Honky Tonk Angel (6 page)

As Jenny Peer remembered, “The first time I saw her, I knew there was trouble ahead. Patsy was a woman any man would take a second look at. I warned
Bill, ‘Be careful. You know what she’s like. She’ll use you and dump you.’ But Bill fell in love and love’s blind.

“He saved everything from two jobs and went into debt to help Patsy. He became her manager, bought her clothes, and attempted to get her a record contract. He was on the phone constantly to friends in Nashville about taking Patsy there.”

Did Patsy fall in love with Bill? “I knew she was never in love with Bill, but he wouldn’t let her alone. Patsy was complex. She had these two quite interesting sides. She was tough as nails and tender-hearted, too. She wanted to get ahead. She had her dreams. Her goals were set. With Bill, she saw an opportunity.”

It’s alleged by several local people that Patsy, to advance her goals, would “avail herself for special favors.” A rampant rumor is that “some of her best performances” took place in front of the camera, posing with male companions. A Moose Lodge regular and early owner of a Polaroid, who was often asked to snap pictures for friends, denied knowledge of Patsy doing such things.

Another person, who enjoyed an intimate friendship with Patsy, said, “Quite frankly, Patsy was accused of doing a lot of things. It was just talk. Sometimes it was a way of getting back at her. A lot of guys came on to Patsy and, if she wasn’t interested, she made no bones about telling them where to go. That wasn’t the way things were done. On the other hand, if Patsy was interested, she’d grab your hand and lead the way.”

Roy Deyton, who played upright bass, lead guitar, and fiddle in the band, noted, “Patsy was a great asset to the band. The way she sang and moved, she brought a whole new dimension to what we did. Audiences loved her, but Patsy wouldn’t necessarily win any Miss Congeniality awards. If you stood in the way of something she wanted, she’d either sweet-talk you or bulldoze right over you. But it soon became quite clear never to say anything the least bit detracting about Patsy. Bill wouldn’t stand for it.”

Bill and Patsy became inseparable. He urged her to follow her dreams and told her she was a born star. Peer began grooming her for that big day. Those close to them describe how Bill took the rough-hewn singer that was Virginia Hensley and transformed her into a dynamic country belter.

Peer made many promises. Realistically and financially, he was able to deliver on very few of them. He was a small fish in a big pond. Though he had contacts with Nashville stars when they toured through the area, to them he was a respected local musician whom they could call on in a jam or use for backup. Regionally, however, Bill was well known and had connections. It was his goal to record Patsy. He produced and circulated a number of demonstration tapes of Patsy’s vocals.

If Patsy was to be a star, he wanted her to be his star. He talked endlessly of how crazy in love with Patsy he was, how much he wanted to marry her. Patsy pointed out that there was his wife and son. Peer called Patsy several times a day. He wanted to spend every possible moment with her. Late at night, after he’d worked two jobs, he’d drive to Winchester just to sit in the car and talk to Patsy. When he couldn’t be with her, he’d mope and say how much he missed her.

Bill became obsessed with Patsy. He wanted to get a divorce and marry her. She wouldn’t hear of it. Many times Bill told her, “Honey, I can’t live without you.” Patsy would reply, “Oh, Bill! Stop carrying on. You know my career comes first.”

There are several mutual friends who said Patsy led Bill on. Others point out that she constantly reminded him that marriage wasn’t something she was contemplating. Or was it?

Suddenly, in December 1952, Patsy shocked her mother and friends with the news that she had decided “to mend [her] evil ways and settle down.” She announced she was getting married.

Everyone knew Bill was in love with Patsy, but he was already married.

“I know that,” she told friends. “But it ain’t Bill.”

It was someone none of Patsy’s intimates knew. To most of them, he was a most unlikely candidate. Peer was stunned and felt betrayed.

Gerald Cline was, perhaps, the most fascinating man in Patsy’s life. One can only be puzzled by her attraction to him, especially at a time when she was involved in a torrid affair with Bill.

Gerald was born in 1925, the son of Earl Hezekiah and Lettie Viola Cline. His father owned a contracting and excavating company in Frederick, Maryland, and had an impressive home at 436 East Patrick Street.

