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Who is Linda Martell? The Story of the First Commercially Successful Black Woman in Country Music

This month is African American Music Appreciation Month, to celebrate, I want to shed some light on a particularly underappreciated artist. As time passes, some artists are forgotten for their achievements until someone rediscovers them. One of these artists is Linda Martell, the first commercially successful Black female artist. A self-titled website calls her the “unsung hero of the genre,” and a Rolling Stone article refers to her as “Country’s Lost Pioneer.” Recently, Martell has reentered the public radar after being mentioned in Beyonce’s album Cowboy Carter, specifically on two songs, “Spaghetti” and “The Linda Martell Show”. After the release of the album, magazines such as The Rolling Stone soon began publishing articles with titles of “Beyoncé’s ‘Cowboy Carter’ Includes a Shout-Out to Linda Martell — Who Is She?” Let’s find out! 

Up close image of Black woman singing into a mic.
Linda Martell in Ebony Magazine, March 1970.

Linda Martell was born Thelma Bynem on June 4, 1941, in Leesville, South Carolina. She was one of five children to parents Willie Mae and Clarence Bynem. Her mother worked in chicken slaughterhouses, while her father was a sharecropper and preacher in a Baptist Church. Her church life influenced her love of music, and her gospel roots can be heard on later recordings. She recalled that growing up, her family would listen to the radio station WLAC which was based in Nashville and played country music. Her father’s favorite song was “Your Cheatin’ Heart” by Hank Williams, and he would sing it around the house often.  

In her teenage years, she formed an R&B trio with her sister and their cousin, creating “Linda Martell and the Anglos” (later spelled “Angelos”). By the early 1960s, she was touring with the group and performing at clubs. They caught the attention of a local DJ named Charles “Big Saul” Greene, who suggested Bynem use the name Linda Martell. He wrote her a note stating, “Your name is Linda Martell. You look like Linda. That fits you.” The group soon disbanded, but only after recording a few singles with reputable labels.  

Bynem, now going by Linda Martell, continued as a solo act performing in nightclubs. While singing on a Charleston Air Force base in 1969, the crowd begged her to perform a few country songs and heard by William “Duke” Rayner. He offered to buy a tape of her performing. Originally, Martell thought Rayner was a “kook” and ignored him, but eventually decided to hear him out. He then introduced her to Shelby Singleton Jr., who was involved in the Nashville music industry. 

During her first meeting with Singleton, he shocked her by asking her to sing country. She recounted later that she had performed mostly pop up to that point. At this point, Black country musicians, especially female ones, still had a lot of trouble getting signed onto labels and performing. Singleton signed on both black and white performers but considered Martell a risky move because she was a woman. All Black country artists who were successful up to this point were men. Nevertheless, Martell signed a management deal on May 15, 1969, and a record deal.  

The next day she recorded a cover of “Color Him Father” by the Winstons. It was originally in the funk and soul style, but Martell transformed it into a mix of country and R&B. But more importantly, she focused on the storytelling aspect of the song. At the height of the Vietnam War, this song resonated with people. It is a story from a boy’s perspective after his father died during the war. His widowed mother remarried, and the song tells the boy’s view of this new father figure in his life – a very harsh reality for many in the years surrounding the song’s release.  

Album cover. The words "Color Me Country" sit atop "Linda Martell" in large white font on a black background. The title is above a large box that takes up most of the image with four different shades of orange boxes getting progressively smaller inside it until the middle box, which is filled with an image of a black woman singing.

They finished the album in a single 12-hour recording session. The album, called Color Me Country, included eleven songs, but “Color Him Father” was released on the record and as a single. It reached #22 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart, the highest a Black female country artist had reached until the release of Cowboy Carter by Beyonce earlier this year. Martell soon appeared on TV, in live shows, and even at the Grand Ole Opry. She was the first solo Black female country singer to appear on the Opry stage and received two standing ovations.  

She was also invited to perform on Hee Haw, a comedy and country music show. Despite her success, racism plagued her career. After hearing her during rehearsals, a show executive approached her and attempted to correct her pronunciation of her own lyrics. She did not listen and sang the words the way she always did. She later stated, “He wasn’t too happy about it. But I did anyway.”  Charley Pride, a well-known Black country artist who had been performing for almost two decades at that point, gave Martell advice during a party: “Develop a thick skin and get used to the name-calling.” She tried to ignore it but never truly got used to it and refused to learn to tolerate how she was being treated. 

