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By the fall of 1982, Marty Robbins had already spent more than a decade living on borrowed time, and almost nobody around him could convince him to behave like a man with a damaged heart. His first major heart attack came in August 1969, followed five months later by bypass surgery at a time when the procedure was still considered experimental. The operation worked well enough that Robbins returned not only to recording and the Grand Ole Opry, but to stock-car racing, where he continued driving at speeds that would have frightened men with perfectly healthy hearts. He was back in NASCAR competition by October 1970 and, after briefly stepping away following several wrecks, returned again in 1977. The contradiction became part of his life. Doctors had repaired blocked arteries, yet Robbins kept filling his calendar with concerts, recording sessions and race weekends, treating recovery less like a warning than permission to keep moving. One of his physicians later remembered that before agreeing to the first bypass operation, Marty wanted reassurance that he would still be allowed to race, and within weeks of leaving the hospital he was already back doing physical work around home. By 1982, the gamble seemed to be paying off in ways few aging country singers experienced. “Some Memories Just Won’t Die” became a Top Ten hit in May, Billboard honored him with its Artist Resurgence Award in October, and that same month Robbins was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. Nearly thirty years after his first national success, the man behind “El Paso” was not being treated as a relic; he was enjoying one of the strongest late-career stretches of his life. He was still racing as late as November. Then, on December 2, after performing in Cincinnati the previous night, Robbins woke at home with severe chest pain and walked into St. Thomas Hospital in Nashville. Tests showed that a massive heart attack had cut off blood flow to a major section of his heart, forcing surgeons into an emergency operation to repair earlier bypasses and add another. He survived the surgery, briefly smiled and squeezed a nurse’s hand, but the damage was too severe for his body to recover. For six days, his wife Marizona and their children remained at the hospital while doctors used a respirator, medications, dialysis and a balloon pump to keep his failing heart working. Robbins died on December 8, 1982, only eight weeks after entering the Country Music Hall of Fame and one month after his final NASCAR race. At his funeral in Nashville, roughly 1,500 people filled the chapel, adjoining rooms and hallways while Johnny Cash, June Carter Cash, Charley Pride, Porter Wagoner, Brenda Lee and other friends gathered with ordinary fans who had traveled through the night to be there. Marty Robbins had spent thirteen years after his first heart attack doing nearly everything doctors might have expected him to surrender. He kept singing, kept racing, returned to the charts, and lived long enough to watch country music place his name in its Hall of Fame before the heart he had repeatedly pushed back into service finally stopped.

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MARTY ROBBINS KEPT RACING AFTER HEART SURGERY—THEN LIVED LONG ENOUGH TO ENTER THE HALL OF FAME

By the fall of 1982, Marty Robbins had already spent more than a decade refusing to live like a man with a damaged heart.

His first major heart attack came in August 1969. Five months later, he underwent bypass surgery at a time when the procedure was still relatively new.

The operation saved his life.

Marty treated it almost like permission to keep moving.

He Wanted to Know If He Could Still Race

Before agreeing to surgery, one of his doctors later remembered Robbins asking whether he would still be allowed to drive race cars.

The answer mattered to him.

Within weeks of leaving the hospital, he was already doing physical work around home. By October 1970, he was back in NASCAR competition.

He would step away after several wrecks, then return again in 1977.

For most people, heart surgery would have narrowed life.

Marty kept widening his.

The Contradiction Became Normal

Concerts continued.

Recording sessions continued.

So did race weekends.

Robbins lived between the Grand Ole Opry and stock-car tracks, repeatedly pushing a heart that doctors had already repaired once.

It was reckless by almost any medical standard.

It was also completely consistent with the way he seemed determined to live.

1982 Looked Like a Comeback

Thirteen years after the first heart attack, Marty was enjoying one of the strongest late-career stretches of his life.

“Some Memories Just Won’t Die” became a Top Ten hit in May 1982.

In October, Billboard honored him with its Artist Resurgence Award.

That same month, Marty Robbins was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.

Nearly thirty years after his first national success, the singer behind “El Paso” was not being remembered in retirement.

He was still working.

One More Race

Marty was still racing in November.

Then, on December 2, after performing in Cincinnati the previous night, he woke at home with severe chest pain and went to St. Thomas Hospital in Nashville.

Doctors discovered that a massive heart attack had cut blood flow to a large section of his heart.

Surgeons attempted another emergency operation, repairing earlier bypasses and adding another.

Marty survived the surgery.

For a moment, he even smiled and squeezed a nurse’s hand.

Six Days

The damage was too severe.

For six days, doctors used a respirator, medications, dialysis and a balloon pump to keep his failing heart working.

His wife Marizona and their children remained nearby.

On December 8, 1982, Marty Robbins died.

He was fifty-seven.

Only eight weeks had passed since his induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame.

