My Summer With Dolly Parton
In 1987 I was going through a painful breakup. Combined with a weed addiction and my propensity for depression, I was having a tough summer. My friend Julien, a television producer, threw me a lifeline. He’d been hired for a new show called Dolly starring Dolly Parton. He offered me a production assistant gig. I leapt at the opportunity. The long hours would be a welcome distraction from my breakup blues. He gave me the address of a home in the Hollywood Hills and instructed me to arrive at 1:00 pm the following day.
“Make sure to bring your video equipment,” he said.
“Whose house,” I asked.
“Dolly’s.”
“Really?”
“Keep the address to yourself.”
I should have been nervous since Dolly was one of the biggest stars on the planet. But she wasn’t on my radar. I’d always dismissed her as a big-busted country act with ridiculous wigs and tacky gowns. My main exposure to her was the movie 9 to 5 directed by the guy who wrote Harold and Maude, one of my favorites.
I went for a haircut and swore off the weed. The next day I drove my Toyota Corolla into the Hollywood Hills past the massive tennis courts and swimming pools. I turned onto Thrasher Avenue and parked in front of a peach-colored house at the end of a cul-de-sac. I gathered my video equipment and…