In the South, she was advertised as the “First Female Negro Country Artist.” Her first gig after signing with Singleton was in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. She later recounted that night, “You’d be singing, and they’d shout out names, and you know the names they would call you.” There was another instance when a promoter in Beaumont, Texas, canceled her show after discovering that she was black. He claimed that her “Fans would tell her she didn’t sound black.”  

Singleton recorded her record with a separate label from his regular SSI International label. This sister label was called “Plantation Records”. When she confronted Singleton about the racism behind that name, he denied it and said he chose it with no particular meaning. She stated in later interviews that she told him, “What you are telling me is that black people belonged on the plantation!” She recorded only one album with Singleton and Plantation Records.  

A black woman in a rhinestone studded outfit sits on a fence playing a guitar and smiling.
Linda Martell in Ebony Magazine, March 1970.

In May 1970, Rayner sued Martell because he believed that he deserved a higher commission from her. Singleton managed to make the issue go away, but Martell had other concerns. Singleton was focusing his attention more on another artist named Jeannie C. Riley. This was not simply a suspicion but something Singleton himself told Martell he was doing intentionally. After her year-long contract expired, Martell left Plantation Records. However, when she attempted to record with a new label, Singleton threatened to sue them, causing her deal with them to collapse. This trend continued and she was effectively blackballed, her reputation ruined, and she was forced into an early retirement in 1970. 

Despite her incredible achievements, her short career caused her to be largely forgotten in country music history. After her country music career ended, Martell spent the next two decades living a nomadic lifestyle, singing in bars and clubs, and on a cruise in California. At one point, she ran a record store in Bronx, New York, and at another, she was in Florida, where she joined an R&B cover band with her brother. Eventually, she returned to South Carolina to be with her family.  

After her father’s death in 1991, she became a school bus driver and later worked in a classroom helping children with learning disabilities. She became a local hero to some, but others still had no idea who she was. When magazines reached out for interviews, many remembered her as a “kindly older lady who worked for the school system.” After being diagnosed with cancer in 2004, she retired from her job. Up until 2011, she performed with a band called Eazzy, which covered R&B songs. For years, she lived alone in a mobile home until her health decreased. After that, she moved in with her daughter Tikethia Thompson.  

Collage of images with bright colors and varying textures surrounding a black woman in an orange shirt with teh words "Color Me Country Radio with Reece Palmer"

From time to time, she has come up in the media. She was mentioned in the 2013 film A Country Christmas Story starring Dolly Parton. It follows the story of a biracial girl who aspires to be a country singer. Parton tells her the story of black musicians in the genre, including Martell, showing her the LP cover of her only record, Color Me Country. A more recently successful black country artist, Rissi Palmer, named her podcast started in 2020 after Martell’s album and plays her music on the show. In 2021, Martell was nominated for and won the CMT Music Awards Equal Play Award. That same year, her filmmaker granddaughter Marquia Thompson started a GoFundMe in honor of creating a documentary about her grandmother’s story titled “Bad Case of the Country Blues.” And, of course, most recently, she was mentioned in two tracks off of Beyonce’s album Cowboy Carter

 

Guest Blogger Donna Walker is a student at King University and a Birthplace of Country Music Museum Intern. 

The Transformative Power of Traditional Music: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Dulcimer. Part II

My time at ETSU taught me a lot of things. I think the most important lesson it taught me was that I didn’t know as much as I thought I did. It started changing my worldview as well. I learned a lot about what it means to be Appalachian and the cultural inheritances that come with it. I grew as a musician, but I also began to think differently about my identity and the kind of person I wanted to be.

My work study was as a literacy tutor at a local elementary school, where I was assigned to a first-grade class led by a teacher named Claudette Decker. She became a friend and advisor to me. It was at her insistence that I began incorporating instruments in my work. Initially, I played a tune or two at the end of class before I left, but it became a way to connect with some of the more withdrawn children. It made learning more fun and helped some of them feel more comfortable opening up. It made me remember how powerful music was for me as a child.

I was becoming more serious as a dulcimer player now and had a better instrument. I met my first dulcimer teacher that spring: Jim Miller. He noticed my case one day and asked about it. We had a conversation and soon I was taking lessons with him. He took my understanding of the dulcimer to a new level. Our sessions felt like a break from the daily grind. Dulcimer became my joy.

Three people play instruments together in chairs in front of mics. The woman on the left is playing a guitar. The man in the middle is playing a mandolin. The woman on the right is playing a dulcimer.
Roxanne playing dulcimer with Jim and Cheri Miller.

