blue moon of Kentucky."

It was enough to earn Presley an invitation

to play at the Grand Ole Opry.

The audience responded politely at best,

while some Opry regulars grumbled

that he had desecrated Monroe's classic song.

Charlie Daniels: The first time I heard Elvis Presley,

I hated him because I was into bluegrass music,

and I was bluegrass to the bone back then,

and he sang "Blue Moon of Kentucky,"

one of my favorite Bill Monroe songs, and...

♪ A-buh buh buh buh... ♪

I thought, "what's he doing to my song?" You know?

Presley: ♪ stars shinin' bright ♪

♪ whispered on high ♪

♪ love said good-bye ♪

♪ blue moon of Kentucky, keep on shinin'... ♪

Stuart: Monroe didn't like it much when he first heard it.

He thought they were not doing the right thing

by way of his music until the first royalty check came...

Ha! and then, I believe, Monroe's tune went to,

"I told him," if there's anything in this world

I could do to help you out, you just let me know."

Ha ha ha!

Presley: ♪ I've been traveling over miles ♪

♪ even through the valleys, too... ♪

Narrator: Presley and his music seemed too radical

for the Opry, and they did not ask him back.

Presley: ♪ baby, tryin' to get to you ♪

Narrator: Phillips then sent him to Shreveport

and the "Louisiana Hayride," which had provided

Hank Williams a platform when no one else would.

The "Hayrides" audience loved him

and called him the hillbilly cat.

Presley: ♪ that you really love me true ♪

♪ lord above me knows I love you ♪

♪ it was he who brought me through... ♪

Narrator: A newspaper marveled at what it called

"a white man's voice singing negro rhythms."

Back in Memphis, Sam Phillips put it another way.

"I went out," he said,

"and knocked the shit out of the color line."

♪

In late 1954, Phillips arrived at work to find Johnny Cash

sitting in the doorway asking for an audition.

Ralph Emery: There was something in his voice,

and I guess Sam heard it.

He thought maybe he could make lightning strike twice.

John wanted to be a gospel singer, and Sam didn't...

He said, "I can't sell gospel records."

Write something that's not gospel, and I'll cut it."

Narrator: Cash put a simple melody to a poem he had written

about coming home on the train, "Hey Porter,"

and began practicing

with Luther Perkins on a borrowed electric guitar

and Marshall Grant, who was learning to play bass.

"There's something squirrely about you guys," Phillips said

when he heard their stripped-down style,

but he admitted, "it's different."

Johnny Cash: ♪ hey, Porter, hey, Porter ♪

♪ what time did you say? ♪

♪ How much longer will it be ♪

♪ till I can see the light of day? ♪

♪ When we hit Dixie, will you tell that engineer ♪

♪ to ring his bell ♪

♪ and ask everybody that ain't asleep ♪

♪ to stand right up and yell? ♪

They called themselves

Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two.

Johnny Cash: Hello, folks.

This is Johnny Cash, and I'd like to introduce you

to the other two boys here.

This is Luther Perkins over here

hitting all those hard notes on that guitar...

[guitar plays]

Oh, so, Luther...

And Marshall Grant hitting the low notes

on this bass fiddle over here.

♪ Gonna have to strain my eyes, but ask that engineer... ♪

Elvis Costello: His voice is singular.

Tennessee Two, that's like a punk band,

you know, if you think about it.

It's like, it's so...

It's just, like, you know, the bass is so percussive

and Luther Perkins just playing, like, the 4 notes

that seem to, you know...

He seemed to only know 4 notes.

I literally think they sound like punk rock records.

I mean that as the highest compliment.

I mean, they're just so vivid.

Johnny Cash: ♪ hey, Porter, hey, Porter ♪

♪ please open up the door... ♪

Narrator: For a while, Johnny Cash

and his fellow Sun Records artist Elvis Presley

were sent out on tours together,

mostly in the south and southwest,

opening for better-known country stars.

[Hank Snow's "Among My Souvenirs" playing]

Bill C. Malone: In 1955, I was a student

at the University of Texas.

I went down to the old coliseum to see Hank Snow,

who was my favorite at the time,

and Hank had to cut his program short

in order to let Elvis have a second show.

Presley: ♪ well, I heard the news ♪

♪ there's good rockin' tonight ♪

♪ well, I heard the news... ♪

Malone: As I watched Elvis, I thought...

Well, I thought I saw the beginning

of the end of the music I loved.

Presley: ♪ let's rock, rock, rock ♪

♪ well, let's rock, rock, rock, rock ♪

♪ we're gonna rock all our blues away ♪

Narrator: Out on the road, Johnny Cash

and Presley became friends.

Elvis called Cash "old man" because Cash was 3 years older.

Cash called Presley "the shaky kid"

and sometimes impersonated him on stage.

♪ Well, it's down at the end of lonely street ♪

♪ at heartbreak hotel ♪

♪ I feel so... ♪

[Girls scream]

♪ You'll be so lonely ♪

♪ you'll be so lonely ♪

♪ you could die ♪

Narrator: The term used to describe the music

that had been born at Sun Records was "rockabilly,"

and it was beginning to catch on.

Johnny Cash: ♪ everybody knows where you go ♪

♪ when the sun goes down ♪

♪ I think you only live to see the lights of town ♪

♪ I wasted my time when I would try, try, try ♪

♪ 'cause when the lights have lost their glow ♪

♪ you'll cry, cry, cry ♪

Narrator: Fresh out of high school in Oklahoma City,

Wanda Jackson had started out singing

country ballads and cowboy songs.

Jackson: Y'all like love songs? Do you? Good. I like those.

This one really tells a beautiful story

if you can pay real close attention to the words,

and if you like love songs, well, we think this is one

of the most beautiful love songs that's ever been written,

and we'd like to do it especially for all of y'all.

Goes like this.

Narrator: Wanda Jackson would come to be called

the queen of rockabilly.

Do that again. That's pretty.

[Plays e major chord]

♪ Well, a hard-headed woman, a soft-hearted man ♪

♪ been the cause of trouble ever since the world began ♪

♪ and I said, oh, yeah, ever since the world began ♪

Whoo! Yeah!

♪ Well, a hard-headed woman is a thorn in the side of a man ♪

♪ well, Adam said to eve... ♪

Narrator: Rockabilly started turning up everywhere.

Roy Orbison came from the oil fields of Wink, Texas.

Jerry Lee Lewis was a flamboyant piano player

from Ferriday, Louisiana.

Buddy Holly was from Lubbock, Texas.

Harold Lloyd Jenkins turned down a contract

to play major league baseball

and began touring as Conway Twitty.

♪ And a hard-headed woman is a thorn in the side of a man ♪

♪

♪ Well, it's one for the money, two for the show ♪

♪ ♪ to get ready, now so, cat, so ♪

♪ but don't you step on my blue suede shoes... ♪

Narrator: Carl Perkins was from west Tennessee.

He became a close friend of Johnny Cash

after both men discovered they had scars

on their fingers from picking cotton.

Cash told him a story about a man he had met

in the air force who prided himself on his spiffy clothes

and always said, "don't step on my blue suede shoes."

Perkins turned that into his first big rockabilly hit.

Elvis would make it even bigger.

Presley: ♪ well, it's one for the money ♪

♪ two for the show ♪

♪ ♪ to get ready, now so, cat, so ♪

♪ but don't you step on my blue suede shoes ♪

♪ well, you can do anything ♪

♪ but stay off my blue suede shoes ♪

I think people in the beginning

didn't know what to do with him.

Do you play him country? Do you play him pop?

He was doing Bill Monroe's bluegrass song,

and then "That's Alright Mama" was a rhythm and blues piece,

and then by the time he got down to "Don't Be Cruel,"

he was gone.

Presley: ♪ lay off my blue suede shoes ♪

Narrator: Meanwhile, Johnny Cash stayed put.

He was doing well enough to buy a house in northeast Memphis

for his growing family.

Vivian had given birth to two daughters-Rosanne and Kathy.

The "Louisiana Hayride" had made him a regular,

and Marshall Grant and Luther Perkins

quit their jobs as auto mechanics.

