DISGRACELAND - George Jones: Voices, Vices, and a Comeback for the Ages

Episode Date: June 16, 2026

George Jones possessed one of the finest and most expressive instruments God ever created: his voice, which is widely considered the greatest in country music. But he was also possessed by demons who haunted him his whole life, and heard voices that tormented and controlled him. His addictions to drugs and alcohol made him legendarily unreliable, earning him the nickname "No Show Jones." But just when George Jones was at his lowest, a song came along that would change everything - proving that his voice could still work wonders.To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership. This episode was originally published on December 26, 2024. To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to exclusive bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠disgracelandpod.com/membership⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTER Follow Jake and DISGRACELAND: Instagram YouTube X (formerly Twitter)  Facebook Fan Group TikTokSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Elvis. I'm Anna Navarro, and on my new podcast, Bleep with Anna Navarro. I'm talking to the people closest to the biggest issues happening in your community and around the world. Because I know deep down inside right now, we are all cursing and asking what the bleep is going on. Every week I'm breaking down the biggest issues happening in our communities and around the world. I'm talking to people like Julie K. Brown, who broke the explosive story on Jeffrey Epstein in 2018. The Justice Department

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Listen to Hey Jonas on the IHeart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. Just listen. We don't care where you hear it. How much you wait, Wanda? Right now, about 1.30. I'm at 183. We should race. No, I want to leave here with my original hips. On the podcast, the matchup with Liliah, I pair prominent female athletes with unexpected guests. On a recent episode, I sat down with undisputed boxing champ, Cloresa Shields, and comedians.

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Disgrace Land is a production of Double Elvis. This is a story about a country singer, a country singer who heard voices, a country singer with the greatest voice in country music history, and a country singer with demons. It's also a story of a shooting, an escape, a crash, and of course, redemption, sort of. This is the story of George Jones, a man who made great music, some of the greatest music of all time.

You're still on my mind, anyone? Seriously, find me a better country song than George Jones' is you're still on my my mind. That song is great music, and that music at the top of the show wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my Melatron called Playing Pawsome MK2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to boogie, oggy, oogie by a taste of honey. And why would I play you that specific slice of nose candy cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on September 13th, 1978, and that was the day that the demons in George Jones' head tried to convince him to murder his best friend, Earl Peanut Montgomery.

On this episode, a shooting, an escape, a crash, and the greatest singer of all time, no-show George Jones. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is the Scraestland. George Jones took a snort of powder lined up on the back of the toilet tank. Then he took a slug of whiskey from the flask in his coat pocket. He looked at the airline ticket to New York City resting on the sink. And then he stared out the bathroom window to his truck out in the parking lot, just 10 feet away.

It was September, 1977, and George Jones was standing in the Nashville offices of his record label, Epic Records. He was meeting with the label's vice president, Rick Blackburn. They were going over travel plans for George's upcoming two-night season. stand at the bottom line in Manhattan. The tiny nightclub was Greenwich Village's destination for intimate performances from a who's who of stars, from Bruce Springsteen to Linda Ronstad to Lou Reed. With a 400-person capacity, the room was a fraction of the size of George's usual audience. But this might have been the most important show, not just of George Jones's life, but in

country music history. For years, the country music industry had been looking for ways to break the genre with audiences beyond the South. Lately it had been decided that the best way to do this would be to send George Jones to enemy territory to play for a room packed with critics from Rolling Stone, Time Magazine, Newsweek, and more. One good George Jones concert would make them all country music fans for life. At least, that was the plan as Rick Blackburn explained it to George Jones just a few minutes ago in his office.

But when George contemplated the expectations that had just been laid on his shoulder, shoulders, he felt his heart start beating faster. Sweat began beating on his forehead, and he heard a voice whisper in his ear. You're a hack. You're a fraud, George. If you go on stage, you'll just let them all down because you're nothing. You better run, George. You better run while you can't.

