Post by the Scribe on Oct 5, 2023 19:40:07 GMT
Linda Ronstadt Recalls Her Mom’s Pain and Her Dad’s Evening Song
archive.ph/QIBIH#selection-4151.0-5549.30
The Grammy winner looks back at her childhood on the family’s cattle ranch in Tucson, Ariz., where nights were spent singing and harmonizing together
By Marc Myers
July 16, 2019 10:00 am ET
Linda Ronstadt at a MusiCares event in Los Angeles in February. PHOTO: MICHAEL KOVAC/GETTY IMAGES
Linda Ronstadt, 73, is a retired singer who has released more than 30 studio albums and 40 hit singles, and has received 10 Grammy awards. She is the author of “Simple Dreams: A Musical Memoir” (Simon & Schuster). She spoke with Marc Myers.
Rain was terrifying when I was little growing up outside of Tucson, Ariz. The ground in the desert was baked hard and didn’t absorb water quickly.
Summer cloudbursts turned dry gullies into raging rivers. I was warned early and sternly to avoid playing in them and to head to higher ground if the sky looked threatening.
My family home was an adobe house that my parents built on the last 10 acres of my grandfather’s cattle ranch. He had sold off plots during the Depression and worked at his business in town—F. Ronstadt Hardware & Machinery Co.
My great-grandfather on my father’s side had come from Germany and settled in an area of the Southwest that was still part of Mexico. He married my great-grandmother, who was Mexican. He was an engineer who built mines before moving to Tucson.
Linda Ronstadt on the family ranch in Tucson, Ariz., in 1950. PHOTO: RONSTADT FAMILY
Growing up, my father, Gilbert, worked on his father’s ranches and at his business. The store was beautiful and huge. It took up an entire block and sold everything from tools to tractors.
My mother, Ruthmary, was from Flint, Mich. Her father, Lloyd Copeman, invented an electric toaster that turned toast around, the electric stove and the rubber ice-cube tray. He held more than 700 patents.
She met my father at the University of Arizona in Tucson, and they married in 1937. My sister, Suzy, and brother Peter were born before my father joined the Army during World War II.
Different Drum
While he was away, my mother worked in the control tower of the local Army base. She gave up the job after my father returned and I was born. She had wanted to be a scientist. When she couldn’t sleep, she’d work on calculus problems and often discuss them with her former college professor.
When I was little, I wanted a horse. My father eventually gave in and asked a neighboring farmer to let Murphy, one of his Shetland ponies, stay with us. Murphy bucked me a few times, but I learned about responsibility and overcoming fear.
My mother had a springer spaniel and drove a 1951 Chevy sedan. One day, we were driving with the spaniel and me in the back seat. Suddenly, the dog jumped into her lap. It caused my mother to drive off the road and into a ditch.
The next morning, while brushing her teeth, she collapsed. She wasn’t aware she had broken her back. She went into the hospital, and I didn’t see her for about six months. I missed her so much.
When she came home, she had to wear a body cast and use a walker. As she recuperated, she used a Singer Featherweight sewing machine to make dresses that fit over her cast.
Linda Ronstadt in Santa Monica, Calif., in 1968. PHOTO: HENRY DILTZ/CORBIS
She was in bed for a year. It was another year before she was back on her feet. I liked that she was always there. I also liked playing by myself. I was introverted, probably because our house was isolated. As I played in her room, we listened to singers like Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney on the radio.
Music was a big deal. My father had a baritone singing voice and performed at local venues. My brother Peter practiced singing for performances with the Tucson Boys Chorus. My sister sang Hank Williams songs, and my little brother, Mike, practiced his upright bass.
It was fun. Everyone in the family could sing in tune and sing harmony with each other. Each night, my father sang “Lulo,” a traditional Mexican song his mother taught him.
Eventually, I began singing folk locally on my own, sometimes backed by my cousin on guitar. A big break came in 1964, when childhood friend Bobby Kimmel asked me to join him in Los Angeles. Then Kenny Edwards joined and we became the Stone Poneys.
But my own personal turning point was in 1980, when I learned how to sing. I know that sounds strange, but that’s when I began singing different styles of music. It forced me to develop other parts of my voice. I wound up with a bigger vocal tool kit.
Today, I live in a cottage in Northwest San Francisco. I moved in about 15 years ago when Tucson summers became too hot for me.
I love sitting near the fireplace in the living room. I don’t mind being home as long as I have a good book to read.
Recently, my doctors determined that I don’t have Parkinson’s but something called progressive supranuclear palsy. It can’t be treated with medication.
I still have my mother’s Singer Featherweight. It’s in my bedroom closet. I can’t sew now because of my illness, but I love hearing it operate. It reminds me of her.
Ronstadt’s Raves
Sia at the 2016 Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival Weekend in Indio, Calif. PHOTO: KEVIN WINTER/GETTY IMAGES
Favorite pop artists: Sia, an Australian singer, and First Aid Kit, a Swedish duo
Favorite opera: “La Traviata”
Favorite ranchera singers: Lola Beltrán and Chavela Vargas
Reading now: Jared Diamond’s “Upheaval: Turning Points for Nations in Crisis”
What you don’t like to hear: My records. Ugh. It’s like looking at myself in a mirror. I catch too many things that I wished I’d done differently.