In July of 1956, he made his first guest appearance

at the Grand Ole Opry, where someone backstage

told a reporter, "he'll be better than Elvis

"because Johnny's a true country singer

and Presley isn't and never has been."

A new single of Cash's had just become

his first number-one country hit.

It was for Vivian, who had become worried

that on his tours, he would succumb to one

of the well-known temptations of the road.

Talking about Vivian's concerns with Carl Perkins,

Cash had said that as a married man, "I walk the line."

Perkins replied, "that's your title."

Johnny Cash: ♪ I keep a close watch on this heart of mine ♪

♪ I keep my eyes wide open all the time ♪

♪ I keep the ends out for the tie that binds ♪

♪ because you're mine, I walk the line ♪

♪ mm... ♪

♪ As sure as night is dark and day is light ♪

♪ I keep you on my mind both day and night... ♪

Rosanne Cash: The song came from my mother's fear,

"you know, you're going out on the road,

and these girls are coming up to you,"

and he wrote "I Walk the Line."

"I'm going to stay true to you."

Of course, that wasn't true.

Johnny Cash: ♪ I keep a close watch ♪

♪ on this heart of mine... ♪

Narrator: Backstage at the Opry after singing

"I Walk the Line," Cash met for the first time

someone whose voice he had once heard

on his family's radio back in Dyess, Arkansas.

It was June Carter.

♪

Brenda Lee: It's all intertwined.

Country music, folk music, blues music, rock music,

you name it, they're all kind of poetry-driven,

and I think it's all intertwined.

Small packages in show business,

Miss Brenda Lee to sing her new record "Dynamite."

Hey!

Chorus: ♪ ooh la ooh la ooh la ooh la, dynamite ♪

♪ you're dynamite ♪

♪ ooh la ooh la ooh la ooh la, dynamite ♪

♪ you're dynamite ♪

♪ dynamite! ♪

♪ Hey, baby, when you kiss, it's dynamite ♪

♪ hey, baby when you hug and hold me tight ♪

♪ I just explode like dynamite ♪

They categorized me as rockabilly.

Well, I didn't know it was rockabilly.

I'm just singing songs that were given me,

singing them like I sang, and then all of a sudden,

I was rock,

and then all of a sudden, I was pop.

Then all of a sudden, I became country.

♪ Just knocks me out like dynamite ♪

When a singer is absolutely passionate about what they do,

I don't think you should pigeonhole them

because if you ask us artists,

when it's all said and done, it's music.

That's all it is.

♪ Let's make history tonight ♪

♪ the power of one hour's love delight ♪

♪ just knocks me out like dynamite ♪

♪ because you're dynamite ♪

[Applause]

Narrator: But as rock and roll took over the airwaves

and dominated record sales in the mid 1950s,

the postwar boom in country music

seemed to go bust almost overnight.

The number of stations devoted to country

shrank from 600 to about 85.

Country music just died on the vine.

You could dial your radio back and forth all the time.

You couldn't find a country song.

The general census in the country

and country-and-western community about rock and roll

was, "maybe it'll go away."

If we just hang in there long enough, it'll go away."

Narrator: On some nights, the "Grand Ole Opry"

on Nashville's WSM, which had given Elvis the cold shoulder,

found itself playing in a half-empty Ryman auditorium.

Eddie Stubbs: The fiddle in country music

was largely on life support.

If it hadn't of been for Ray Price, the fiddle

may have gone away completely in country music.

Narrator: Ray Price was an old friend of Hank Williams.

His response to the crisis in country music

was to double down, ignoring rock and roll completely

and sticking closer to his country roots.

People called it the Texas shuffle.

♪ This ain't no crazy dream, I know that it's real ♪

♪ you're someone else's love now ♪

♪ you're not mine ♪

Somebody asked old Ray one time, said,

"Ray, can you define a shuffle?"

He said, "yes."

He said, "it's a beat that makes a slow song feel fast"

♪ and that's why I'm lonely all the time ♪

Narrator: Some country artists, desperate to appear relevant

and sell records, tried to go in a different direction,

toward popular music.

Marty Robbins was one of the most successful.

Stuart: I'm named after Marty Robbins.

He was my mama's favorite singer,

and I thought he was a rock singer,

and then I found out he was a country singer.

Then I found out he was all of that.

Robbins: ♪ a white sport coat ♪

♪ and a pink carnation ♪

Narrator: "A White Sport Coat (And a Pink Carnation)"

Became a number-one country hit

and reached number two on the pop charts.

The Louvin Brothers: ♪ if I could only win your love... ♪

Narrator: The Louvin Brothers, Ira and Charlie,

came from the hill country of northeastern Alabama,

where they grew up steeped in gospel and bluegrass music.

Louvin Brothers: ♪ my heart would never stray

♪ one dream away... ♪

Narrator: They mixed their own high lonesome vocals

with a more modern accompaniment

that included an electric guitar and drum...

Louvin Brothers: ♪ to make it live... ♪

Narrator: And showed that traditional brother harmonies

could survive in the age of rock and roll.

♪

In 1957, two other brothers from Kentucky

had been trying without much success to make it

as a country duo and were thinking of calling it quits.

One day, their father, a barber,

was talking about his sons while cutting the hair

of Boudleaux Bryant, who, with his wife Felice,

were among the first professional songwriters

to establish themselves in Nashville.

Del Bryant: Used to tell my dad about his boys and said,

"you know, I've got two boys, and they really sing well.

I really wish you would listen to them."

My father would say, "yeah, yeah.

I'd like to listen to them. A little shorter here, please."

Narrator: As it turned out, the Bryants had written a song

meant for two-part harmony,

but it had been turned down by dozens of artists.

Its title was "Bye Bye Love."

The barber's boys, Don and Phil Everly,

decided to record it.

Everly Brothers: ♪ bye-bye, love ♪

♪ bye-bye, happiness ♪

♪ hello, loneliness ♪

♪ I think I'm gonna cry ♪

♪ bye-bye love... ♪

Narrator: The Everly Brothers were on a month-long tour

making only $90 a week

doing tent shows in Mississippi and Louisiana with Bill Monroe

when the song exploded on the radio.

Paul Simon: I went to buy "Bye Bye Love"

right after I heard it.

There wasn't any record store in my immediate neighborhood,

so I had to take a bus and then another bus, two busses,

to get to a record store, bought it, came home,

put it on my player,

loved it, flipped it over, played the other side,

loved it, went to play it again,

scratched the record, just mortified.

Got back on the bus,

took the second bus, went and bought another record,

couldn't, like, even wait for the next day.

I had to have it again.

I mean, it was, like, an hour ride

and then an hour ride back, and then I showed it to Artie,

and, you know, we tried to figure out

how they were singing.

♪ Bye-bye, love... ♪

Narrator: With more songs written by Felice

and Boudleaux Bryant-including "Wake Up Little Susie,"

"All I Have to do Is Dream," and "Bird Dog"...

The Everly Brothers would sell more than 30 million records

worldwide in 3 years.

[Applause]

Stubbs: Country music wasn't always recorded in Nashville.

The major label companies had studios in New York,

Chicago, the west coast, and in some cases,

they would go to Dallas, Texas, and record, as well,

but when the Bradleys, Owen and Harold Bradley,

opened their studio, everything changed here.

My brother Owen is the big daddy.

He saw the big picture. He's the architect.

Narrator: Owen Bradley, an accomplished pianist,

had led WSM's 26-piece big band orchestra.

His younger brother Harold played guitar

and as a teenager had joined Ernest Tubb's band.

When Decca Records announced their intention to record

all their artists in Dallas, the Bradleys decided to build

a bigger, newer studio of their own in Nashville

to try to keep Decca's business.

They eventually found a house

in a decaying residential neighborhood

on 16th Avenue southwest of downtown,

gutted it, and, in 1955, opened a studio

in what had been its basement.

Decca chose to stay, and soon,

other labels began using the Bradleys' studio.

Business was so good, they erected

a military-surplus quonset hut in the back yard

and equipped it as a second studio.