George closed his eyes to shut out the voice, but it kept growing louder while Rick droned on in the background. George had to stop this intrusive voice. He had to make it go away. George let out a loud squawking noise. It sounded like a duck call. Rick stopped talking in mid-sentence and stared at him. George excused himself, said he needed to hit the head. Rick looked at him strangely, but just nodded.

Now, sitting in the bathroom, George was looking out the window with a flask and plane ticket in his hand, trying to decide his next move. The windowsill was old but in good condition. The white paint was slightly faded where some of the wood grain peaked. through. It reminded George of the window in the last apartment he lived in with his parents in Beaumont, Texas. He remembered lying in bed, staring at the window cell, waiting for his father to come home. Some nights, the door would open gently and click shut, and he would hear his father's feet

shuffle across the floor, pick up the guitar he had given George for Christmas, strum a few chords, and then head to bed. Other nights, it felt like an entirely different man came home. This man still looked like George's father, but his eyes were wild, and his breath burned, and his voice turned raspy and mean. He would slam the door open, sometimes with three or four friends behind him, and he would pound his feet across the living room. George would throw a blanket over his head and pretend that he was asleep, but it never did any good. George would hear his door open, then seconds later two rough hands would yank him out of bed.

This demon who had control of his father's body, who'd scream down at him to grab his guitar. He was having a party, and he needed music. If George didn't move fast enough, his father would cuff him. If he didn't sing well enough, his father would punch him. If George tried to quit playing too soon after his father passed out, sometimes his father would wake up in a fury, and then his old man would beat everyone in the family.

So, George would race across the living room and strap on his guitar. And even though his hands were shaking and his heart was pounding, He learned to quickly focus on a tune in his mind. He would close his eyes, open his mouth, and let out the words of Gene Autry or Ernest Tug, blue songs or a gospel. He could sing it all. But when he did, for a few moments, he would be transported to his favorite place in the world, out under a tree with no one else in the world, just him and a guitar singing a song.

After a dozen or so songs, George would open his eyes and he would find himself back in the living room. his father's head would be drooping with his hands still clutching the neck of a whiskey bottle. And this was the most dangerous time. George learned to keep playing the guitar, softly, as he edged towards the front window. Without missing a beat, he would use his knee to slide the window up a little bit at a time, and he'd keep singing as he slid one leg out the window, and then another. And then as quietly as possible, he would slide the window shut, humming the tune the whole way. he would creep across the porch, climb through his bedroom window, and finally fall asleep.

At least that's what happened on good nights. On other nights, George wasn't so lucky. Thirty years later, the memory still made him freeze with fear as he recalled his first live-performing experience. He thought again about New York City and the collection of fancy college-educated critics from the magazine sitting in the front row. There was no way in hell he was going to make this trip. George crumpled the plane ticket and tossed it into the trash. Then, just like when he was a boy, he eased the window open, crept out onto the porch, and made a mad dash for his truck in the parking lot, leaving Rick and his record label and the plans for New York City behind him.

A few days later on September 6, a group of journalists, including Dan Rather and Walter Cronkite, plus half the cast of Saturday Night Live and many other celebrities were packed themselves into the bottom line. George's band The Jones Boys were there, and the team from George's record label Epic Records was there too. But George Jones was nowhere to be seen. In fact, no one would find him for another two weeks before he washed up in a cheap motel in Florida. Even though George Jones never even showed up for the gig at the bottom line, it ended up having the effect that his label had hoped for. Instead of being just another performer, his no-show made George Jones a legend.

There were dozens of media reports about this real-life rebel who did as he pleased and didn't give a damn what anyone cared. Just two months later, he was voted country artist of the year in Rolling Stone's year-end critics poll. But while the legend of George Jones was growing stronger, so were the voices whispering in his ear. Those voices wanted more, more cocaine, more whiskey, and more control of George's body, of George's mind, of George's voice. And within a year, they would try to seize control permanently. Pride Month, Toronto. Pride is an opportunity for you to create your own space, to celebrate your existence. Iheart Radio is proud to be an official sponsor of Pride Toronto Festival, and we won't stop.