After graduation, I worked as a preschool teacher. I continued using music in my work as much as I could, and the dulcimer was especially well-liked. I can’t even tell you the number of times I’ve had to play a rendition of “Baby Shark” on it. I worked in childcare right up until the start of the pandemic.

The pandemic was a watershed moment for me. I was out of work and gigs had dried up, but it was during this time that I met my second dulcimer mentor: a man named Don Burger. Don and his wife Deborah became sort of like surrogate grandparents to me during the pandemic. He led a dulcimer group in Jonesborough, but I only got to have a couple of in-person meetings with the group before everything shut down, and the group moved to meeting online using video call software like Zoom. It was something to look forward to each week; there weren’t many things going on, and this provided us with the opportunity to come together safely.

Two people in chairs playing dulcimer together outside.
Roxanne and Don Burger

Don taught me taught me a lot about dealing with life and other people. He was more like a guru who happened to play dulcimer. He operated a small, now-defunct festival called Jonesborough Dulcimer Days and recruited me to help him keep it going during the pandemic. We would bring musicians into town and host them where we’d had our dulcimer meetings. Artists would perform for the small number of people in attendance, as well as viewers at home, via social media streams. He and I also set up around Jonesborough on different days and played our dulcimers publicly, often recording videos to share on social media. This gave me an opportunity to meet a number of dulcimer players, reunite with my old teacher Jim, and also play semi-regular gigs. In many ways, the pandemic was like a reset button for my life. It was a scary time, but on the other hand, I got to work on my craft and spend time doing things I enjoyed with people I cared about.

Don and Deborah moved back to New York towards the end of the pandemic, and I was deeply saddened to see them leave. However, Don left me with a couple of things. He recommended me as his replacement for teaching ukulele at the Memorial Park Community Center. I would also inherit a dulcimer class there from a man named Willis Jones after he became too ill to continue teaching. Being able to work with older adult students was a good experience because I could teach them about music, and they would often share stories or give me advice based on their life experiences. There’s a lot of valuable learning to be done in an environment like that.

Don also made an important connection for me. He introduced me to a man named Brian Mills, who runs a nonprofit called Art Transforms. It’s an organization that provides supplemental music and art education for students in the Johnson City School System. Don wanted to offer a two-week summer school class where students could learn about the dulcimer and build their own from cardboard using a kit. Since he was leaving, I was brought in to conduct the class. It ended up being very well-received, and we have continued it every year since.

When I heard about the Tradition Bearer’s fellowship, I didn’t initially think much about it, but some friends encouraged me to apply. I reluctantly did so, but didn’t want to get my hopes up. When I received word that I had been approved, I was overjoyed. It was a chance to expand on the work I was already doing with the dulcimer. It was also an opportunity to get more people involved with making music and keeping an Appalachian tradition alive. I used the funds to purchase as many cardboard dulcimer kits as I could and partnered with local schools, nonprofits, and the Birthplace of Country Music Museum to provide dulcimer-building workshops for as many people as possible, many of them children from lower-income backgrounds.

three images of a woman teaching. One with children sitting in a circle playing dulcimer. One with children learning to build cardboard dulcimers. One with a woman teaching adults to build cardboard dulcimers.
Roxanne in various dulcimer teaching roles.

The last few years of my life have been especially healing. I’ve been able to let go of a lot of the pain and bitterness of the past. I’ve also come to have a new level of appreciation for not only the dulcimer, but for teaching and community building. I’ve been able to connect with more people and introduce the dulcimer to a wider demographic. It feels like I am finding my place, and I’m very grateful for what feels like a second chance at life.

When I think about how music has changed things for me, it makes me want to share that possibility with others. Music makes the good days better and the bad days bearable. Music has helped me embrace my Appalachian roots and gain a greater appreciation for them. It’s also given me strength in the face of persecution. Our identities, our communities, our traditions, and our stories matter. Music can not only keep all of these alive but strengthen them. It is my hope that music can be a source of strength and refuge for all who need it.

The Transformative Power of Traditional Music: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Dulcimer. Part I

Trigger Warning: This post contains content about suicide. If you or a loved one is struggling with suicidal thoughts, please contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Hotline.

I didn’t come from a particularly musical family. My father sang in the church choir and I had a half-sister who played piano. Other than that, there weren’t any musicians in my family. In fact, there wasn’t a great deal of music in my community in general. My only real exposure to live music was the choir at our church. Attending church wasn’t something I enjoyed as a child, but those hymns were always a highlight of my Sunday mornings. It was simple accompaniment: usually just a piano and one or two acoustic guitars. The guitar fascinated me. I asked my parents for one many times, but we couldn’t afford one. I was also very young and my parents were concerned that I might not stick with it.