[Chet Atkins' "Canned Heat" playing]

Then RCA Victor built a new studio nearby

on 17th Avenue, which would be run by producer Chet Atkins.

Before long, Atkins and the Bradleys

were busy making records,

and other houses in the neighborhood

were being converted into offices of music publishers.

Eventually, the area would become known as music row.

Among the songwriters who now gravitated to Nashville

was Mel Tillis, who had grown up in rural Florida

and discovered that music and a sense of humor

helped him cope with a speech disorder.

Tillis: My daddy stuttered a little bit,

and my brother stuttered a little bit too,

and I thought, "well, that's the way we talk,"

and I started to school,

first grade at Woodrow Elementary,

Plant City, Florida,

and I came home the first day,

and I said, "mama, do I stutter?"

And she said, "yes. You do, son,"

and I said, "mama, they laughed at me,"

and she said, "well, if they're gonna laugh at you",

give them something to laugh about,"

and that was my first day, I think, in show business.

Ha ha ha!

My teacher found out that I could sing without stuttering,

and she'd take me around to the other classes,

up to the sixth grade, and let me sing.

Narrator: A year after Tillis came to Nashville,

where he helped support himself touring with Minnie Pearl,

another aspiring singer- songwriter arrived in town.

Roger Miller had grown up in Erick, Oklahoma,

a town so small, he later remembered,

"we didn't have a town drunk, so we had to take turns."

As a boy, he wrote poems and silly songs,

learned to play the fiddle,

and dreamed of leaving farm life far behind.

In 1957, he moved to Nashville,

took a job as a bellhop at the Andrew Jackson hotel,

and struggled to sell his compositions on music row.

He was standing in there with a...

Had on a little monkey outfit.

He was a bellhop,

and I asked him, I said, "you want a job?"

He said, "with who?" And I said, "Minnie Pearl."

He said, "how much does it pay?"

I said, "$18 a day."

If you do two shows, you get $36."

I said, "where are you going?"

He said, "I'm going to give"

the Andrew Jackson my two-minute notice."

Narrator: Tillis and Miller became close friends

as they hustled to find work.

I told him, I said, "you ain't never going to make it,"

you know, "writing them old, stupid songs you're writing."

He said, "you ain't gonna make it

with that damn stutter, either."

Ha ha ha! Oh...

Patsy Cline: ♪ I got as feeling 'cause I'm blue ♪

♪ oh, lord, since my daddy said good-bye ♪

♪ I don't know what I'm gonna do ♪

♪ all I do is sit and cry, oh, lord ♪

♪ that last long day he said good-bye ♪

♪ well, lord, I thought I would on; ♪

♪ he'll do you, he'll do me, he's got that kind of lovin' ♪

♪ but, lord, I love to hear him ♪

♪ when he calls me sweet baby... ♪

Narrator: When she moved to Nashville in 1959,

Patsy Cline seemed more like a throwback

to country music's past than a bridge to its future.

Many of her songs had honky tonk themes like cheating.

She could yodel as well as Hank Williams,

and she intended to be as big a star as he had been.

Virginia Patterson Hensley had been born

near Winchester, Virginia, in 1932

and dropped out of high school at age 15

after her abusive father deserted the family.

Cline: ♪ I've loved and lost again ♪

Narrator: She began singing in bars and supper clubs

to help support her mother and siblings.

Her rich voice had a remarkable power

that impressed everyone who heard it.

Cline: ♪ I've loved and lost again ♪

Narrator: By 1954, she was appearing regularly

on a country television show in Washington, D.C.

[Applause]

She married a businessman named Gerald Cline,

changed her first name to Patsy,

and signed a recording contract with a small independent label,

4 Star, which she later learned

was notorious among insiders for cheating its artists,

but the studio it used was in Nashville,

where Owen Bradley instantly recognized her talent

despite the mediocre songs her contract required her to sing.

Cline: ♪ people point us out ♪

♪ and shake their heads in shame... ♪

Harold Bradley: We tried rock and roll on the country songs.

We tried western swing.

We tried a pop piano sound on it.

They tried everything, but the songs weren't there.

Narrator: After a string of singles failed to sell,

4 Star insisted that she record a new song.

Cline resisted at first.

"It's nothing but a little, old pop song," she said,

"I hate it,"

but under Owen Bradley's guidance, she turned

"Walkin' After Midnight" into something special.

She sang it on a televised talent show,

and the exposure pushed the song

to number two on the charts.

♪ I go out walkin' after midnight ♪

♪ out in the moonlight just like we used to do ♪

♪ I'm always walkin' after midnight ♪

♪ searchin' for you... ♪

Narrator: Divorced from Gerald Cline,

she remarried and had a daughter.

The Grand Ole Opry offered her a spot in its cast.

On tour, she quickly became known

not just for her powerful voice,

but also for her equally powerful personality.

She argued with everyone, swore like a sailor,

walked out of concerts if promoters

didn't pay her and her band on time.

♪ I'm lonesome as I can be ♪

♪ I go out walkin'... ♪

Lee: Ah, yeah. Well, let me tell you,

you didn't mess with Patsy.

She'd tell you in a New York minute what she thought

and what she was gonna do and how it was gonna be done.

Narrator: Among those traveling with her

was the singing prodigy Brenda Lee.

She had been born in 1944 in a charity hospital in Georgia

into a family of sharecroppers.

Lee: ♪ one step at a time, boy ♪

♪ just one step at a time ♪

♪ well, there's just one way, boy, to be a man ♪

♪ start out young and go as fast as you can ♪

♪ and if you want to grow up to be a ripe, old age ♪

♪ stick to the book and live it page by page ♪

♪ just one step at a time, boy... ♪

I started singing professionally when I was 7.

My dad died when I was 7, and I became the primary breadwinner.

My mom was working odd jobs and doing all that she could,

working in a cotton mill 16 hours a day.

My goal was to help my mom and my siblings

get out of the situation that we were in.

♪ Just one step at a time ♪

Chorus: ♪ just one step at a time ♪

[Applause]

Narrator: She belted out Hank Williams songs in a voice

that belied her age and tiny stature,

working so many late nights, her third grade teacher

sometimes let Brenda put her head on her desk

and nap during class.

Lee: ♪ we gotta so, me, oh, my, oh... ♪

Narrator: In 1956, her television appearances

on ABC's "Ozark Jubilee" landed her a contract with Decca,

and her family moved to Nashville,

where Owen Bradley became her producer.

Harold Bradley: We started recording her when she was 11

or 12 years old, so we were cutting one day,

and we started and hardly played just 8 bars,

and she stopped, and my brother said, "hey, what's wrong?"

She said, "bass player missed a note."

Narrator: Her first single was "Jambalaya,"

and with her mother along to chaperone,

she soon began touring on package shows

that included everyone from Kitty Wells

to Chuck Berry and Patsy Cline.

["Jambalaya" playing]

[Patsy Cline's "I Cried All the Way to the Altar" playing]

Lee: I did my first big country tour.

I was going on 11.

It was Patsy Cline, George Jones,

Mel Tillis, Faron Young, the Louvin Brothers.

I think that was all,

and if you don't think I got an education...

Mel Tillis drove the car...

Back then, we didn't have buses.

We all were in station wagons or cars or whatever.

I was driving, and Brenda Lee's in the back seat,

and we'd be out in the desert, you know, somewhere

at nighttime, at 3:00 in the morning,

and she'd stand up there and put her arms on the back seat,

you know, and tell me little jokes and stuff.

She'd keep me awake, little Brenda.

Cline: ♪ I cried all the way to the altar... ♪

And I got to be friends with patsy, and patsy, I think,

was 13 years older than I was, so she was kind of like

a big, old sister to me, and I'd go to her house,

and she'd let me clomp around in her cowboy boots

and try her spangledy-dangledy outfits on,

and, boy, I was in heaven, and she...

As I like to say, in the kindest sense of the word,

she was a great broad.

Cline: ♪ wrong to part ♪

[Bobby Horton's "Tom Dooley" playing]

Malone: I think country musicians...

Regardless of how you define them,

whether you call them hillbillies

or country or whatever...

They were not isolated from the world.