Cline’s brother Nevin stated, “Gerald liked flashy cars and women. He gave the impression he owned the family business and had plenty of money. He never had anything until Dad died. He was Saturday night rich—after payday—and Monday morning poor. He’d take the girls out one night a week. That’s all he could afford.

“He never lifted a finger to help us. Gerald was supposed to drive one of the trucks, but he’d only do it if he was forced. Dad finally gave up on him and, in the end, made him secretary of the company, but I don’t know what he ever did even in that position. He was good at one thing, being a ladies’ man. Gerald sealed the bonds of matrimony several times and, I think, each time with invisible glue.”

“When you boiled away all the grandiose bravado—b.s., in other words,” observed Patsy’s friend Fay Crutchley, “you had to like Gerald. He was always good for a laugh. There was only one problem. You never knew when he was telling the truth. He’d be carrying on and I’d be laughing and calling him a lie bag.”

In 1943, Gerald marched Ruth Moser up the aisle only because he was forced to by both families. She was three months pregnant. “Gerald immediately went to live on the Moser farm to avoid the draft [through a farm exemption],” reported Nevin. “Gerald and Ruth were divorced in late 1947—after the war, please note!” Ruth took him to court a few months later, suing him for nonsupport of their son, Ronnie.

“Dad never paid much attention to me when I was growing up,” charged the son. “Hardly anybody knew he was my father. I haven’t seen or heard from him in years.”

Gerald began dating Evelyn Lenhart before his divorce from Ruth was final. They moved into the second floor of Nevin and Dorothy Cline’s two-family house in Braddock Heights.

“We’re total opposites,” noted Nevin. “Gerald was like Dad, I was like Mom. But Dad had drive and ambition. Gerald had none. He’d have been perfect for the
hippie movement. He never liked to stay in one place long, or with any one person. He was a swinger.”

The relationship between Gerald and Evelyn was shaky at best. While she was at work, he thought nothing of bringing women to the house. “Evelyn set traps to catch him,” Nevin reported, “and when she’d find him fooling around or hear that he was, she’d beat the tar out of him. Then, when she’d leave for work, Evelyn would push Gerald into the closet and lock him in. He’d yell and cry like a baby, but neither Dorothy or me dared let him out until Evelyn was way down the street.”

The couple stayed together four years. When they split, Gerald played the field, spending part of Saturday nights at the Moose dances. On October 11, 1952, the five-foot-eight, 220-pound Gerald, dressed as usual to the nines, arrived to find an addition to the band.

“It may not have been love at first sight when Patsy saw me,” Gerald Cline said, laughing, “but it was for me. I walked into the party room on the second floor, the band came on, and there she was. She knocked me out! During the first break, I went to meet her and see if she’d join me for a drink. When I was finally able to get her to one side, Bill was right behind her hanging on to Patsy and our every word.”

Gerald didn’t let that deter him.

“Hi, I’m Gerald Cline,” he told Patsy, taking her by the hand. “I think you’re fantastic.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“My, you’re quite a big man.”

“Yeah, and I got a new car.”

“Which of you is fastest?”

“Want me to show you?”

“We’ll see. Hang around.”

Later, telling Bill she was joining some friends, Patsy had several drinks with Gerald.

“Let me take you out,” he pleaded. “You won’t regret it!”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yeah.”

“I better not, big fellow.”

Gerald admitted going berserk over Patsy. After their first date, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He said, “If nothing else, Patsy admired my persistence.”

Though Patsy and Bill were an item, she began seeing Gerald on a regular basis. He’d drive often to Winchester, pick Patsy up, and they would travel around the area. He even brought her to work at the Lodge, right under Bill’s nose. Gerald had another way of endearing himself to Patsy—through her mother. He would bring large supplies of kerosene to the Hensley house to heat the kitchen stove and heaters. Mrs. Hensley sang his praises.

In early 1953, Fay returned to the Moose dances with her husband, Harry. She was impressed with Bill’s new singer. She spotted Gerald.