Celebrate Pride. Turn up the love and listen to IHeart Pride Canada. Your 24-7 radio stream and the only playlist you need for your Toronto Pride celebrations. Pride is so great because it gives a whole bunch of people. this visibility that they've never had before. We have a ton to celebrate Toronto. Happy pride. I heart radio.

Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you saw it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of family secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags are underprivile.

People's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive headfirst into the complex power of secrecy, how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything, and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him.

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George Jones eased his car to a stop beneath a massive pair of long leaf pines. From the passenger seat, the old man looked at George, and he shook his head and disgust. He raised up the 38 revolver in his hand to remind George why they were there. George stared back, but he just turned the keys and cut the car's engine. From the silence, a voice piped up from the back seat and told the old man to shut the fuck up. But the words came out like some demonic impersonation of Donald Duck. The old man turned toward the back seat and sneered. D-Doodle, he explained.

I'm just making sure he knows the plan. D-Doodle reached for the gun, but the old man held it just out of his reach. They tussled for a minute before they got bored, and then they turned their gaze towards George. Well, they both asked with questioning eyes. Oh yeah, George knew the plan. He snatched the gun from the old man. And with shaky hands, he opened the cylinder of the revolver and loaded a bullet in each chamber.

He snapped it shut and pulled back the hammer. George knew the plan all right. He was going to kill Peanut Montgomery. It was September of 1978, barely a year after his no-show at the bottom line, and George had lost everything. His mother, Clara, who died in 1974, still praying her son could get clean. The love of his life, Tammy Wynette, their storybook romance, which played out in tabloids and on-hit records,

ended in divorce in 1975. But Tammy had always left the door open to reconciliation. They even recorded a number one album together the year after they divorced. But a few weeks earlier, she'd slammed the door shut by marrying her new manager, George Ritchie. It's all your fault, the old man reminded George with a hard look in his eye.

It cut George to the core. He knew it was true. His first few years with Tammy were some of the happiest in his life. Taking the stage with Tammy by his side made him feel confident and energetic. And Tammy made the paralyzing stage fright that he usually beat back with alcohol

just a little bit less paralyzing. For a while, he barely drank more than a glass of wine or a beer here and there. But a few days after Tammy gave birth to his daughter, Georgette, the demons inside George whispered in his ear until they couldn't ignore them anymore. They went off on a bender that ended up with him being for ten days to a mental institution in Florida. The marriage never recovered after that. George began spending more time on the road without Tammy.

And without her by his side, the stage fright came back with the vengeance, and so did the drinking. Just when George thought his body couldn't take any more of the travel, the bad food and the constant need to be the life of the party on every roadhouse along the highway, he found something to take Tammy's place, something to make him feel energetic and confident. Unlike Tammy, it didn't care how much he drank, and this something was cocaine. D-Doodle hooted from the back seat salivating at the mention of the drug. George pulled out a baggie, couldn't resist a little taste. Only the old man abstained. He just shook his head and disgust. With cocaine and alcohol coursing

through George's system, it didn't take long for his marriage to unravel. Tammy filed for divorce in 1975, and George let her take everything. The house, the money, their fans, even his band, the Jones boys, they went with Tammy. It seemed like everyone had abandoned George. Everyone, that is, except his best friend, Peanut Montgomery. Hearing the name again, D-Doodle reached for the gun, but the old man slapped his hand away. He smirked at George who reminded him of the old saying, A friend in need is a friend indeed, and Pina was no friend in need. Earl Peanut Montgomery was an Alabama native,

a man who got his start as a session guitarist at the legendary fame studios in Florence, Alabama. His sister Melba had been George's duet partner of choice before Tammy. But even after Tammy kicked Melba to the curb, Peanut stayed on as George's number one drinking buddy. It didn't hurt that he played a mean guitar and wrote killer songs like George and Tammy's number one hit, we're going to hold on. Especially after Tammy left, George and Peanut raised hell in every bar room from Nashville to Alabama. Until suddenly, Peanut found himself a new running buddy. Jesus Christ.