Woman with short brown hair and glasses wearing a pink cardigan and jean skirt sits in a floral chair with crossed legs and holding a dulcimer upright in her lap.
Image provided by Roxanne McDaniel

I was a quiet child and a bit of a loner. It was difficult to make friends, but music was the thing I always found refuge in. My mother was a big classic rock fan, and she probably influenced my musical tastes more than anyone. I began listening to music obsessively at an early age, but the music that I listened to put me a little out of step with the other kids at school. They all had CD players and were listening to what was current. I was carrying around a walkman, listening to my mom’s old Aerosmith cassettes.

My mom also bought me my first instrument when I was about four years old. It was a Hohner harmonica in the key of C. I never learned to play it well, but I carried it with me almost everywhere I went all the way through middle school. When I was 11, after years of asking, my parents bought me an acoustic guitar. There wasn’t anyone to teach me, so I had to learn a lot from books, as well as lots of trial and error. Once I started getting comfortable with the guitar, I began trying to write songs of my own. It was very therapeutic for a young person as lonely and unhappy as I was.

In my late teens and early adult years, I became increasingly withdrawn. I’d always felt different but was afraid to say why. It made me the subject of a lot of rumors and bullying. It reached a point where I had to make a decision. I could continue keeping my secret and being miserable or try to be happy. I took my chance and revealed to everyone that I was transgender. The reaction I received was hostile. People were threatening to hurt me, I had my tires flattened at work, and I was removed from the church I had belonged to since birth. Things reached such a low point that I even tried to take my own life by crashing my car. Thankfully, I failed, but I will never forget the ambulance ride. A paramedic asked me, “Can I give you some advice? You need to get out of this town”. I knew he was right.

I don’t tell this part of the story to be sensational or to make a political statement. I just feel that it’s necessary to provide this information for context and to give a framework for what follows.

Roxanne McDaniel photographed in Bristol on 8/2/23. Pat Jarrett/Virginia Humanities

Life became dangerous for me; I had to keep my head down and be careful for a while. I needed to leave, but I needed a place to run to. Music was the only thing I was passionate about, and I wanted to go back to school. A friend told me about the bluegrass program at ETSU, and I applied. I wasn’t particularly interested in bluegrass or old-time music, but I figured I would be fine with it if it meant I had somewhere to go. It was ironic: the treatment I had been receiving back home, combined with the negative stereotypes of the region I’d begun believing, had made me want to distance myself from all things Appalachian. Yet, here I was running towards one of the most stereotypically Appalachian things I knew of. When my acceptance letter arrived, I was overjoyed. I didn’t know what to expect, but at least life was going to be different.

During this time, I had become interested in dulcimers by happening across a video online. It was of a dulcimer player named Wendy Songe playing a tune called “King of the Faeries.” The instrument had an almost ethereal sound I found captivating. I bought a cheap dulcimer and practiced for hours on end. I began listening to artists who played the dulcimer, such as Jean Ritchie, Joni Mitchell, David Schnaufer, Stephen Seifert, and Sam Edelston. Edelston was particularly interesting to me because his playing of classic rock songs on dulcimer brought together the two musical worlds I found myself in.

A Conversation with CALT Fellow Pierceton Hobbs

Pierceton Hobbs is a SWVA musician and recipient of the Greater Bristol Folk Arts & Culture Team’s Central Appalachia Living Traditions (CALT) Tradition Bearer Fellowship in 2022-23. This fellowship provides financial support, professional development, and public presentation opportunities for people working in traditional or folk arts and culture.


Tell us all about your CALT Tradition Bearer project

I was very honored to be rewarded the CALT Tradition Bearer Fellowship Grant to support my work as a teaching and recording artist.  I used my funds to acquire necessary equipment to practice my art as well as finish a recording project of original music.  

How has the grant impacted your craft and your ability to do this work?

Without this grant, I wouldn’t have been able to complete my album.  It has been a work in progress since 2022 because of funding issues. I started with an expansive vision and beautiful friends who own a basement studio. They graciously lent their knowledge and expertise in laying down the bones with me.  With help from the CALT Tradition Bearer Fellowship Grant, I have finally completed all production and the project is in post-production with a release date set for August 31! 

White man with backwards ballcap, glasses, and overalls sitting in front of a mic stand. A guitar sits on his lap and he is smiling and resting his head on one arm propped on the guitar.
Image courtesy of Pierceton Hobbs.