“Hey, you know all the pretty gals,” Fay said. “Who’s that fantastic singer?”

“Hi, Fay. Why that’s Patsy Cline!”

“Cline? Any kin to you?”

“You could say that. She’s my wife.”

“Gerald, you’re crazy! You’re already married. Come on, who is she?”

“I told you. She’s my wife. We just got married!”

“I can’t ever believe anything you say—”

“Well, you can believe me this time!”

He was telling the truth. On Saturday afternoon, March 7, Patsy and Gerald were married in the presence of the Reverend Paul L. Althouse in the Frederick Evangelical Reformed Church (United Church of Christ). It was a small wedding—Gerald didn’t even invite his family. Nevin didn’t know about the marriage until after the newlyweds moved into their new apartment on the second floor of 824 East Patrick Street, Frederick, a block from the Cline family home.

Close friends such as Doris Fritts of Mechanicstown, West Virginia, and Dolly Huffmeister (a future Mrs. Peer) couldn’t help but wonder why Patsy married Gerald. It soon became obvious that Patsy thought marrying Gerald would give her respectability and access to money to advance her career.

Several years later, another reason came to light.

“Patsy and I were just sitting around talking,” revealed Lois Troxell, with whose family Patsy was to live for several months, “and it came up. I asked and wasn’t prepared for the answer. Patsy said she married Gerald because he was so in love with her that he threatened to kill himself if she didn’t.”

Fay Crutchley recalled her friendship with Patsy, whom she and several other girlfriends called Pat. “I can sit right here in my living room and still see Pat sitting on the couch, laughing and doing all sorts of crazy things. Doris Fritts and I were two of Pat’s closest friends. We were buddies, confidantes, the girls she ran around town with. Pat was a down-home person—no phoniness or pretensions. If Pat wasn’t here, she was either visiting or eating supper with Doris and her parents, Melvin and Beulah, at their country store and gas station. They had a house behind and upstairs of the store.

“Doris and I idolized the way Pat sang. She had warmth and a lot of heart in her music. From the night Gerald introduced us, Pat and me had a bond that lasted until the day she died. I never got tired of being with her. Some people thought of Pat as a hard woman. Not me. For that period of the fifties, I guess Pat, as far as the way men and some women look at women, was wild and brassy. I thought of her as colorful and unique.

“Saturdays we’d spend almost the entire day together. I’d leave Frederick about twelve-thirty and meet Pat at the Moose Lodge, then sit while they rehearsed. I’d bring clothes, go to a friend’s, and change, then come back at night to meet my husband. If Doris wasn’t already there, she’d pull in and join us. We’d have a long table near the stage, and Pat would be with us off and on throughout the evening. On special occasions, like New Year’s Eve or an anniversary, Pat, Gerald, Harry, and me would have dinner before the dance. Other times, Pat would eat with Doris, who’d then drive her to the Lodge.

“Gerald was at least eight years older than Pat if he was telling the truth. I never did ask, but I could see what attracted her to him. As cocky and boastful as he was, he was fun and Pat loved a good time.”

According to Mrs. Hensley, “I thought, with her career drive, marriage would have been the furthest thing from Patsy’s mind. I liked Gerald. He was nice and
considerate. Patsy seemed to have no misconceptions about a husband slowing down her goals or sidetracking her career.”

Songwriter Lee Burrows, also a record and song promoter, got to know Patsy well. “She didn’t seem the marrying kind. Her career came first. After she married, Patsy’d say, ‘I sure surprised everybody.’ So did her choice. Here was a girl who could’ve had the pick of the crop. When I met him, I could’ve mistaken Gerald for her uncle. He was overweight, only a bit taller than Patsy, and not much in the looks department.

“But he doted on Patsy, so who’s to say he didn’t sweep her off her feet? Since Patsy’s father deserted the family when she was so young, maybe it was the age difference that attracted her. As I got to know him, he was anything but a father figure! I never heard Patsy say she loved him. She’d say things like ‘Oh, Gerald’s real nice. He wants to take care of me’ and give her this or give her that.”