"Hank Williams: Honky Tonk Blues"
William Schulz
December 1, 2005
Most TV series -- commercial and public -- run from fall to spring. Not so "American Masters," which opened its 20th season May 11 with a biography of James Dean and closed 20 weeks later with a two-part series on Bob Dylan. And once again "American Masters" delivered what viewers and critics alike have come to expect -- fascinating, informative and highly entertaining portraits of the men and women who make up America's cultural history.
This year's biography of Hank Williams is an example of "American Masters" at its very best. Williams died more than half a century ago, after a roller-coaster career of only six years. He left no in-depth interviews and only a handful of letters. Yet directors Morgan Neville and Colin Escott have created a three-dimensional portrait of an artist who made an indelible mark not just on country music but on American culture.
Born in Georgiana, Alabama, on September 17, 1923, Williams grew up with what his biographer Escott calls a "sense of apartness that never left him." A spinal condition, now thought to be spina bifida, plagued him throughout his short life. His father, who could never escape the violent memories of his service in World War I, entered a VA facility when Hank was six and saw his son only twice in the next seven years.
He was raised by a tough, resourceful mother named Lilly, who gave him a cheap guitar when he was seven. "All the musical training I ever had," he said later, came from a black street musician named "Teetot" (Rufe Payne) and the old bluesman's influence was profound.
To make ends meet, Lilly Williams ran rooming houses first in Greenville, Alabama, and then Montgomery, where her son won a local talent contest. He quit school and formed a band, the Drifting Cowboys, that played "anywhere we could" -- from bars to churches to radio station WFSA.
Williams was 23 when he recorded his first hit, "Move It On Over," and two years later was invited to join Nashville's "Grand Ole Opry" where his debut rendition of "Lovesick Blues" had the audience demanding six encores.
Despite monster hits -- "Wedding Bells," "Jambalaya," "Your Cheating Heart," "I'm So Lonely I Could Cry," "Settin' the World on Fire," "Cold, Cold Heart," "Hey, Good Lookin'," "I Can't Help It (If I'm Still in Love With You)" -- Williams could not cope with success. His drinking, a problem since his teens, grew increasingly out of control. ("Once he took a drink," a friend says, "he could not stop until he hit absolute rock bottom.")
Increasingly he missed show dates. A botched operation only worsened his spinal condition and a bogus doctor hooked him on illegal painkillers he took by the handful. Fired by the Grand Ole Opry, abandoned by the Drifting Cowboys, kicked out of their home (and divorced) by wife Audrey, he was reduced to playing hole-in-the-wall clubs across Texas and Louisiana.
Not long after, Williams married the 19-year old girlfriend of fellow singer Faron Young, Billie Jean Jones. They spent Christmas, 1952, visiting relatives in Alabama and Williams prepared to fly to his biggest appearances since being canned by the Opry -- New Year's Eve and New Year's Day shows with Homer and Jethro in Canton, Ohio.
When a blizzard forced the cancellation of Williams' flight, he hired an 18-year old taxi driver to drive him 800 miles to Canton and settled down with a bottle in the back seat of his powder blue Cadillac. Somewhere between Montgomery and Oak Hill, West Virginia, where the driver pulled into a gas station, Williams died of what the coroner said was a "severe heart attack with hemorrhage." He was 29.
Directors Neville and Escott have produced a riveting portrait despite a shortage of Williams footage (black-and-white TV was in its infancy). His biographers obtained remarkable family photos and excellent interviews with surviving band members. There are fine film clips of Roy Acuff, Ernest Tubb, George Jones, Ray Charles and Anita Carter. The insightful commentary of Escott carries the show.
"More than fifty years after his death Hank Williams ranks among the most powerfully iconic figures in American music," Escott says. "Iconic to the point that man and myth are inextricably entwined. He set the agenda for contemporary country songcraft and sang songs with such believability that we feel privy to his world . . . His brief life and tragic death have only compounded his appeal."
