Jake Brennan

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 Scratchland.

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 ten 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 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 Ronstadt 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 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.