Free Honky Tonk Angel by Ellis Nassour Page B

feathers, but it seemed that the fun was gone.

    Patsy’s first Nashville session under the auspices of Paul Cohen and Bill McCall was scheduled for Wednesday, January 5, 1955. Cohen reviewed the tapes and was mesmerized by Patsy’s voice, but he didn’t know what to have her record. He consulted every artist on Decca from Webb Pierce to Ernest Tubb, except the Reigning Queen of Country Music, Kitty Wells, who was Patsy’s chief rival.
    Tubb asked, “Has Decca signed Patsy Cline?”
    “No,” Cohen replied. “We’ve got her under a Four-Star deal. E.T., do you know her?”
    “Yeah, of course. From Bill Peer’s band. Sweet little gal with a great big voice.”
    “E.T., that’s the problem. I’ve hit a snag. Patsy’s got the potential to have broader appeal than Kitty. I think she’s got a pop sound. It’s there. I just know it”
    “Heck, Paul, if she’s got a pop sound, why don’t you get Owen Bradley to work with her?”
    Bradley, who was in his late thirties, was at home in any music field. As a businessman—with ethics, yet—he became one of Music City’s wealthiest, dabbling with brother Harold in real estate and recording studios while others chose song publishing.
    As a producer, he was years ahead of his rivals. Bradley wasn’t afraid to be innovative at a time when country had become static. (He was elected to the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1974.)
    Downtown Nashville still had the Ryman, Tootsie’s, Tubb’s record store, and assorted taverns, but farther out toward the West End, what has come to be known as Music Row was taking shape. Some of its prime movers were the Bradleys, who in 1952 built a studio on Twenty-first Avenue South behind McClure’s Department Store. In 1955, when Cohen considered moving recording operations to Dallas, where better technology was available, the Bradleys bought a house in the rundown neighborhood along Sixteenth Avenue South and installed a studio. They later added an adjacent metal Quonset hut (now part of Sony-Columbia) that was quickly dubbed Bradley’s Barn.
    On the main floor was a studio for filming such syndicated TV as “The Stars of the Grand Ole Opry” and the U.S. Army’s “Country Style, U.S.A.,” which pitched military recruitment. In the basement, the Bradleys created one of the most technically advanced recording studios in the region.
    At that time, Bradley had no magic formula for Patsy’s voice. As he noted later, even if he’d thought to record her pop, it wouldn’t have been accepted. Whatever everyone’s second thoughts about her voice, Patsy was being sent to Nashville to record, and that’s where they did country. Tubb and Pierce were called in to review the song choices McCall sent. Tubb recalled, “Webb and I sat down with Paul and those Four-Star folk and picked out the best four songs they had to offer. Webb didn’t think any of them approached what he could write.”
    After ringing in the New Year at the Moose Lodge with their respective mates and revelers, Patsy and Bill left Sunday, January 2, for Nashville. It was their first
plane ride. Gerald claims he was also along on the trip, acting as official chaperon. Bill was terrified of flying and held on to the armrests, his face pale. He told Patsy, “I’m so nervous, I’m about to wet my pants!”
    She pulled out a flask and said, “No problem. Have a couple of swigs. It’ll do the trick.”
    “You know I don’t drink.”
    “Hoss, there’s a first time for everything.”
    “And this is it!”
    It didn’t take long for Patsy and Bill to be sailing through the friendly skies. She even offered to help the crew with their duties.
    Bill later told Roy Deyton that as the plane approached Nashville, the stewardess came on the speaker.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has lighted the fasten seat belt sign.”
    Suddenly Patsy jumped into the aisle, straddled her legs across it and yelled, “All right, ladies, you don’t want to ignore the captain. Fasten