His final NASCAR race had been only a month earlier.

What Those Thirteen Extra Years Really Leave Behind

At Marty’s funeral in Nashville, roughly 1,500 people filled the chapel, adjoining rooms and hallways.

Johnny Cash, June Carter Cash, Charley Pride, Porter Wagoner and Brenda Lee were among those who came, alongside fans who had traveled through the night.

Marty Robbins had spent thirteen years after his first heart attack doing nearly everything doctors might have expected him to give up.

He kept recording.

He kept racing.

He returned to the charts.

And he lived long enough to see country music place his name in its Hall of Fame before the heart he had repeatedly pushed back into service finally stopped.

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When Townes Van Zandt divorced Jeanene Munsell in 1994, he walked away without the most valuable thing he had spent his life building: the rights to his own songs. Townes and Jeanene had met in Austin in December 1980 while he was still legally married to his second wife. They eventually married on March 14, 1983, only ten days before the birth of their son, William Vincent, and later had a daughter, Katie Belle. Their marriage lasted eleven years, through the same period when songs such as “Pancho and Lefty” and “If I Needed You” were becoming increasingly valuable in the hands of other artists. The divorce settlement went far beyond a house or a bank account. According to the decree reproduced in a major Van Zandt biography, Jeanene received Townes’s interest in 126 compositions, including the copyrights, renewals and the writer’s share of future royalties. The transfer covered songs spread across several publishing catalogs and left Townes relying largely on the money he could still earn by performing on the road. Friends found the arrangement difficult to understand because Townes had never treated money with much urgency. Susanna Clark later remembered that even after the separation he would return from touring and hand Jeanene whatever cash he had in his pockets, while others close to him believed he had surrendered far more than most songwriters ever would. Townes and Jeanene remained close after the divorce, and she was still part of the family circle near the end of his life. By then, the songs he had signed away were continuing to travel far beyond him through recordings by Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris and others. Townes Van Zandt spent much of his life with little interest in possessions, but the divorce made that indifference permanent on paper. He could still stand onstage and sing “Pancho and Lefty,” yet much of the financial value created by the song no longer belonged to him.

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Before Townes Van Zandt became one of the most revered songwriters in American music, doctors put him through months of insulin shock and electroshock treatment that reportedly erased large parts of his long-term memory. In 1964, his family brought the twenty-year-old college student back to Texas after a period of severe depression, heavy drinking and increasingly erratic behavior. At a psychiatric clinic in Galveston, Townes was diagnosed under the terminology of the time and subjected to roughly three months of treatments that induced comas and seizures. His mother later said allowing it was the greatest regret of her life. The damage did not disappear when he left the hospital. Accounts from friends and biographers describe Townes returning home unable to recognize parts of his own childhood, while his mother used family photographs to help reconstruct memories that no longer felt familiar to him. He briefly tried to resume the future his family had imagined for him, including pre-law studies and an attempt to join the Air Force, but neither lasted. After his father died in 1966, Townes abandoned the path toward law and business and began moving through Texas clubs, absorbing Lightnin’ Hopkins, Hank Williams and Bob Dylan while learning to write songs of his own. Within a few years, he was writing “If I Needed You,” “Pancho and Lefty,” and “To Live Is to Fly,” songs that would eventually be recorded by Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris and generations of other artists. Townes Van Zandt spent the rest of his life writing with extraordinary precision about memory, loneliness and disappearance, even though part of his own past had been taken from him before his songwriting life had truly begun.

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Before Townes Van Zandt became one of the most revered songwriters in American music, doctors put him through months of insulin shock and electroshock treatment that reportedly erased large parts of his long-term memory. In 1964, his family brought the twenty-year-old college student back to Texas after a period of severe depression, heavy drinking and increasingly erratic behavior. At a psychiatric clinic in Galveston, Townes was diagnosed under the terminology of the time and subjected to roughly three months of treatments that induced comas and seizures. His mother later said allowing it was the greatest regret of her life. The damage did not disappear when he left the hospital. Accounts from friends and biographers describe Townes returning home unable to recognize parts of his own childhood, while his mother used family photographs to help reconstruct memories that no longer felt familiar to him. He briefly tried to resume the future his family had imagined for him, including pre-law studies and an attempt to join the Air Force, but neither lasted. After his father died in 1966, Townes abandoned the path toward law and business and began moving through Texas clubs, absorbing Lightnin’ Hopkins, Hank Williams and Bob Dylan while learning to write songs of his own. Within a few years, he was writing “If I Needed You,” “Pancho and Lefty,” and “To Live Is to Fly,” songs that would eventually be recorded by Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris and generations of other artists. Townes Van Zandt spent the rest of his life writing with extraordinary precision about memory, loneliness and disappearance, even though part of his own past had been taken from him before his songwriting life had truly begun.

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