Peanut got religion. He gave up drinking and he gave up touring with George. For George, it seemed doubly unfair. George had turned to God so many times in his darkest hours, begging for salvation, but God always ignored his prayers. God left him living in hell day after day. And just when he was at his lowest, God took the only friend George had. George seethed with rage as he felt the cold steel of the revolver in his hand.

Since he wasn't able to get to the man upstairs, he would have to settle for taking a shot at the man upstairs his newest fan. Just then, George D-Doodle and an old man saw him. headlights cresting over the top of the hill. It was Peanuts' car. As they watched the car creep nearer, the old man warned George to stick to the plan. D-Doodle cackled with a wild look in his eye. Peanut pulled his car up next to George. There was no one else in sight. He rolled down his window and slowly put his hands up on the car door, while George glared daggers at him. Peanut gave his friend a sad look. He told George he'd been praying for him. Just hearing the

word praying was enough to twist George's face into a scowl. The old man and D-Doodle whispered to him. It was almost time. Peanut said he loved George. He asked why George was persecuting him. D-Doodle and the old man looked at George. Both nodded their heads. Now, now was the time. George suddenly lifted the revolver up into view. He aimed it straight at Peanut's head and he asked the question that D-Doodle and the old man were screaming in his ear. Do you think your God is going to save you Now? And before Peanut could answer, George closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. A gunshot echoed through the creek bed, and then everything went silent. When George opened his eyes, he saw smoke rising from a bullet hole in Peanut's car

just an inch below the window. D-Doodle and the old man screamed at him to fire again. George pulled back the hammer and lined up his shot. He held the gun on Peanut for a long moment, while Peanut just stared back at him without moving. Finally, George lowered the gun. He said, well, Peanut, I guess God answered the call. And then George drove off into the darkness with smoke still curling around the bullet hole in Peanut Montgomery's car. Peanut visited the district attorney immediately after the shooting. But after learning that George could get 15 years in jail for attempted murder, he decided not to press charges.

Despite almost murdering his friend, George Jones did not slow down on his drug and alcohol. consumption. The demonic voices of Gidoodle and the old man demanded more, more cocaine, more whiskey, more control. Within a year, George's weight had plummeted to less than 100 pounds. He declared bankruptcy and was reduced to living in a car parked in an alley in downtown Nashville where he went days without eating solid food, arguing with the voices in his head. He was near death when Peanut finally convinced the judge to have George committed. In late 1979, George Jones landed at Hillcrest Psychiatric Hospital in Birmingham, Alabama. He spent 40 days drying out before he was released in January of 1980.

The first thing he did on his way out of rehab was stop and buy a six-pack. By this point, nearly everyone had written off George Jones. Tammy Wynette, Peanut Montgomery, his family, his record label, his fans, it seemed like there was only one person who still believed in George Jones. And that was his producer, Billy Shirell. Billy had seen George at his worst, arguing back and forth in the voices a deed-doodle and the old man in the middle of the recording sessions. Billy could hear the damage that Cocaine had done to George's vocal chords, but Billy knew

one song, one song could change everything. For years, Billy Shirell had perfected the art of finding songs that played off of George and Tammy's real-life relationship. Now that relationship was over, and Billy had once again found the perfect song, a finale for a love gone wrong. The kind of song only George Jones could sing, if he could just get him sober and in the studio for three minutes and 15 seconds. Even if no one else, not even George Jones believed it,

Billy Shirel knew that this was the song that could put George Jones back on top. We'll be right back after this word, word, word, word. Pride Month, Toronto. Pride is an opportunity for you to create your own space, to celebrate your existence. Iheart Radio is proud to be an official sponsor of Pride Toronto Festival, and we won't stop. Celebrate Pride. Turn up the love and listen to IHeart Pride Canada, your 24-7 radio stream and the only playlist you need for your Toronto Pride celebrations. Pride is so great because it gives a whole bunch of people this visibility that they've never had before. We have a ton to celebrate Toronto.

