Part 3
The song stayed hers. Whitney sang it. The world stopped. And Dolly owned it all.
But let’s rewind. Picture the scene: Dolly’s office in Nashville. The phone rings. It’s Colonel Tom Parker. He says, “You do know Elvis don’t record anything that he don’t publish or at least get half the publishing on.” Dolly says, “I can’t do that.” She explains: the song’s already been a hit with her. It’s in her publishing company. It’s going to be one of her most important copyrights. She can’t give half because that’s stuff she’s leaving for her family. Parker says, “Well then we can’t record the song.” Dolly is heartbroken. But she holds firm. “I’m really sorry but I can’t do that.”
That took guts. Or did it? Dolly says it didn’t seem like guts to her. It seemed like the thing to do. It hurt because she was disappointed. She’d have to tell her friends Elvis didn’t record it. But she knew it wasn’t right. If she didn’t have her own publishing company, if the song hadn’t already been a hit, it might have been different. But she couldn’t give somebody half of a song that had already been number one. It had proved itself.
Redemption came years later. Whitney Houston recorded it. Dolly thought, “Oh good, now I own 100% of the publishing, 100% of the writing.” She did really well with that. But she didn’t blame Elvis. Didn’t blame Colonel Tom. It was a decision she had to make. And she’s glad she did.
When Whitney recorded it, it became a worldwide hit all over again. Dolly said, “Here it comes again.” That really was a great song. Whitney’s version—an acapella opening that stopped Dolly’s heart. She was driving from her office in Nashville to her house in Brentwood when she heard it. She thought she was going to have a heart attack. “My little song, my little simple song that was written straight from my heart.”
But back to business. How did Dolly become a remarkably successful businesswoman? She watched her daddy. He could trade and barter. Good horse sense. He was up early, farming before construction jobs, keeping food on the table. He always made the best deals and the best choices. Dolly was influenced by that.
She got her music from her mother’s side. But most musicians don’t want to work at anything else. Dolly did. She saw she could make money and thought: they call this the music business, so why not lean heavy on the business side? So she started thinking about keeping her publishing to herself, publishing her own songs, starting her own publishing company. Smart business. She’s been lucky and made good choices. But she also had good people. She owes a lot of her success to smart people. But the choices were hers.
Think about that 18-year-old in Nashville. Talented, but few opportunities for women. How did she keep men off her and keep minds on business? She believed in her talent. She had brothers, a dad, uncles, grandpas—she knew how men thought. “I look like a woman but I can also think like a man.” She was not intimidated. She used her looks as a compliment, not a weapon. If a man got out of line, she managed it without hurting feelings. She never slept with anybody to get anywhere. If she slept with someone, it was because she wanted to. She’d have the deal done and gone before they realized what happened.
That’s the same steel that let her tell Colonel Tom Parker no. He wanted half her publishing. She said no. That no was built in a Tennessee childhood, in a father who couldn’t read but could trade, in a young woman who looked like a woman and thought like a man. The song stayed hers. Whitney sang it. The world stopped. And Dolly owned it all.
Next time: more stories of artists who bet on themselves and won—or lost. Stay tuned.
