Eulogy: Tammy Wynette

The first time I saw her in person was in the early '70s at one of my father's "guitar pulls" in his living room, when a lot of musicians and songwriters previewed their new work. I was about 19 years old, with purplish hair and insouciance to spare, and the honored guests were George Jones and Tammy Wynette. I sat slack-jawed and transfixed as they sang (We're Not) the Jet Set. ("No, We're not the Jet Set/ We're the old Chevrolet set/ Our steak and martini/ Is draft beer with weenie"*). She sat on the plush blue antique sofa, hair poufed...

Want the full story?

Subscribe Now


Get TIME the way you want it

  • One Week Digital Pass — $4.99
  • Monthly Pay-As-You-Go DIGITAL ACCESS$2.99
  • One Year ALL ACCESSJust $30!   Best Deal!
    Print Magazine + Digital Edition + Subscriber-only Content on

Learn more about the benefits of being a TIME subscriber

If you are already a subscriber sign up — registration is free!