Happy Pride. Thank you. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you saw it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of family secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive headfirst into the complex power of secrecy,

how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything, and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off,

and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to Season 14 of Family Secrets on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Chris Fairbanks. And I'm Karen Kogarif. We host Do You Need a Ride, the mobile comedy podcast that answers the question,

what does it sound like when we drive our comedian friends around the wild streets of Los Angeles? Yes, every week we pick up a hilarious guest, maybe run some errands, share some laughs, and our dreams. Like when Martha Kelly shared her career pivot. I want to become an influential,

of divorced moms whose kids have gone off to college who have decided they're going to start living life for themselves. Or the time Baron Vaughn got distracted by the majestic scenery. Then there's a freaking deer right there on this side of the road. Holy shit. Eating freaking road grass. Road grass. I wish you said glass.

New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Do You Need a Ride on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Thank you. You're welcome. A Vivaldi Concerto swelled to life filling the room with the sounds of violins. Music sweet enough to soothe even the most savage beast. The melody kept rising to a thundering climax,

when suddenly a needle scratched across the record and the music suddenly cut out. George Jones shot straight up off the couch. He yelled and started swinging wildly at anything within arm's reach. Fortunately, he only made contact with a few. mic stands, which crashed harmlessly to the floor. He looked across the room and saw his producer, Billy Shirel, holding the needle above the record that was still spinning on the turntable. Billy gave George a look that said it was time to get to work, time to finish this piece of shit song. George glared at Billy for waking him up. Before he could say anything, though,

deedoodle the duck squawked out, Ronchio, in Billy's direction. The old man just rolled his eyes from where he sat on the couch. George stared at D-Doodle until he sat down quietly on the couch next to the old man. And with everything quiet, George nodded toward Billy, rubbed his temples, and walked up to the mic. It was February, 1980. George was only a month out of rehab, but he was already sliding back in familiar patterns. There was one nice thing about drying out for 40 days, though. It punctured a hole in his cocaine-induced haze. D-Doodle and the old man were still hovering over his shoulder, but at least their voices weren't quite as loud. George had spent the last four hours passed out on a couch in the corner of the main

tracking room at Columbia's Studio B on Nashville's Music Row, which meant he hadn't taken a drink in four hours, which meant he was probably the most sober Billy Shirel had seen him in months. If they were ever going to finish this downer of a song, this was probably their best chance. As Billy rewound the tape in the control room, George looked around the galvanized steel hut that made up Columbia's Studio B. Most artists these days like tracking in Columbia's more modern Studio A, but George and Billy

still like the old Quonset Hut on the back of the property. The room had history. When producer Owen Bradley opened the studio in the 1950s, it was the first music business on the street. By the time he sold it a decade later, they were calling the block Music Row. The room

had personal history for Billy and for George, too. Here, Billy had charted the ups and downs of George and Tammy's love affair from the rosy early days with ballads like Take Me to the hints of stormy weather and we're going to hold on and on through the fading love of Golden Ring. Now, Billy was trying to get George to finish the song that he was convinced would be the perfect finale for the George and Tammy saga, even if no one else, not even George Jones, believed it. Billy kept saying it was the song that would put George back on top. They had been working on the song for a year. George was sick of it. The song was too sad, too cheesy,

and the melody was too much like Chris Christopherson's helped me make it through the night, which George kept mistakenly singing, whenever he showed up sober enough to sing, that is. Billy kept having his songwriters rewrite the song over and over, and that was another thing that was bugging George. Now Billy had him doing a spoken word section in the middle of the song. George hated it, no matter how stone or how dived.

drunk he was, he could always sing. But speaking was a different story. Every time he tried to record the middle section, his words came out slurred. George slipped on his headphones as Billy queued up the first notes of the song. He turned back to the couch and saw the deed-doodle and the old man were gone. And as the song began to play, George closed his eyes. He imagined he was out in a field, all alone, just him in the song. And he opened his mouth and let all of his pain and sorrow poured into the microphone. He sang about love, love that lasts a lifetime, love that brings only pain until the very end. He gritted his teeth and made it through the spoken word section and finished the song with a chorus that raised goosebumps on Billy's arms. Billy knew they'd captured it.

