I cannot say more about Dolly Parton, or anything better, than has been written in the past few days since her death. But I find it difficult not to acknowledge this spectacular woman today. I remember Dolly from Porter Wagoner’s television show back in the 1960s. Libby and I were often at Grandma and Grandpa’s house on Saturday afternoons when we were kids, and Porter Wagoner’s television show aired at 5:30 right before good old Lawrence Welk. Wagoner was from West Plains, so he was kind of a Southern Missouri celebrity. I remember him wearing shiny pink and blue jackets, some with fancy embroidery, and some covered in rhinestones.
His female counterpart on the show was Miss Norma Jean, an unremarkable brunette. Miss Norma Jean left the show and was replaced by a striking blonde soprano with an unmistakable vibrato: Dolly Parton. I thought she was really pretty and made Porter Wagoner a lot easier to listen to. In those days, Dolly was slender (translation: not as “chesty” as she became later on!) and had a sweet face (translation: not as “flashy” as she became later on!), but there was obviously something special about her.
One year, the big news was that Porter and Dolly were coming to the “Reunion” in Mammoth Spring, along with Speck Rhodes. I seem to remember they actually got there and sang a few songs on the little stage somewhere off to the side of the carnival rides that were probably held together with bobby pins.
Dolly left Porter Wagoner’s show when I was in college. Unlike Miss Norma Jean, who, as far as I know, faded into oblivion and was never heard from again, Dolly Parton made a mark on the world for the next 50 years.
We can talk all day about her talent – the number of songs she wrote, the number of awards she received – or the fact that she turned down accepting the Presidential Medal of Freedom twice, or her rapier wit, exemplified when she said things such as, “’I think of myself more as a diplomat. That's the kind of people who tell you to go to hell in such a way you look forward to the trip’" (https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c790n1vj27no).
More important than all those things to me, though, is that Dolly Parton was a quietly generous humanitarian who believed in the power of education. The fourth of twelve children, born into extreme poverty in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, she never forgot where she came from and how she ended up somewhere else. Her life was one of demonstrable “do unto others.” We’ve all heard about the Buddy Program she began in a Tennessee school, promising $500 to each seventh and eighth grader who, paired with a “buddy,” graduated from high school. According to her website, the dropout rate in participating schools fell from 35% to 6%.
She provided 100% of tuition, books, and fees for all Dollywood employees who wanted to go to college, including part-time and seasonal workers, and that benefit was available on Day 1 of their work. She famously donated $1 million to Vanderbilt University, as reported by “Fortune Magazine” for the continuation of research into the mRNA vaccine that eventually became Moderna’s COVID-19 vaccination.
Lately, she was known for distributing books to children from birth to age five through her foundation. At last count, she had given away over 330,000,000 books, with more to come. The children enrolled in the program not only receive books, they also receive a letter from Dolly when they turn five, telling them to keep reading and keep dreaming.
The unknown story I read that brought me to tears, though, was this: Porter Wagoner fell on hard times, according to several different sources. Dolly Parton bought the rights to his songs, giving him the ability to get back on his feet. Later, he asked her if he could buy them back, but she said no. She gave them back to him. Free.
That we all could be such living examples of the Golden Rule - the Dolly Rule.
Deborah Mitchell is a Sedalia attorney.