Nostalgia has been one of the basic staples of country music

throughout its history because there was a realistic awareness

that the old way of life was disappearing.

People were moving to new ways of life.

The values, institutions that the people grew up with

were vanishing...

♪

And so as they receded into the past,

the people began to commemorate them,

to write songs about them.

The Kingston Trio: ♪ hang down your head, Tom Dooley... ♪

Narrator: In 1959, at the inaugural ceremony

of the grammy awards, the winner

for best country and western performance went to a group

totally unlike anything associated with Nashville.

Kingston Trio: ♪ hang down your head, Tom dooley... ♪

Narrator: It was the Kingston Trio,

3 clean-cut college graduates,

singing an old murder ballad from North Carolina.

It had first been recorded in the 1920s.

Now, "Tom Dooley" was sweeping the nation.

Kingston Trio: ♪ hang down your head and cry ♪

♪ hang down your head, Tom Dooley... ♪

Malone: It was just a huge, huge hit,

and it set off a hunger, an enthusiasm for old songs,

both real and newly made.

[Playing "El Paso"]

♪ Out in the west Texas town of El Paso ♪

♪ I fell in love with a Mexican girl... ♪

Narrator: When Marty Robbins wrote his western ballad.

"El Paso," he told his producer,

"this won't sell 500 records,

but it's something I've always wanted to do."

Robbins had grown up in an impoverished barrio in Arizona

listening to his maternal grandfathers stories

about cowboys and learning to love Mexican corrido music.

He named the woman in his song Faleena

in honor of a girl he had met in fifth grade.

Robbins: ♪ from out of nowhere, Faleena has found me... ♪

Narrator: Robbins' label told him that at 4 1/2 minutes,

the song was much too long

ever to be played on the radio...

♪ Something is dreadfully wrong, for I feel ♪

♪ a deep, burning pain in my side... ♪

Narrator: But as 1959 ended, "El Paso" was headed

to number one on the country and pop charts.

6 of the top 10 country songs that year had been story songs.

[Applause]

♪

Lefty Frizzell: ♪ 10 years ago ♪

♪ on a cold, dark night ♪

♪ there was someone killed 'neath the town hall light... ♪

Narrator: Lefty Frizzell had once challenged Hank Williams

for supremacy in the world of honky tonk,

but as rock and roll took off, he had failed to chart a hit.

Now he had one.

His new song seemed to spring from another century

but, in fact, had just been written

by Danny Dill and Marijohn Wilkin.

Stuart: I loved rock and roll,

but that was the kind of song that captivated my heart.

It made me want to play country music.

It knew more about me than I knew about it.

Frizzell: ♪ the judge said, "son, what is your alibi? ♪

♪ "If you were somewhere else ♪

♪ then you won't have to die" ♪

♪ I spoke not a word ♪

♪ though it meant my life ♪

♪ for I had been in the arms ♪

♪ of my best friend's wife ♪

♪ she walks these hills ♪

♪ in a long, black veil ♪

♪ she visits my grave ♪

♪ when the night winds wail ♪

♪ nobody knows ♪

♪ nobody sees ♪

♪ nobody knows but me ♪

Rosanne Cash: "Long Black Veil," I thought,

was a perfect country song.

It had everything.

It was a ghost story.

The scene was laid out.

There was a death, the scaffold, the judge,

her veil, the graveyard.

I mean, it was chilling in every way.

It's like Stephen Foster's "Hard Times."

It's bedrock.

You can't imagine the fabric of music without these songs.

Frizzell: ♪ nobody knows but me ♪

♪ mm mm mm mm... ♪

[Camera shutter clicks]

Narrator: By 1959, Johnny Cash was a star,

and he had moved Vivian and his growing family

from Memphis to a sprawling house in southern California.

Only 5 years earlier, he had been making $50 a week

as an appliance salesman.

Now he was on track to bring in 250,000 a year.

Cash had left Sun Records to sign with Columbia,

a bigger label that not only promised him a $50,000 bonus

and a better royalty rate,

but also greater creative freedom

in choosing what songs to record.

Johnny Cash: ♪ I looked over Jordan, and what did I see ♪

♪ coming for to carry me home... ♪

Narrator: And just as he had promised his mother

after his brother Jack's death,

he was able to release an album of gospel songs.

Johnny Cash: ♪ swing low ♪ chorus: ♪ swing low ♪

♪ sweet chariot ♪ ♪ chariot ♪

♪ coming for to carry me home... ♪

Narrator: He soon followed it with his first concept album,

"songs of our soil,"

filled with stories of hardship and death.

Johnny Cash: ♪ tell all my friends... ♪

Jack's death was central to everything.

Even in the end of my grandmother's life,

my dad went up every year on the day of Jack's death

and sat with his mother all day,

and they just sat together.

And dad always said that he dreamed of Jack his whole life

and Jack would age as he did.

Jack was always two years older than he was.

Johnny Cash: ♪ ...Me home ♪

Narrator: Like every other singing star,

Cash spent most of his time traveling

from one performance to another.

Every night, he would call Vivian to say how much he missed her and the girls,

to reassure her that he was being faithful,

though in truth, Marshall Grant found it necessary

to constantly remind his friend that he was a married man,

but the road, Cash said,

"meant adventure, creativity, and freedom."

[Crowd cheering]

♪ Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry ♪

♪ and I showed the clouds how to cover up ♪

Ia clear, blue sky... ♪

Rosanne Cash: He was addicted to it, you know.

If he was home more than 10 days,

he started to get very restless,

had to get back out there again.

They would get in a car and drive 200 miles and do a show,

sometimes drive and do two, 3, 4 shows a day,

then drive all night, get someplace,

do it again, afternoon show,

evening show, drive all night,

over and over.

Well, somebody finally said to dad, you know,

when he was at the point of utter exhaustion,

"here's how you get through it. You take this pill."

That was it.

That's how he got through it.

Narrator: One of Cash's signature songs

was "Folsom Prison Blues."

Many fans assumed the song had been drawn

from his own personal experience.

Cash had never served time in prison,

but felt a special connection with those who had.

♪ But I shot a man in Reno ♪

♪ just to watch him die ♪

Narrator: On New Year's Day 1959,

Cash performed that at California's maximum-security

facility at San Quentin.

Sitting in the audience was a young inmate

who had already busted out of juvenile detention centers 17 times.

Merle Haggard: Johnny Cash had blown his voice the night before

at a New Year's eve party in San Francisco and he didn't...

Had nothing but a whisper, but with that only,

he was able to totally subdue the crowd

and just-and in competition with strippers

and all kinds of things, 8-hour show,

and I was really worried for him

because men are cruel in San Quentin.

They don't applaud unless they like you.

But they were crazy about him.

Johnny Cash: ♪ well, if they freed me from this prison ♪

♪ if that railroad train was mine ♪

♪ I bet I'd move it all a little further down the line ♪

♪ far from folsom prison ♪

♪ that's where I want to stay... ♪

Haggard: He identified with us,

and he was the kind of guy

that might have been in there with us

had things gone the wrong way for him.

Narrator: Merle Haggard decided that if he ever got out of prison,

he would try to follow in Johnny Cash's footsteps.

[Cheers and applause]

["Devoted to You" by the Everly Brothers playing]

Everly Brothers: ♪ darling, you can count on me... ♪

Bryant: My parents probably could not have made it

in the creative industry that they chose to operate in

if they hadn't loved each other so dearly.

Everly Brothers: ♪ ...Always be ♪

♪ devoted... ♪

She gave him incredible ideas.

She had a tremendous amount of talent, he could polish,

he could finish,

and she made him finish and kept him excited.

My mother wanted it more than my father.

My father wanted my mother more than anything.

Everly Brothers: ♪ devoted to you ♪

Narrator: Boudleaux and Felice Bryant's success

writing hit songs for the Everly brothers had allowed them

to move from a tiny trailer

on the outskirts of Nashville into a real house,

and more artists were now interested

in what they could offer.

Boudleaux had once written song ideas on scraps of paper

he stuffed in his pockets,

until one day, 14 new songs were lost

when his raincoat disappeared.