After nearly 18 months, he stopped loving her today, was finally finished. Billy knew it would be a number one hit. George, however, felt differently. As soon as he finished singing, he heard the voice of the old man return. No one wants to hear another sad George Jones song. It hurt, but George knew the old man was right. He looked at Billy and set his peace. Ain't nobody going to buy that morbid son of a bitch. And then he walked out the door.

It turned out George could not have been more wrong. When he stopped loving her today, came out on April 14th. There was a huge response right out of the gate. Radio DJs and critics were thrilled to hear something approaching the George Jones of old. Fans rushed out to buy the record. Just as Billy Sherell predicted, the song went to number one on the country chart in July of 1980. George won a Grammy for Best Country Male Vocal for He stopped loving her today. And that song was named the Academy of Country Music Song of the Year, not once but twice in both 1980 and in 1981.

Over the next two years, George's comeback continued. He was nowhere near as low as the days when he was living in a car and screaming at the voices in his head, but his demons still found ways to whisper into his ear. There was a drunken award show performance in 1981 and an embarrassing DUI stop that ended up on the local news in 1982. Fortunately for George Jones, however, that year he also began dating Nancy Savilado, the woman who would become his fourth and final wife. Through her love and dedication, she managed to slowly put George back towards her. the land of the living. He quit missing tour dates. He got his debts in order. He became more

present in the lives of his children, and George Jones was finally able to give up drugs and drinking. George performed sober for the first time in decades in 1984. Fans were delighted to hear that his singing voice, once ravaged by cocaine, was coming back stronger and stronger with each new release. And with a run of hit singles like She's My Rock, George gave all the credit for his turn around to Nancy. It was a happy ending that no one could have predicted just a few years earlier. George Jones was finally able to move on past Tammy Wynette. He was finally able to leave his demons behind for good. That's how the story went in all of the songs. But that's the thing about a song. It doesn't always tell the whole truth.

George Jones weaved his Lexus SUV through a busy stretch of I-65 in Nashville. He had his cell phone pressed to his ear as early mixes from his latest album blasted from the car speakers. It was just after 1 p.m. on March 6, 1999. Over the sound of the music, George could hear a faint whisper. He glanced in the rearview mirror, but the back seat was empty. He changed lanes and passed a sedan. He looked back again and nearly jerked the wheel. into a guardrail when he saw a deed doodle and the old man staring back at him.

George shook his head and tried to focus on the road. Suddenly, a second deed-doodle was sitting across from him in the passenger seat. He yelled at George to pull onto the shoulder and past the minivan in front of him, and then he reached under his seat and pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka and took a swig. George tried to ignore the voice he heard, but the yelling kept getting louder and louder. Finally, he slammed his foot on the gas and jumped onto the shoulder. As soon as he swerved to the left, he saw the traffic cones, construction on the bridge ahead. But he was going too fast.

He clipped two of them before swerving back to the right and nearly ramming into the van. He slammed on the brakes and pulled the wheel back to the left, and the heavy sport utility vehicle groaned and nearly tipped before slamming back to the ground. It spun around once and then slammed directly into a concrete pillar. George could hear D-Doodle cackling as the airbag smashed into his face. He felt the pain ripped through his side. He was pinned in the car and he couldn't move and it hurt to breathe. George wondered if this time he was finally dying for real.

