There’s a lot of people I wish I’d had the chance to really get to know.
Like that dinner-party discussion, Three Famous Dinner Guests, I’d be inviting Dolly Parton because she seems like one of those rare people who could walk into any room in the world and make everybody feel better about being there.
Alongside her I might have a fella with the initials JC, and probably Weary Dunlop. But that’s a story for another time.
Back to Dolly. I did wonder whether I should write about her, given she probably isn’t the first person people would expect to see in Being Barra.
Then I bumped into Dave my local The Big Issue seller on Rokeby Road and he was listening to Jolene, so I thought that’ll do me. My Seven colleague Angela Tsun is also a huge Dolly fan, so much so that one of her dogs is actually named Dolly.
Yes Dolly Parton was one of those unique beings that somehow was universally loved.
I read she is the only superstar in the history of entertainment to have a 100 per cent approval rating.
In this cynical, sometimes cruel world, that is quite an achievement don’t you think.
She began her career singing Dumb Blonde, stood barely five feet tall, came from a desperately poor family in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and ended up becoming one of the biggest entertainers in the world.
And somehow, despite all her fame and fortune, she never seemed to become impressed with herself. That’s what Australians loved about her most I reckon.
She was incredibly successful without ever seeming like she needed you to know how successful she was.
She’s sold more than 100 million records, wrote some of this planet’s most recognisable songs, created a global literacy program and yet she still had the personality of the favourite auntie who’d send you home with a plate of sandwiches.
And she was always in on the joke, mostly about herself. Her hair, her clothes, her make-up, her famous figure.
She knew exactly what people were thinking and was perfectly happy to play along.
When Dolly returned to Australia in 2011 for the first time in 25 years, it took her barely 10 minutes on stage in Perth before she brought up the subject everyone was thinking about.
She picked up a banjo and said: “You ever picked one of these banjos that has the back on it? They are heavy. That’s how I built up my chest.”
Then, just in case anyone missed the joke, she added: “Well, that’s one of the ways. It was the cheapest way.”
And there it was. No embarrassment. No pretending. No celebrity ego. Dolly was always in on the joke.
Most celebrities spend their lives trying to look better than they actually are. Dolly spent hers becoming more Dolly.
She knew the hair was outrageous. She knew the clothes were over the top. She knew what people thought about her appearance. And rather than run from it, she turned the whole thing into part of the act. Dolly once said: “There’s no such thing as a real Dolly Parton.”
But then she added something I think is the key to understanding her: “Even though I look phoney, my heart ain’t.”
And that might be her greatest legacy. Because underneath all the rhinestones was a remarkable generosity. Her Imagination Library has provided millions of free books to children.
She came from very humble beginnings and never forgot what it felt like to have very little. She understood that giving a child a book isn’t just giving them something to read.
You’re giving them somewhere to go.
People sometimes made the mistake of thinking she’s simply a funny country singer with a big personality. No way, this lady was a global brand, a giant corporation in high heels.
And we were lucky enough to get a close-up look at her here in Perth. I actually saw Dolly twice, in 2011 at the old Burswood Dome and again at RAC Arena in 2014.
Although the first Perth visit nearly became an international transport incident before she’d even sung a note. Dolly insisted on bringing her enormous American tour bus to Australia.
The Australian authorities looked at it and basically said: “Absolutely not.”
It was about 14m-long, nearly 2m longer than permitted, too wide, overweight and the doors opened on the wrong side for Australian roads.
And guess who came to the rescue? Yes the current PM, then Federal Infrastructure and Transport Minister, Anthony Albanese.
Yes, Albo stepped in and helped negotiate a way through the red tape.
Imagine that on your political resume. Infrastructure Minister, saved Dolly Parton’s bus.
And Dolly was so grateful she reportedly joked about covering him in lip gloss.
That’s the perfect Dolly Parton story. She arrives in Australia with a bus that doesn’t comply with the road rules, convinces a big wig fan to intervene on her behalf and somehow everybody ends up loving her even more.
It felt like she belonged to us all. And maybe that’s why so many people are sad. We didn’t just lose a superstar.
We lost someone who somehow made the world feel a little kinder.
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