His friend Chet Atkins bought him a leather-bound ledger,

similar to the kind Stephen Foster had used, he said,

and the Bryants became more systematic about their writing,

filling ledger after ledger with songs they pitched

to producers and artists in a setting

that always worked for them,

over a steaming plate of Felice's spaghetti.

Bryant: There weren't many Sicilians in Nashville,

and she was an incredible cook.

So the fixings were there.

The folks would arrive. The wine would be poured.

The people were just waiting for the meal

because you could smell it throughout the house,

and no one had had food like this,

this good of that type.

And so you'd eat, you would drink,

and then they would bring out their books,

the ledgers that they wrote in.

He would find something they liked.

They really sold hard and fed well.

Narrator: Over time, more than 900 of the Bryants' songs

would be recorded,

selling more than half a billion records worldwide.

Meanwhile, other writers in Nashville

pushed their work at a hangout on lower Broadway

called Tootsie's Orchid Lounge.

Its back door opened onto the alleyway

near the artists' entrance to the Ryman auditorium.

Hattie Louise "Tootsie" Bess, the proprietress,

had a big heart for songwriters,

but little patience for troublemakers.

Tom T. Hall: She wore her hair in kind of a bun, as I remember,

and kept a big hat-pin in there,

and she'd take it, and if somebody got out of hand,

she'd take it and leave about that much of it sticking out,

and she'd just walk up and hit him in the butt with it,

and she got the attention of some pretty rowdy

songwriters in those days.

I never got... I never got stuck.

Narrator: Among the new arrivals who began frequenting Tootsie's

was a 27-year-old from Abbott, Texas.

His name was Willie Nelson.

Nelson had grown up in central Texas

during the great depression surrounded by music.

Willie Nelson: ♪ there's a family Bible ♪

♪ on the table... ♪

Narrator: He would sit on the stool as his grandmother

taught his older sister to play the family pump organ.

At night the radio brought him

the songs of his first musical heroes...

Gene Autry, Bob Wills, and Ernest Tubb.

Nelson: I think I knew what I wanted to do from the beginning,

because I grew up with my sister Bobbie playing the piano

and me sitting on a piano stool, trying to learn "Stardust."

I just kind of felt like that's what I wanted to do,

and it was-I seemed to have a talent for...

I had written poems earlier, before I could play the guitar.

Narrator: By age 10, he was good enough on the guitar

to accompany himself when he sang at the town's barbershop

and to strum in a band that performed polkas

and waltzes at local gatherings.

By 12, he had written enough lyrics to fill

a makeshift songbook he constructed

with a cardboard cover and string

holding the sheets of paper together.

Nelson: I had written some songs,

and, you know, I wanted to have a songbook,

so I put them in a songbook,

and I had the artwork on there that was pretty fancy,

you'll have to admit.

Narrator: After graduating from high school in 1950,

he began a restless existence,

working as a radio disc jockey,

performing on weekends with a series of country bands,

and sometimes selling encyclopedias, bibles,

and vacuum cleaners door-to-door.

He was always short on money.

"I hawked my guitar so many times," he said later,

"the pawnbroker played it better than I did."

Once, strapped for cash,

he sold his writing credit on two songs for only $200,

giving up all future royalties.

One of them, "Family Bible," became an immediate hit

on country radio when someone else recorded it.

The other, "Night Life,"

would later go on to sell 30 million records.

Encouraged by their success,

even if he didn't profit from them,

Nelson decided to try Nashville

and landed a job with one of the publishing companies

for $50 a week.

Sitting in a converted garage,

which served as his writing space,

Nelson looked around one day and on a piece of cardboard

jotted down some lyrics to a song he entitled "Hello Walls."

Then he went to Tootsie's Orchid Lounge to play it

for the other songwriters and singers gathered there.

Emery: People were making fun of the song.

They would say "hello, glass."

"Hello, beer."

"Hello, picture frame."

Just anything in the room, "hello, doorknob."

And they were making fun of the song.

Well, Faron Young thought it was a hit,

and so he recorded it.

Faron Young: ♪ doo doo doo, hello, walls... ♪

Narrator: Nelson offered to sell country star

Faron Young his writing credit to "Hello Walls" for just $500.

♪ Don't you miss her? ♪

Narrator: Instead, young gave Nelson a loan of $500,

if he promised not to sell it to anyone else.

♪ And I'll bet you dread to spend ♪

♪ another lonely night with me ♪

Chorus: ♪ ba ba ba ba ♪

♪ but, lonely walls, I'll keep you company ♪

♪ ba ba ba ba ♪

Narrator: "Hello Walls" topped the country charts,

became a top 20 pop hit, and was soon covered

by Perry Como, Lawrence Welk,

and Willie's hero, Ernest Tubb.

When his first royalty check arrived for $14,000,

Nelson rushed to Tootsie's and in front of everyone else

gave Faron Young a big kiss, square on the lips.

Young: ♪ she'll gone a long, long time ♪

Narrator: "I ain't never had nobody," Young said,

"kiss me that good in my life."

[Indistinct chatter]

Stuart: The reason Nashville never goes away

as a musical entity,

regardless, is it has its business act together.

It is a very business-minded town.

Guitar in this hand, briefcase in this hand.

Narrator: In 1958, a group of industry executives,

concerned about the declining number of radio stations

playing country and western records,

had formed the Country Music Association, the CMA.

Jo Walker-Meador,

a young college-educated Nashville woman

who had never been to the Grand Ole Opry,

became its executive director.

She helped persuade billboard to refer to the music

as country instead of country and western

and opened a hall of fame

to recognize important figures in the music's history.

Along with the influential songwriter

and song publisher, Fred Rose,

the first to be inducted

were Jimmie Rodgers and Hank Williams.

But by now, most of the music being recorded in Nashville

no longer sounded anything like that of Rodgers or Williams.

Jim Reeves: ♪ out where the bright lights are glowing ♪

♪ you're drawn... ♪

Charlie McCoy: There's a fine line between art and business.

Sometimes we make business decisions that affects the art,

but we have to keep in mind, it is the music business.

Narrator: In their recording studios on music row,

both Chet Atkins and Owen Bradley had been experimenting

with ways to reach a wider audience...

Adding a few sweet violins

instead of a hard-driving fiddle,

a soft piano,

and the subdued background vocals

of either the Anita Kerr Singers or the Jordanaires Quartet,

all allowing the lead singer to be front and center.

It was called the Nashville sound.

Reeves: ♪ for me... ♪

Narrator: "I wasn't trying to change the business,"

Chet Atkins said, "just sell records."

He helped Jim Reeves make the transition

from a hillbilly singer doing novelty songs

to a crooner of aching heartbreak.

And over at his quonset hut studio,

Owen Bradley was moving Brenda Lee away

from rockabilly with a song called "I'm Sorry."

Lee: I think rockabilly was more that raw, rhythmic sound.

♪ I'm sorry... ♪

"I'm Sorry" was more of your uptown,

big ballad, classy kind of a sound

that we really hadn't done in Nashville.

♪ I'm sorry, so sorry ♪

♪ that I was such a fool ♪

♪ I didn't know love could be so cruel ♪

♪ oh-oh-oh-oh ♪

♪ oh-oh-oh, yes ♪

It's just the oh-oh, oh-oh

that you do in a kind of a song, little hiccup.

♪ You tell me ♪

♪ mistakes ♪

♪ are part of being young ♪

♪ but love was blind ♪

♪ and I was too blind ♪

♪ to see ♪

Men: ♪ sorry ♪

Narrator: By 1961, despite her brief success

with "Walkin' After Midnight,".

Patsy Cline hadn't had a hit in 4 years.

Her family was barely getting by.

They didn't even have a telephone.

People were told they could reach her

by leaving a message at WSM,

but once she was freed from her contract

with 4 Star records, she signed on with Decca.

Owen Bradley immediately began looking for a song

that could help her appeal to both country and pop markets.

He called on two of nashvilles hottest songwriters...

Hank Cochran and Harlan Howard.

"The essence of a good country song,"

Howard once said, "was 3 chords and the truth."

