The story behind the photo

I was a young reporter in Fayetteville when Loretta Lynn came to town to do a show. With the chance for a sit-down interview, I wanted to be ready. The movie “Coal Miner’s Daughter,” starring Sissy Spacek had come out a few years before, and I had seen it, but I went to the original source, Loretta Lynn’s autobiography, and read the whole thing before the day of the show.

I was as ready as a reporter can be, but at the last minute, her PR folks said any chance of an interview was slim because she’d gotten very bad news the night before — her daughter-in-law had given birth prematurely to twins, and both had died within hours. The show would go on, but anything else would depend on how Loretta was holding up.

I watched her in sheer amazement from a second-row seat, singing her heart out for her fans. As the show ended, we got the signal from the PR folks and headed backstage. I overheard her first words once she stepped out of the spotlight: “Get me a Tagamet.” She had long suffered from ulcers, a result of stress and performance anxiety. And tonight, heartache.

I was stunned that she was good enough to talk to us — at the last minute, I’d been thrown in with a toupee-wearing goofball from a local TV station. His first question: “Where are you from, Loretta?”

I wanted to kill him myself. Anybody who knew ANYTHING about her knew she was born in Butcher Hollow, Kentucky. It was, after all, in the chorus of her hit song “Coal Miner’s Daugher.” But she just looked at him, smiled, and gave him what he wanted: “I’m from Butcher Holler.”

When my turn came, I began by saying how sorry I was to hear about her loss, and that I knew it must be hard for her, since she’d lost babies of her own. That was something I’d learned from her autobiography. She had several miscarriages before they learned she had the RH factor.

She took my hand and just poured her heart out. She was worried about her son, worried about her daughter-in-law. She worried that she’d let down her fans by not signing autographs after the show. No pretentions. No drama. Just one human being looking for another to understand. What I saw that night was a woman of true grace and graciousness.

And this is what I wrote:

Loretta Lynn stands little more than 5-feet tall in heels. Her hands show the seams of hard work, scrubbing and planting and washing dishes in hot, soapy water.

Her face is the sum of her life, traced with the lines of joy and tears. She is a survivor.

There remains a bit of shyness, but Loretta’s eyes, honest and searching, easily find kindred souls. Clasping your hand with a mother’s comforting touch, she radiates warmth. You want to hold her. And she wants to hold you, too.

She’s delicate, almost fragile. But the overriding impression is one of endurance and strength. Friday night she had to pull on every bit she had.

I met and interviewed a lot of celebrities over the years, and many of the ones with the nicest public image turned out to be jerks in reality.

Not Loretta.