Who are your biggest inspirations for your artistic and creative work and music making? 

This is a loaded question, aha! There are so many beautiful people who have either mentored me in some way or helped me come into my own. Apologies in advance if I miss anybody:  

Folks: 

Tyler Hughes, Sam Gleaves, Thomas Cassell, Will Cassell, Kenny Miles, Hayden Miles, Linda Jean Stokely, Montana Hobbs, Larah Helayne, Don Rogers, Jesse Wells, Matthew Carter, Don Rogers, Mitchella Phipps, John Haywood, Rich Kirby, Senora May, Corbin Hayslett, Chris Rose, Anna Mullins, Ron Short, W.V. Hill, A.K. Mullins, Jimmy Mullins, Ron Kennedy…

Performers: 

Circus No. 9, Wayne Graham, The Local Honeys, Foddershock, Sparklehorse, 49 Winchester, Geonovah, The Empty Bottle String Band, The Foodstamps, Kaleb N.F.I., Amythyst Kiah, The Stanley Brothers, Jim & Jesse, The Carter Family… 

 

Why do you think your work is important to preserving and sharing Appalachian Folkways?

I consider myself a community-based artist.  Every faucet of the work I partake in contributes to capacity building in a resource-deprived area. We have to build the supportive artist community we want to see together! 

As a tradition-bearer, I also pass along tunes I have learned (and continue to learn) to students in the local Junior Appalachian Musicians program.  

A white man sits playing a guitar in front of a mic on a stage with a quilted backdrop.
Image courtesy of Pierceton Hobbs.

You are an Appalachian artist, a musician, songwriter and storyteller. Tell us what these roles mean to you.

The most astounding thing for me is the tendency of Appalachian artists to stick together like burrs in the wilderness fighting to land somewhere fertile to grow…no matter the genre or level of experience there is support to be had out there. 

Songwriting has always proved important in highlighting disparities everywhere, especially here. For me, it’s about comfort. I spill words to get things off my chest, hairy or otherwise. I write and arrange in the context as if I were a spectator or fan looking for something comforting to listen to whether that be happy, mad, melancholy, sad, or silly – it’s all related to human emotion. I try to make music that I want to listen to.  

Stories from Appalachia are fluid and ever-changing.  I love folktales and carry a few with me but emerging stories are my favorite. I think we’re putting away trauma and collectively lifting each other up…not “by the bootstraps” but with open arms.   

Your music tells the honest and true stories of life in Appalachia, be it an original composition or your rendition of a traditional song. What do you want people to take away from hearing these stories and experiences?

I tend to hope listeners have an open mind.  

Interpretations of meanings are just as diverse as the experiences we have in life.  

A white man in a baseball cap and overalls playing a guitar while singing.
Image courtesy of Pierceton Hobbs.

You also teach students music, tell us about the rewards of this experience

My students are a blessing! I feel as though they teach me more about the world around me than all of the world’s wisdom combined.  

It feels especially rewarding when I show them the basics on any number of instruments and they take flight on their own! When I see that creative spark flare, I think I’ve done what I’m supposed to do. 

What is the most difficult thing about being a musician in the Appalachian region? What is the easiest? What do you like most about it?

It’s hard for me to share anything easy about being an artist here. As we talked about earlier, Appalachian artists are very supportive of each other and it’s a beautiful thing. With that being said, there are still so many limiting factors for artists in the region including but not limited to a lack of creative spaces, funding, healthcare, resources, services, transportation, and venues. This subdues our ability to thrive!  

A white man with glasses and a jean jacket is singing into a mic and holding a guitar.
Image courtesy of Pierceton Hobbs.

Pierceton, is a hotdog a sandwich?

NO! A HOTDOG IS A STAPLE MEAL STEAMING WITH SUSTENANCE AND COMFORTING WARMTH! ESPECIALLY WITH CHILLI! 

What projects are you currently working on/ and or what’s next for Pierceton Hobbs You could mention any upcoming craft shows this summer, workshops etc.

2024 is a busy and exciting year for me! This summer, I’ll be assisting teachers instructing traditional music at Cowan Creek Mountain Music School the last week in June.  This summer, I’ll be performing and releasing singles in anticipation for an album release on August 31! My first show after the release will be at Bristol Rhythm and Roots Reunion on September 15th!  

Folks can keep up with my artistic endeavors by visiting piercetonhobbs.com or on social media (links are accessible on my website).