The song they wrote was set to a familiar country beat.

Cline had at first objected to Bradley's insistence

on the addition of the Jordanaires,

whose voices, she feared, might overwhelm her own.

Patsy Cline: ♪ I fall to pieces ♪

♪ each time I see you again ♪

I was driving into the closest little town,

I heard that record.

I was going through that.

I had just broken up with this guy.

I had gone to a party and I'm...

At first, I wasn't going to go,

and then it's like, "no, I'm going

and I'm going to have a good time."

Well, I had a great time until I saw him

and then I just fell to pieces.

When I heard that record, I like,

"who knows what I'm just living through?

Who knows that?"

I just cannot believe there's somebody out there

that can write a song about how you feel

when they don't even know you.

Narrator: With "I Fall to Pieces,".

Patsy Cline scored her first number one country hit.

Cline: ♪ you walk by and I fall to pieces ♪

Ray Walker: We're on a session.

She's upstairs with Owen in the control room.

She came down those steps, sassy, sassy.

She put her hand on her hip, cocked her hip,

threw her head back and said, "boys, they say I got a hit.

Ain't nobody taking my frigidaire and my car now."

Narrator: As more and more artists and their producers

turned to the Nashville sound,

"country music," "Time" magazine noted,

"is now wearing city clothes."

The studios on music row were busier than ever.

Many purists complained that the drive to become more mainstream,

and more profitable, meant forsaking the raw, homespun roots

that had always distinguished country music,

but there was no disputing how well it sold.

"What is the Nashville sound?"

Chet Atkins was asked.

He reached into his pocket and jingled his change.

"That," he said, "is the Nashville sound."

Jean Shepard: ♪ the steel guitar ♪

♪ played when I met him... ♪

Narrator: Some country artists still preferred to stick with tradition.

One of them was a sharecropper's daughter

from Oklahoma named Jean Shepard.

Shepard: Country music,

if you ain't got a steel guitar

or a fiddle in your band,

you ain't got no country band.

That's it.

Narrator: After she joined the Grand Ole Opry,

Shepard fell in love with the singer Hawkshaw Hawkins,

a charismatic West Virginian who had earned

4 medals fighting in World War II.

Shepard: ♪ steel guitar... ♪

Narrator: In 1960, he insisted on a public wedding

at one of their concerts,

just like his hero Hank Williams had done.

Hawkins and Shepard moved to a farm near Nashville

and set about raising a family.

Hay: Thank you very much, Joan,

and howdy, friends and neighbors

and everybody here in the Opry house.

We've got a great, big show for you.

Roy Acuff and his Smoky Mountain Boys take the lead.

Roy Acuff: ♪ from the great Atlantic ocean ♪

♪ to the wide pacific shores ♪

♪ from the queen of flowing mountains ♪

♪ to the south bell by the shore ♪

♪ she's mighty tall and handsome ♪

♪ she's known quite well by all ♪

♪ she's the combination ♪

♪ on the wabash cannonball... ♪

Loretta Lynn: Well, there was one person in that hollow

who had one of these little tiny radios,

and on Saturday night,

everybody would end up at that one house,

and we listened to the Grand Ole Opry.

Daddy, when he got his job in the mines,

in the coal mines, we got a Philco radio,

and that was the greatest thing that ever happened to us,

was that radio.

I'd go to sleep every night with that radio,

with a blanket over the top of me.

Sometimes I'd be froze to death,

but I listened to the radio.

Acuff: ♪ ...To the jungles on the wabash cannonball ♪

Narrator: Loretta Lynn was born on April 14, 1932

in a cabin in butcher hollow, Kentucky.

The oldest girl in a family of 8 children,

she grew up wearing dresses made from flour sacks

and tending to her younger siblings,

singing them to sleep in a rocking chair.

Lynn: You know, when Bill Monroe would start to singing the bluegrass,

mommy would hit the floor and start dancing.

And when mommy would hit the floor and start dancing,

you'd see daddy with his head down,

and he'd look up and go...

And then he'd put his head back down.

He would grin, you know, and put his head back down.

Narrator: At age 15, she met Oliver "Doolittle" Lynn,

a 21-year-old war veteran who outbid everyone else

for her pie at a schoolhouse social.

He was the first boy she ever kissed,

and they married within a month.

She and Doolittle moved to Washington state,

near the Canadian border,

where he had found work on a ranch,

and she had 4 children in quick succession

while the couple scraped to get by.

Hearing his young wife sing around the house,

Doolittle bought Loretta a $17 guitar from sears.

She taught herself to play it,

composing songs of her own and playing them to her children.

Lynn: And I'd line them up.

I'd line these kids up and I'd sing and sing,

and I'd say, "now, which one of these songs do you like?"

Do you think mommy can sing?"

And every one of them would say, "yeah, mommy, you can sing."

Narrator: Soon she was performing with a small country band

for $5.00 a night at a local tavern

and won a talent contest on a Tacoma TV show.

A wealthy lumberman offered to finance a recording

of a song she had written, "I'm a Honky Tonk Girl."

Lynn: ♪ many night I've laid awake and cried ♪

♪ we once were happy ♪

♪ my heart was in a whirl ♪

(♪ but now I'm a honky tonk girl)

♪ So turn that... ♪

Haggard: I like the very first record she did.

♪ I'm just a honky tonk girl ♪

I think that's the best she ever sounded.

I love that record.

She had authenticity in it.

She was hungry.

Lynn: ♪ now I'm a honky tonk girl... ♪

Haggard: She wanted out of that life she was in

and kind of sung her way out of prison.

Narrator: To promote her record,

she and Doolittle started sending copies of it,

along with a photograph of Loretta dressed in a cowgirl outfit,

to disc jockeys and station managers around the nation.

In early 1960, they set off to do it in person,

going from station to station, sleeping in their car,

living on baloney and cheese sandwiches.

Lynn: I had one little dress.

Doo got it for me for my seventeenth birthday.

So I had kept it all this time, you know,

and I kept that one dress so I could go someplace,

and I'd get in the backseat

and change into my little black and white dress

and pull my jeans off and go in the radio station,

and then when I'd come back, I'd pull my dress off,

hang it back up,

and we'd go on down the road to the next radio station.

That's how we did it.

Narrator: "I'm a Honky Tonk Girl"

hit number 14 on the country charts.

They decided to head for Nashville.

There, she pestered officials at the Grand Ole Opry

until they granted her a spot on the show.

Lynn: ♪ and now I'm a honky tonk girl ♪

Narrator: Meanwhile, one of Loretta's idols, Patsy Cline,

was involved in an automobile accident

that killed two people.

Patsy was catapulted through her car's windshield

and hospitalized in critical condition

with broken bones, a dislocated hip,

and a deep gash that sliced across her forehead.

Loretta was scheduled to be on Ernest Tubb's Midnite Jamboree.

Lynn: And I sung on the Ernest Tubb record shop,

"I Fall to Pieces"

and dedicated it to her in the hospital.

So she sent her husband out, down to town to get me,

to bring me to the hospital,

and that's where I met her, was in the hospital.

Narrator: Loretta and patsy soon became close friends.

She started giving Lynn advice on her career,

money for rent, and nicer clothes.

Cline slowly recovered,

appearing once at the Opry in a wheelchair

to show her fans she was mending.

[Applause]

Cline: I'm kind of out of wind.

This is the first time I've worked

since I got out of the hospital.

[Man laughs]

What are you laughing about? You wasn't there.

[Laughter]

Oh, me.

We'd like to slow things down so I can get my breath.

(♪ I must make up my mind today)

♪ What to have, what to hold... ♪

Narrator: As soon as Patsy Cline felt up to it,

Owen Bradley brought her back to his studio

to record a new album featuring more of the Nashville sound.

The song that produced the album's biggest hit

was a slow, soft lament Willie Nelson had written.

He had originally entitled the song, "Stupid,"

but then changed his mind.

He called it "Crazy."

Nelson: I was at Tootsie's orchid lounge in Nashville,

and Charlie Dick, Patsy's husband was there.

He and I were having a beer.

I had a demo on "Crazy."

And I got it on Tootsie's jukebox

and played it, and he heard it

and said, "that would be a great song for Patsy."

Let's go play it for her."

We went over to her house.

It was about 12:30, 1:00 when we got there,

and I wouldn't get out of the car,

so he went in and Patsy come out

and made me get out of the car and come in

and listened to the song.

I just thought it was a good song.

You know, when you write one, you know

whether it's good or whether it's not great,

but I always thought it was a really good song,

and I played it for Patsy Cline

and she thought it was a great song.

Narrator: "I'm glad you woke me up," Patsy said.

"I'm recording it."

But in the studio, as the musicians worked on their parts,

Patsy was having trouble.

She couldn't get Willie Nelson's unique phrasing

on his demo version out of her head.

And Willie had recorded it

♪ crazy, du-du ba-Bing da dong ♪

♪ crazy for feeling so lonely ♪

Well, she got that tempo locked into her mind,

and it was kind of western, you know?

So she came to the studio and Owen slowed it down to

crazy, Whoo-hoo-hoo ♪

That's us.

♪ Crazy for feeling so lone ♪

Well, she couldn't get it.

She had "domp-dee, domp-dee, domp" in her mind.

Narrator: Owen Bradley sent Cline home

while he and the musicians finished the background track.

Two weeks later, she returned to lay down her vocals over it,

and in her first take delivered the kind of performance

they had been searching for.

Cline: ♪ crazy ♪ Jordanaires: ♪ ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ I'm crazy for feeling so lonely ♪

♪ ooh, ooh, ♪

♪ I'm crazy ♪

♪ crazy for feeling so blue... ♪

Narrator: Released as a single, "Crazy" quickly crossed over

to the top 10 on the pop charts,

just as Owen Bradley had wanted.

Trisha Yearwood: When you hear her sing,

it sounds to me like she is in the room, right here,

and you feel the emotion in every Lyric.

If you can find that perfect song

and then you marry it with that...

With the voice it's supposed to go with, it's timeless.

Cline: ♪ ...You ♪

♪ crazy ♪

♪ for thinking that my love would hold you ♪

♪ I'm crazy for trying ♪

♪ and crazy for crying ♪

♪ and I'm crazy for loving ♪

♪ you ♪

Jordanaires: ♪ ooh ♪

Ray Charles: ♪ hey, good lookin' ♪

♪ whatcha got cooking? ♪

Narrator: By 1962, Ray Charles had been

a rhythm and blues star for a decade,

and when he was given creative control

of an album for the first time,

he stunned the music world

by choosing to record country songs.

Charles: ♪ I got a brand-new car... ♪

Ronnie Milsap: People who were close to Ray Charles,

I think they were kind of disappointed in the way

that Ray had chose that,

but Ray Charles listens to the radio just like I do.

He listened to it every day and every night.

He knew what was really the pulse of what America's all about...

Charles: ♪ the spot right over the hill ♪

♪ there's soda pop and a dance... ♪

Milsap: These songs that tell stories,

so that's what country music really is.

Charles: ♪ whatcha got cooking? ♪

He's listening to the radio,

is he not going to hear country music?

He's a singer.

He's not going to hear church music, hymns.

And we tend to think of it one way,

like these white musicians heard these black musicians play.

The black musicians were listening to the white musicians, too.

Narrator: "You take country music",

you take black music," Ray Charles said,

and "you got the same goddamn thing exactly."

On his album "Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music,"

he chose songs like Hank Williams' "Hey Good Lookin',"

the Everly Brothers' "Bye Bye Love."

And a tune by country singer Don Gibson,

"I Can't Stop Loving You."

Chorus: ♪ I can't stop loving you ♪

[Applause]

♪ I've made up my mind ♪

♪ to live in memories ♪

♪ of the lonesome times... ♪

Vince Gill: And you ask him why he liked country music,

he said, "I like the stories. I like the stories they tell."

That was a huge record for us,

maybe even more so than Ray,

for us to be able to hang our hat

on how soulful this music could be.

Charles: ♪ to live in memories ♪

♪ of a lonesome time ♪

♪ yeah, baby, yeah... ♪

Milsap: "I Can't Stop Loving You" hit the radio

and that whole summer of 1962,

it just played all summer long.

To sell one song, one side of a 45 record,

charts all the way to number one

and sells 20 million records,

that's pretty big.

Narrator: As a single, "I Can't Stop Loving You"

topped the charts in the United States and Britain,

won a grammy for best R&B release,

and sold so briskly, one Atlanta record storeowner reported,

"people who don't even own record players are buying it."

"Ray Charles," Willie Nelson said,

"did more for country music

than any one artist has ever done."

Charles: ♪ so I'll just live my life ♪

♪ I think I might live my life ♪

♪ dreams of yesterday ♪

I mean, music is always striving to the best thing,

and the best thing is the mix, you know?

It always is.

You have these two things, which are pretty cool on their own.

Then you put them together and all the strengths multiply,

you know, and become this beautiful thing.

And I think that's one of the reasons

why American music has taken over the world,

because everybody can feel that it comes

from one plus one equals a hundred.

Narrator: By the early 1960s,

Johnny Cash was on the road more than ever,

away from his wife and 4 daughters.

Johnny Cash: ♪ hear that lonesome whippoorwill... ♪

Narrator: The tensions between him and Vivian were palpable.

"I wasn't going to give up the life that went with my music,"

Cash said later, "and Vivian wasn't going to accept that",

"so there we were, very unhappy.

There was always a battle at home."

Cash: ♪ ...I could cry ♪

Rosanne Cash: Being the daughter of a really famous guy

was fraught with so much anxiety,

partly because of my mother.

And she was so afraid of fame,

and she was afraid we'd be kidnapped,

and she didn't want anything in the papers,

and she wanted a quiet life, a contained life,

and my dad did not have a quiet and contained life.

Cash: ♪ the moon just went behind the clouds ♪

♪ to hide its face and cry ♪

♪ did you ever... ♪

Narrator: After one road trip,

Cash brought his whole band to the house,

along with Patsy Cline, who was now part of his tour.

Vivian became friends with Patsy,

but not with another woman also appearing regularly with Johnny...

June Carter.

Carlene Carter: A lot of people were in the dark about it,

but it was pretty evident to even me, a young... a small child,

that there was something there between them, a special bond.

Narrator: Cash soon added June's mother Maybelle

and her sisters into the act,

and when they appeared with him at a big show at the Hollywood Bowl,

Vivian took the girls to the concert.

After it was over, they watched as Johnny jumped

into a waiting Cadillac to drive off with June.

Johnny Cash: ♪ as I wonder where you... ♪

Narrator: "The look on Vivian's face,"

one band member remembered, "was pure anguish."

Johnny Cash: ♪ ...Could cry ♪

Narrator: By the end of 1962,

Johnny Cash and June Carter's affair had deepened,

but they were conflicted about it.

They were both still married to other people...

June to her second husband...

And both had children to consider.

Anita Carter: ♪ love is a burning thing... ♪

Narrator: June poured her feelings into a new song,

co-written with Merle Kilgore, that her sister Anita recorded.

Carlene Carter: When she wrote "Ring of Fire"

it was about something real.

It was about true passion and true love

and the scary factor of that.

You know, "I fell into a burning ring of fire," that is scary.

Narrator: Anita Carter's "Ring of Fire" was not a hit,

but in March of 1963,

Johnny Cash decided to record it himself.

He wanted a fresh sound,

maybe even Mexican horns,

and he turned to cowboy Jack Clement,

a friend from his sun record days, now living in Texas.

Cowboy Jack Clement: And the phone rang and Johnny Cash wanted me to...

He said he's going to cut a record in Nashville with trumpets on it,

and he wanted me to come up and help him figure it out,

so I flew up and got in there

and he had these two or 3 trumpets,

and they didn't know what they were going to do.

They had music, but it was blank,

so I said, "why don't you go [imitates trumpet]?"