Stuck in his seat, waiting for the ambulance to arrive, George could still see the half-empty vodka bottle spinning around like a top before it came to rest on the floor under the passenger seat. After George and Nancy married in 1983, George's demons disappeared. He quit drinking, except for the occasional beer or glass of wine. That's the story he told reporters or radio DJs when they asked. But the truth was, well, it was more complicated. With Nancy's help, George clearly became a more dependable performer in the 1980s and 90s.

Judging from the improvement in his singing voice, he'd pulled back from cocaine. But George never fully left his demons behind. behind. He just got better at hiding them. As he listened to the ambulance sirens approaching from the distance, George could feel himself hovering at the edge of unconsciousness. He wondered if his father felt this way when he passed on. The old man died 30 years ago. Later in life, he'd supposedly quit drinking too. He and George had patched up their fractured relationship the best they could. It was a happy ending. But George remembered a few days after his father's funeral in Texas. They were burning some brush to clear it from the farmland where his parents spent their final years.

A few minutes after they set the fire, they were surprised by a series of explosions that rattled the windows inside the house. Apparently, George's father had been stashing bottles of liquor out in the field so he could grab a quick drink. But back in the SUV, it took two hours, but the paramedics eventually pulled George out. He'd suffered a punctured lung and a torn liver. and although his voice never returned to full strength, he was able to return to the stage in the studio within a year's time. The police found the half-empty bottle of vodka in the car, but they never charged him with any crime. Afterward, George Jones claimed that the crash was the wake-up call he needed to go

completely sober for the remainder of his life. And who knows, maybe that's exactly what he did. Regardless, though, it seems clear that, just like his father, George Jones was haunted until the day he died. He found love, but he never found peace. No matter how many number one records he made, no matter how many concert tickets he sold, no matter how far he traveled from a living room in Beaumont, Texas. George Jones's demons kept whispering in his ear

for the whole ride. And that's a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. All right, George Jones, my favorite country singer of all times. I'm Elvis Costello's favorite as well. Who's your favorite country singer? That's this week's question of the week.

Who is your favorite country singer? And why do you love the sweet, sad sound of their voice so much? Let me know. 617-906-66-6638. Leave me a voicemail, send me a text. Let me know. You can also reach me at Disgraceland Pod as well on Instagram, X, and Facebook. Leave a review for the show on Apple Podcast or Spotify and win some free merch.

All right. Here comes some credits. Disgraceland was created by yours truly. It is produced in partnership with. double Elvis, the Exactly Right Network, and IHeart Podcasts. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it.

And if not, you can become a member right now by going to disgracelandpod.com slash membership. Members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland ad free. Rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook at And on YouTube at YouTube.com slash at disgraceland pod, rockerola. Joy is essential and it's also elusive. But now, there's a new and exciting way to start your journey toward a more joyful existence. Joy 101. It's a new podcast hosted by me, Hoda Kotby.

If you're craving inspiration to maximize your joy, tune into these candid, uplifting, and moving on-air chats. Open your free IHeart Radio app. Joy 101 and listen now. Joy 101 with Hoda Cotfi is presented by CVS. Hey, it's us to Jonas Brothers, and guess what? We have some big news. What's the news, name?

Huge news. We created our own podcast called Hey Jonas. How do we actually come up with a name Hey Jonas, guys? I honestly don't remember. We were talking about a bit for the podcast where people could call in and say, Hey Jonas, and then I wrote down on my little notepad, Hey Jonas, Jonas, and offered it up as a potential title for the podcast. But thanks for remembering that, guys. Listen to Hey Jonas on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Just listen. We don't care where you hear it. I'm Anna Navarro. And on my new podcast, Bleep with Anna Navarro. I'm talking to the people closest to the biggest issues happening in your community and around the world. Because I know deep down inside right now, we are all cursing and asking what the bleep is going on. Every week I'm breaking down the biggest issues happening in our communities and around the world. I'm talking to people like Julie K. Brown, who broke the explosive story on Jeffrey Epstein in 2018.

The Justice Department through, we counted four presidential administrations, failed these victims. Listen to Bleep with Anna Navarro on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast.