Part 2
When she played it for Porter, he cried. He said it was the best song she'd ever written. He didn't want her to go. But she did. And the song stayed. Waiting. For Elvis. For Whitney. For the world.
The cassette held two lifetimes. 'Jolene' — the fear of losing love. 'I Will Always Love You' — the grace of letting it go. Both written in one night. Both recorded by Dolly. Both became legends.
But the journey of 'I Will Always Love You' is a masterclass in patience. In trusting your gut. In saying no to the King because you believe in your own worth. Dolly didn't know Whitney would come along. She just knew the song was too important to give away.
And when Whitney sang it? It wasn't just a cover. It was a resurrection. A reinvention. A reminder that a great song can live a thousand lives. Dolly's version is a country weepie. Whitney's is a global anthem. Same lyrics. Different universe.
The Bodyguard made Whitney a movie star. It made Dolly a richer songwriter. But more than that, it made 'I Will Always Love You' immortal. It's played at funerals. At weddings. At the end of nights. It's a song that belongs to everyone now.
Dolly still performs it. She still cries sometimes. Because it's not just a song. It's a memory. A decision. A night in a basement. A cassette. A refusal. A gift.
So next time you hear that a cappella opening — 'If I should stay...' — remember. It started in a basement. With a cassette. And a woman who knew her worth.
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Elvis wanted it. She said no. Whitney took it. The rest is history.
But the story doesn't end there. Because that same cassette also held 'Jolene.' And 'Jolene' would go on to have its own strange, wonderful life. Impersonators. Drag queens. Cover versions. A legacy that's still growing.
Next: 9 to 5, impersonators, and the legacy of a writing night. The cassette that changed everything. We're not done yet.
9 to 5, Impersonators, and the Legacy of a Writing Night
Rewind the tape. That cassette again. Two songs. One night. Dolly Parton called it “a really good writing night.” What if “Jolene” and “I Will Always Love You” were born in the same session? She’s never confirmed it outright, but she’s hinted. And that’s the kind of legend that sticks. A single night. Two classics. That’s not a session. That’s a lightning strike.
But Dolly didn’t stop at one miracle night. She kept writing. Kept turning life into lyrics. And sometimes, she didn’t even need a guitar. Just a movie set, a bored moment, and those acrylic nails.
Cut to 1980. Dolly is on the set of 9 to 5. She’s playing Doralee Rhodes, the secretary who turns the tables on her sexist boss. Jane Fonda is producing. Lily Tomlin is co-starring. Colin Higgins is directing. The film runs 109 minutes and becomes a comedy classic. But Dolly? She’s not just acting. She’s watching. Listening. Tapping.
Those nails. Long. Acrylic. They click against the desk between setups. Like a typewriter. Click. Click. Click. A rhythm. A beat. A song waiting to happen.
Jane Fonda had a deal with Dolly: write the theme song. Dolly said yes. But she didn’t sit down at a piano. She wrote on set. In the moment. Lyrics on the fly. The clack of her nails became the clack of a typewriter in the song’s intro. That’s not production. That’s inspiration.
“9 to 5” became a number one hit. The movie became a franchise. A musical. A cultural touchstone. And Dolly? She proved she could write on demand. But more than that, she proved she could write from life. Even when life was a movie set.
Fast-forward to 2020. The Graham Norton Show. Dolly is a remote guest. She’s there to talk about her book, Dolly Parton, Songteller: My Life in Lyrics. But Graham has a trick up his sleeve. A Dolly impersonator named Mary is standing by. And Mary doesn’t know Dolly is listening.
The phone rings. Mary answers. Graham asks about her Dolly impression. Mary says people hire her more for looks than voice. Graham pushes. Mary does the accent. Then Graham says, “I’m with someone who sounds extraordinarily like Dolly Parton.” Mary listens. Dolly speaks. Mary thinks it’s a joke. Then the reveal. “It is Dolly.” Mary freaks out. “YOU’RE LYING.” Dolly laughs. The audience cheers.
But it gets better. Mary mentions “Islands in the Stream.” Dolly says, “For that you need a Kenny.” And Graham has one. A Kenny Rogers impersonator named Mark. He’s been doing the song for 22 years. They patch him through. Mary and Mark sing the chorus over the phone. Off-key. On-brand. Hilarious. Human.
Dolly loves it. She’s said it before: “If I hadn’t have been a girl, I’d have been a drag queen.” She means it. Impersonators aren’t a threat. They’re a tribute. A compliment. A reflection. She sees the joy. She feels the love. And she gives it right back.
That’s the legacy. Not just the songs. The moments. The writing night. The nails on the desk. The phone call. The laughter. Dolly Parton didn’t just write “Jolene” and “I Will Always Love You.” She lived them. And she keeps living them. Every time someone puts on a wig. Every time someone sings along. Every time someone picks up a cassette and hits play.
So replay the tape. Two songs. One night. A writing session that gave the world heartbreak and hope. Dolly’s legacy isn’t just the hits. It’s the moment they were born. And the moments they keep creating.
But what about the songs that didn’t become hits? Dolly wrote 3,000. We’ll dig into the ones that got away.