And they wrote that down,

and then I said, "go [imitates trumpet]"

["Ring of fire" playing]

Johnny Cash: ♪ love is a burning thing ♪

♪ and it makes a fiery ring ♪

♪ bound by wild desire ♪

♪ I fell into a ring of fire ♪

♪ I fell into a burning ring of fire... ♪

Narrator: "Ring of Fire" spent 7 weeks

at number one on the country charts,

and an album featuring it

lasted more than a year on the pop charts.

Johnny Cash: ♪ the ring of fire... ♪

Narrator: Vivian hated "Ring of Fire"

and tried her best to avoid

the radio stations that seemed to play it constantly.

She associated it with June Carter,

whose voice could be heard on the record

singing backup with her sisters.

"The mere mention of her name annoyed me," Vivian would remember.

"I longed for the days when Johnny told me

he'd always walk the line for me."

Johnny Cash: ♪ the ring of fire ♪

♪ the ring of fire, the ring of fire ♪

Anderson: Country music has always been a family.

And when tragedy struck and some people in Belle Meade

or the fancy places in Nashville could have really cared less,

I think it just brought us together that much more

because it hurt us all.

It was like one person,

you know, got cut and we all bled.

Narrator: In February 1963, Hawkshaw Hawkins was excited

about a new single that he had just recorded,

a swinging heartbreak song, "Lonesome 7-7203."

Hawkins: ♪ lonesome 7-7203... ♪

Narrator: He was even more excited that his wife Jean Shepard

was 8 months pregnant with their second child.

Hawkins was just starting to promote his new record

when word reached Nashville that a popular disc jockey

in Kansas City had been killed in an automobile accident.

A local promoter there was putting together

a benefit concert to help the family,

and a troupe of Opry stars agreed to go to Kansas City

for the show, including Hawkins.

And a whole bunch of the people went,

and Hawk was one of them.

He was one of the first ones to volunteer

'cause back then, you did stuff like this.

Narrator: Before he left for Kansas City,

Hawkshaw told Jean, "I hope this one's a boy, too."

Then he stopped by the WSM studio

to hand-deliver a copy of his new single.

Anderson: Hawkshaw gave Ralph Emery a copy of "Lonesome 7-7203,"

a promotional 45-rpm copy with a white label on it.

And on the label, he wrote to Ralph,

"play the hell out of it, Hawk."

Hawkshaw: ♪ 7-7203 ♪

Narrator: The benefit show in Kansas City's

memorial building was held on Sunday, March 3.

Patsy Cline flew in from her recent tour.

She was tired and had come down with a bad cold,

but she closed the concert with a set of her hits,

along with two she had just recorded but not yet released...

"Faded Love" and "Sweet Dreams."

Cline: ♪ I remember our ♪

♪ faded love... ♪

Narrator: As the musicians prepared to make their separate ways

home to Nashville the next morning,

Hawkins gave up his commercial airline ticket

to a friend whose father was ill.

He said he'd fly back later with Patsy Cline.

Because of her recent success,

Cline now traveled in a 4-seat Piper Comanche

flown by her manager Randy Hughes.

Cowboy Copas, another star, hitched a ride, too.

Cline: ♪and remember our faded ♪

♪ love ♪

Narrator: After a day's delay because of bad weather,

the small plane finally departed Kansas City

on the afternoon of March 5, 1963.

West of Nashville, they flew into dense rain clouds.

Hughes was not trained to fly by instruments.

[Telephone rings]

[Ring]

Shepard: It was about 10:00, 10:30.

I had put the baby down in bed and I had laid down

and had just dozed off to sleep when the phone rang,

and it was this woman, Eileen,

and she said, "what are you doing?"

I said, "well, I'm trying to go to sleep."

And she said, "oh, my god, you don't know."

I knew then.

Narrator: Friends started showing up at the house,

including Minnie Pearl, who tried to help Jean

through the long night as they waited for more news.

Anderson: I got a phone call about 7:15 that morning

from the wife of a dear friend of mine.

She said, "go turn on WSM right now."

So I turned on the radio and Opry announcers

were talking and they were... They were crying.

You could actually hear the tears in their voice

as they were telling their audience and the world

for the first time that this plane had gone down.

Narrator: Meanwhile, a frantic search

was underway near Camden, Tennessee.

The songwriter Roger Miller joined the team

combing the forest, calling out his friends' names in the darkness.

As the sun came up, he climbed a fire tower,

saw some torn tree tops, and led the group

to the crash site, littered with debris...

A hairbrush, gold slipper, and cigarette lighter of patsy's,

hawkshaw Hawkins' leather belt, one of his cowboy boots,

the broken neck of his guitar.

Cline: ♪ sweet dreams of you ♪

♪ every night ♪

♪ I go through ♪

♪ why can't I forget you ♪

♪ and start my life anew ♪

♪ instead of having sweet dreams about you? ♪

♪ You don't love me ♪

♪ it's plain ♪

Ii...

Narrator: After the funerals, the Grand Ole Opry

paid tribute to them all in a memorial service.

The country music family was in shock,

but wanted to give their lost friends a proper good-bye

and hold close the children left behind.

Cline: ♪ you don't love me, it's plain ♪

♪ I should know ♪

♪ I'll never wear your ring... ♪

Shepard: I had the baby about a month later,

and it was really rough.

My mother and daddy stayed with me for a couple of months.

I was just kind of lost, kind of a lost feeling.

You know?

And I just-j just took it one day at a time, so to speak.

Cline: ♪ sweet... ♪

Narrator: In the weeks that followed,

Hawkshaw Hawkins' "Lonesome 7-7203"

would rise to the top of the country charts,

his only number-one hit.

Like Jimmie Rodgers' and Hank Williams',

Patsy Cline's life and career had ended far too soon.

She was just 30 years old.

Cline: ♪ ...Forget the past... ♪

Narrator: Her loss would resonate

in country music for decades...

Cline: ♪ instead of having sweet dreams ♪

♪ about you ♪

Narrator: But her signature song "Crazy"

would go on to become the number-one jukebox tune of all time.

[Coin rattles]

[Clicking]

["Crazy" playing]

♪

Cline: ♪ crazy ♪

♪ I'm crazy for feeling so lonely ♪

♪ I'm crazy ♪

♪ crazy for feeling so blue ♪

♪ I knew ♪

♪ you'd love me as long as you wanted ♪

♪ and then someday ♪

♪ you'd leave me for somebody new ♪

♪ worry ♪

♪ why do I let myself worry? ♪

♪ Wondering ♪

♪ what in the world did I do ♪

♪ oh, crazy ♪

♪ for thinking that my love could hold you ♪

♪ I'm crazy for trying ♪

♪ and crazy for crying ♪

♪ and I'm crazy for loving you ♪

♪ crazy ♪

♪ for thinking that my love could hold you ♪

♪ I'm crazy for trying ♪

♪ and crazy for crying ♪

♪ and I'm crazy for loving ♪

♪ you ♪

♪ Heading down south to the land of the pine ♪

♪ thumbing my way into north Caroline ♪

♪ staring up the road, pray to god I see headlights ♪

♪ so, rock me, mama, like a wagon wheel ♪

♪ rock me, mama, any way you feel ♪

♪ hey, mama, rock me ♪

[Cheering and applause]

Announcer: Funding for "country music" was provided

by: The Annenberg Foundation;

By the Arthur Vining Davis Foundations,

dedicated to strengthening America's future

through education;

By Belmont University, where students can study

music and music business in the heart of music city;

By the soundtrack of America... Made in Tennessee...

Travel in formation at tnvacation. Com;

By the metropolitan government of Nashville

and Davidson county;

And by Rosalind P. Walter.

Major funding was also provided

by the following members

of the Better Angels Society:

The Blavatnik Family Foundation,

the Schwartz/Reisman Foundation,

the Pfeil Foundation,

Diane and Hal Brierley,

John and Catherine Debs,

the Fullerton Family Charitable Fund,

by the Perry and Donna Golkin Family Foundation,

Jay Alix and Una Jackman,

Mercedes T. Bass,

and Fred and Donna Seigel

and by these additional members.

[Bob Willis and His Texas Playboys' "New San Antonio Rose" playing]

By the Corporation for Public Broadcasting

and by viewers like you.

Thank you.