Steve’s scene
Long-time friend and publicist for the late, great Dolly Parton, Metropol culture columnist Steve Guest attempts to sum in words what the amazing lady meant to him.
I still can’t quite believe I’m writing about Dolly in the past tense. How do you sum up more than 20 years of friendship, laughter, adventures and memories in a few words? Especially when that person was Dolly Parton.
I first met Dolly in the early 2000s after being asked if I’d like to work on one of her UK tours. “Hell yeah.”
That was the beginning of a relationship that would change my life. We first met in New York City at Radio City Music Hall and just hit it off. Yes, she was Dolly Parton for goodness’ sake, but she had this extraordinary way of making you forget that. She was funny, clever, sassy and incredibly kind.
Over the years, there were world tours (Nashville, New Zealand, Australia, Europe, Glastonbury), sold-out arenas and moments when I’d stand at the side of the stage thinking, how the hell did I end up here? Strangely, those aren’t the things I’m thinking about today. I’m thinking about a catering table.
We were at Dolly’s little ranch in Nashville with some British and European journalists. She’d arranged two tables of food. One was filled with the tastes of Nashville cuisine, because she wanted them to experience a little of her home. The other had scones, jam and cream, cucumber sandwiches and pots of English tea. She wanted them to have a little reminder of their home too. That gets me every time. Because that was Dolly.
She noticed people. She remembered names. She listened. She never called interviews ‘interviews.’ They were ‘conversations’, because she genuinely wanted to know about the person sitting opposite her. She was always early too. Her reason? “Why is my time more important than anyone else’s?” That’s Dolly right there.
Then there was Glastonbury Festival, where Dolly played to the biggest live crowd of her life. My wife Anna and our then four-year-old daughter Gracie were with me. Dolly invited them onto her tour bus and sang Jolene to my little girl. No cameras. No audience. No reason to do it other than kindness. I’ll never forget it.
Dolly later told Gracie to call her Aunty Dolly. And she did. For 15 years. The rest of the world had Dolly Parton. Our Gracie had Aunty Dolly. And that’s the bit that’s getting me now.
Because beneath all those rhinestones was an even more beautiful person.
I was just incredibly lucky to get to know her.
As I write this, it’s only been 24 hours, and none of this feels real yet. I keep thinking there should be another conversation, another laugh, another ridiculous story. But I know she wouldn’t want us sitting around being sad. She would want us to celebrate her.
As the boss would say, “If you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours.”
She changed my life. She gave me memories I could never have dreamed of. And she gave my little girl an Aunty Dolly. God, how lucky were we? Thank you, Dolly. For the laughter, the adventures, the kindness and the love. We’ll miss you terribly, especially your wee letters thanking us for the fruitcakes and biscuits that you loved to receive. The world will forever know you as Dolly Parton. But to us, you’ll always be Aunty Dolly.