A lifetime do-over: I’d live with more grace.
If you could do anything now: I’d like to sing, but better.
archive.ph/QIBIH#selection-4151.0-5549.30
The Grammy winner looks back at her childhood on the family’s cattle ranch in Tucson, Ariz., where nights were spent singing and harmonizing together
By Marc Myers
July 16, 2019 10:00 am ET
Linda Ronstadt at a MusiCares event in Los Angeles in February. PHOTO: MICHAEL KOVAC/GETTY IMAGES
Linda Ronstadt, 73, is a retired singer who has released more than 30 studio albums and 40 hit singles, and has received 10 Grammy awards. She is the author of “Simple Dreams: A Musical Memoir” (Simon & Schuster). She spoke with Marc Myers.
Rain was terrifying when I was little growing up outside of Tucson, Ariz. The ground in the desert was baked hard and didn’t absorb water quickly.
Summer cloudbursts turned dry gullies into raging rivers. I was warned early and sternly to avoid playing in them and to head to higher ground if the sky looked threatening.
My family home was an adobe house that my parents built on the last 10 acres of my grandfather’s cattle ranch. He had sold off plots during the Depression and worked at his business in town—F. Ronstadt Hardware & Machinery Co.
My great-grandfather on my father’s side had come from Germany and settled in an area of the Southwest that was still part of Mexico. He married my great-grandmother, who was Mexican. He was an engineer who built mines before moving to Tucson.
Linda Ronstadt on the family ranch in Tucson, Ariz., in 1950. PHOTO: RONSTADT FAMILY
Growing up, my father, Gilbert, worked on his father’s ranches and at his business. The store was beautiful and huge. It took up an entire block and sold everything from tools to tractors.
My mother, Ruthmary, was from Flint, Mich. Her father, Lloyd Copeman, invented an electric toaster that turned toast around, the electric stove and the rubber ice-cube tray. He held more than 700 patents.
She met my father at the University of Arizona in Tucson, and they married in 1937. My sister, Suzy, and brother Peter were born before my father joined the Army during World War II.
Different Drum
While he was away, my mother worked in the control tower of the local Army base. She gave up the job after my father returned and I was born. She had wanted to be a scientist. When she couldn’t sleep, she’d work on calculus problems and often discuss them with her former college professor.
When I was little, I wanted a horse. My father eventually gave in and asked a neighboring farmer to let Murphy, one of his Shetland ponies, stay with us. Murphy bucked me a few times, but I learned about responsibility and overcoming fear.
My mother had a springer spaniel and drove a 1951 Chevy sedan. One day, we were driving with the spaniel and me in the back seat. Suddenly, the dog jumped into her lap. It caused my mother to drive off the road and into a ditch.
The next morning, while brushing her teeth, she collapsed. She wasn’t aware she had broken her back. She went into the hospital, and I didn’t see her for about six months. I missed her so much.
When she came home, she had to wear a body cast and use a walker. As she recuperated, she used a Singer Featherweight sewing machine to make dresses that fit over her cast.
Linda Ronstadt in Santa Monica, Calif., in 1968. PHOTO: HENRY DILTZ/CORBIS
She was in bed for a year. It was another year before she was back on her feet. I liked that she was always there. I also liked playing by myself. I was introverted, probably because our house was isolated. As I played in her room, we listened to singers like Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney on the radio.
Music was a big deal. My father had a baritone singing voice and performed at local venues. My brother Peter practiced singing for performances with the Tucson Boys Chorus. My sister sang Hank Williams songs, and my little brother, Mike, practiced his upright bass.
It was fun. Everyone in the family could sing in tune and sing harmony with each other. Each night, my father sang “Lulo,” a traditional Mexican song his mother taught him.
Eventually, I began singing folk locally on my own, sometimes backed by my cousin on guitar. A big break came in 1964, when childhood friend Bobby Kimmel asked me to join him in Los Angeles. Then Kenny Edwards joined and we became the Stone Poneys.
But my own personal turning point was in 1980, when I learned how to sing. I know that sounds strange, but that’s when I began singing different styles of music. It forced me to develop other parts of my voice. I wound up with a bigger vocal tool kit.
Today, I live in a cottage in Northwest San Francisco. I moved in about 15 years ago when Tucson summers became too hot for me.
I love sitting near the fireplace in the living room. I don’t mind being home as long as I have a good book to read.
Recently, my doctors determined that I don’t have Parkinson’s but something called progressive supranuclear palsy. It can’t be treated with medication.
I still have my mother’s Singer Featherweight. It’s in my bedroom closet. I can’t sew now because of my illness, but I love hearing it operate. It reminds me of her.
Ronstadt’s Raves
Sia at the 2016 Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival Weekend in Indio, Calif. PHOTO: KEVIN WINTER/GETTY IMAGES
Favorite pop artists: Sia, an Australian singer, and First Aid Kit, a Swedish duo
Favorite opera: “La Traviata”
Favorite ranchera singers: Lola Beltrán and Chavela Vargas
Reading now: Jared Diamond’s “Upheaval: Turning Points for Nations in Crisis”
What you don’t like to hear: My records. Ugh. It’s like looking at myself in a mirror. I catch too many things that I wished I’d done differently.
A lifetime do-over: I’d live with more grace.
If you could do anything now: I’d like to sing, but better.