Sometime in the last couple of months, country singer Alan Jackson moved out of the 25,000-square-foot Franklin home that he shared with his wife of 19 years, Denise. Ever since the news started trickling down through Music Row, people in the industry have been devastated. Granted, the breakup follows other recent high-profile divorces—among them Vince and Janice Gill, and Pam Tillis and Bob DiPiero—but the Jacksons’ marriage appeared ideal. It embodied the very themes of the singer’s own hits—a rags-to-riches story of high-school sweethearts who find superstardom without sacrificing true love.
Although no divorce papers have been filed, Denise Jackson has retained noted divorce attorney Rose Palermo as legal counsel. Thus Row watchers can’t help but think that the Jacksons’ separation might be final. For their part, Palermo and Jackson’s publicist, Nancy Russell, have asked that the couple’s privacy be respected during this time. But it’s inevitable that people in the industry will be paying close attention to this breakup. For years, Jackson’s own family life has been at the core of his music and his public image. Like Gill and like Kathie Lee Gifford, he frequently drew attention to his spouse and children in interviews and in song lyrics. Those sentiments went over well with the public—his marital assets are estimated to be about $50 million.
Consider, for instance, that Jackson’s first No. 1 record was ”I’d Love You All Over Again,“ which he wrote in honor of his 10th wedding anniversary: ”And if I had it to do all over/I’d do it all over again./If tomorrow I found one more chance to begin/I’d love you all over again.“ He also wrote the hit ”Livin’ on Love“ in honor of Denise: ”It sounds simple, that’s what you’re thinkin’/But love can walk through fire without blinkin’/It doesn’t take much when you get enough of/Livin’ on love.“
True to Jackson’s lyrics, the couple came from modest circumstances, and they really did put their love to the test. Both students at Newnan High School, located 40 miles from Atlanta, they started dating in 1976, when Alan was 17 and Denise was 16. They cruised around in Alan’s beloved ’55 Thunderbird, which he had spent a year restoring with his father. Three years later, they married.
Denise Jackson taught school for four years before temporarily relocating to Greensboro, N.C., to become a flight attendant. In 1985, she approached singer Glen Campbell in the Atlanta airport and asked him for advice that might help her singer-songwriter husband. That chance encounter led Jackson, who had been working in marinas, warehouses, and garages, to move to Nashville for a $100-a-week writing gig at Campbell’s publishing company. A record deal with Arista followed several years later.
”We were in it together,“ Denise said in a candid interview on The Nashville Network’s Soulmates program in 1996. ”We were depressed together, we were disappointed together; his disappointments were my disappointments. I never felt like it strained our marriage; it strained our existence, but not really our marriage.
”Once everything happened, we all of a sudden had all of these people around us.... I no longer had to cook his supper if I didn’t want to. He didn’t have to do things for me that he used to do. In a way, those [early years] were the most intimate years.“
Even so, their marriage seemed to hold up under the stresses of success. ”Life is pretty good,“ Denise Jackson said in an interview two years ago. Alan, meanwhile, seemed to be handling the attention well. He downplayed his appeal to women and stressed his desire to be treated like a regular guy, graciously rejecting Sharon Stone’s offer to shave off his mustache in a video.
”I guess, let’s just face it—I’m boring,“ he told Country Music magazine. ”For an interview, for a magazine, all they want to hear is divorce, alcoholism, all the bad things.... Some guys talked to me about books, but what am I going to say? [I’m] just a boring guy who worked hard, got lucky, and sings country music.“
In 1995, Jackson was named the CMA’s Entertainer of the Year. In his acceptance speech, he said, ”There is just one person I need to thank for this award. I married her when she was too young to know any better. I drug her away from her family and friends, miles away, and made her live in a basement for five-and-a-half years in Nashville, but she never complained about it.“
But that same year, it appeared the fairy tale was beginning to go awry. Rumors began to spread that Jackson had a fling with Faith Hill during the two singers’ 33-city American tour. The Jacksons’ marriage temporarily survived that rocky period, however; in a 1996 interview, Denise explained that attention from women was just a part of being in the music industry. ”People are going to want to be with my husband,“ she said. ”But you know, I can’t control anybody else. I can’t even control Alan. That’s something he has to work out himself. I just know that really he’s the same guy that I married [17] years ago, and I think he has the same priorities and he loves me as much as ever.“
As recently as this past August, everything looked rosy. The Jacksons had their third child, and they moved into their dream home, next door to Amy Grant. Music Row observers thought the crisis had passed. But then this year, word got around that Jackson had moved out and that the couple was going to marriage counseling.
As for why the couple is splitting, it’s anyone’s guess; it’s not really any of our business. But the breakup does reinforce two lessons that successful entertainers frequently have to learn the hard way: One, money doesn’t buy happiness, and, two, life on the road is tough for both spouses. Of course, we’ll never know if the two would have been blissfully happy had they remained in Newnan, Ga. Hundreds of divorces take place every day in this country, and Newnan surely has its fair share.
What we do know is that people on Music Row are truly mourning the split. ”I was probably as surprised as anyone,“ says Marty Gamblin, who signed Jackson to his first publishing deal. ”I would have bet the farm that would’ve never happened.
”It seemed to be the perfect situation. I think it’s one more example of just how tough this business is on people. We don’t realize how tough it is on us until it’s too late.“
Indeed, people in the industry saw Alan and Denise Jackson as a dream couple, a husband and wife who had made a perfect life for themselves. Now those same people are asking, ”If it happened to them, what chance is there for us?“ But few probably knew what life in the Jackson household was really like, what stresses, what joys the two experienced. So why should this one couple’s success or failure have any bearing on anyone else’s life? What matters most, perhaps, is that Jackson’s music still stands on its own.
You can bet, however, that music executives are assessing the potential damage to Jackson’s career. But that’s secondary now, for Jackson may be a hero, but he’s also human. Those who have lived well off of Jackson’s work now owe it to him—and to Denise—to be supportive of both, regardless of the outcome.
True love is still possible—in and out of the spotlight—but it’s never easy. Perhaps we should stop looking at celebrities as role models and respect them simply as performers, as entertainers. If we want to find inspiration for our own personal lives, perhaps we should focus on those closer to home. Many everyday folks, including my own mother, have shown that unconditional love and happy endings are still possible. They’re more common than you think.
