THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, August 31, 1995 TAG: 9508300012
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A20 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: EDITORIAL NOTEBOOK
LENGTH: Medium: 54 lines
In Patsy Cline's hometown of Winchester, money is talking and the town is listening in a way it never listened when she sang.
Money is saying, ``Look, Winchester, I know you didn't care much for Patsy back when she was a local party girl known to go walking after midnight. I know you still looked down your municipal nose at the gal even after she ran off to Nashville and got herself famous. Heck, you didn't even like her dead - after that plane crash in 1963. But Winchester, she called you home, and you can cash in on that. Look at Graceland! OK, maybe Patsy wasn't Elvis, but her voice was as pretty and strong as a one hundred dollar bill.''
And so Winchester, the Shenandoah Valley town that never gave Patsy the time of day, is throwing its first Patsy Cline Festival this weekend, with the hope that thousands of her fans will flock there bearing money.
Winchester never gave Patsy the key to the city, never had a day for her. When Virginian-Pilot staff writer Mike D'Orso visited Winchester in 1988, the jukeboxes played other artists' records, and no highway signs at the city limits informed travelers that Patsy Cline - she of the powerful, aching, clear voice - was born and buried there.
According to an Associated Press report in this paper Monday, ``As recently as 1986, the Winchester City Council rejected plans to name a street after Cline. But six years ago, a local real-estate developer convinced city leaders that honoring the country queen would be good for business. The city put up a sign declaring itself to be Cline's hometown and filled a display case in the visitor center with the singer's records.''
Now, finally, Patsy Cline is to be honored with a whole festival. Her fans can visit the high school she quit after her sophomore year in order to work to help support her mother, brother and sister - after her father deserted them. Her fans can sip sodas at the pharmacy where she tossed sodas for next to nothing. A band (The Washington Post said ``a live band'') will play her songs. Pity any woman who attempts to sing like Patsy.
If the Patsy Cline Festival makes money, she'll be honored in her hometown year after year after year. If the festival makes money hand over fist, she'll become, in death, a favorite daughter, with only the older residents remembering that they despise her. If the festival fails to make money, the town that forgot her once will forget her again. Smaller towns seeking to claim her can have her.
Maybe money won't buy you love and respect, in life or death, but it surely is persuasive.
PATRICK K. LACKEY, staff writer ILLUSTRATION: PATSY CLINE
by CNB