THEY HELD HIS FUNERAL AT WOODLAWN FUNERAL HOME IN NASHVILLE. THE 1,500 WHO CAME OVERFLOWED THE MAIN CHAPEL, FILLED THREE SMALLER ONES, AND STOOD IN THE HALLWAY. Eighteen No. 1 hits. Forty-three Top 10 records. Over 500 songs written across a 29-year career. Two months before the funeral, Nashville had inducted him into the Country Music Hall of Fame. The service lasted thirty minutes. Johnny and June Carter Cash were there. Eddy Arnold. Roy Acuff. Charley Pride. Porter Wagoner. Ricky Skaggs. Little Jimmy Dickens, who had discovered him nearly thirty years earlier, sat among them. Reverend W.C. Lankford gave the only eulogy. He said the doctors had done an awfully good job of mending Marty’s heart — then turned it around: “Marty himself mended thousands of broken hearts each year as his songs touched the very soul of America.” Brenda Lee sang One Day at a Time. A young woman from his church sang a medley of hymns. That was all. Afterward, they buried him privately in the hills of middle Tennessee. No crowds. No cameras. The man who sang about a cowboy dying alone in the West Texas desert was laid down quietly, out of sight. He had eight weeks to enjoy the Hall of Fame. He spent them working.
The Quiet Goodbye of Marty Robbins in Nashville When Marty Robbins died on December 8, 1982, Nashville did what Nashville…