I really thought I might die—hurling thousands of feet in the air, bumping through the clouds in a tiny plane, feeling like a BB in a boxcar. The plane had six seats, and a man I’d never met was the only person aboard who wasn’t a pilot. It was 2019, and I was flying to Washington, D.C., to watch Chris Young headline an amphitheater at his manager’s invite. I’d known Chris since he performed in high school musicals. My first newspaper job was at the daily paper in his hometown, so I went from covering him at Oakland High School to every single Nashville Star telecast—which he won to earn his first record deal in 2006. We spent Tuesdays at Chili’s in Murfreesboro and had frequent sushi dinners and weekly Sunday chili nights—all with his parents.
Now that Chris has parted ways with Sony Music Nashville—his record label since 2006—and signed with Black River Entertainment, it’s prompted me to reflect this first week of January 2025. I’ve spent 20 years standing (or sitting) in his corner—and he’s been in mine. What I’ve learned: We don’t (often) pull punches, and we both show up.
I remember hearing “Voices” and “Gettin’ You Home (the Black Dress Song)” over those bowls of chili months before he released those songs. We were sitting on the floor because he had no furniture, and he was excited about “Voices.” I loved “Gettin’ You Home (the Black Dress Song),” which went on to be his first No. 1 hit. (“Voices” was eventually a No. 1, too.)
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Chris Young: “Don’t Embarrass Me”
By 2009, I had left Murfreesboro Daily News Journal and started covering country music at Nashville’s Tennessean. I took my toddler to Chris’ first No. 1 party. He took me to meet Alabama’s Randy Owen—who I have loved since I was a child. He told me not to embarrass him. I cried a lot and legitimately couldn’t talk. I never asked him if he was embarrassed—and he never said.
In 2011, Chris released “Tomorrow.” I was in the car and started sobbing when it came on the radio because I knew—the song was so undeniable that nothing would ever be the same again. I called his mom, blabbering incoherently, and she thought I’d wrecked my car. I was just really upset because I knew he was about to be too famous for Sunday chili nights.
And he soon was. But chili nights were replaced with private jets and CMA Awards. His plane—my trophy.
When “Famous Friends” Finally Show Up
Chris headlined Ryman Auditorium for the first time a few months later. I watched him on stage in high school so there was no way I was going to miss him at the Ryman. I was weeks from my due date. Chris’ publicist (and my dear friend) even hosted my baby shower. Chris looked at me and said, “Do NOT have the baby at my show.”
I unexpectedly had my son, Paxton, the next day. Chris’ mom was the second person to arrive at the hospital.
By 2015, Chris was playing small arenas. I spent the day on the road with him in Chattanooga for a story for the USA Today Network. Chris took the morning to visit a cancer patient at a local hospital, and he didn’t want me to go. He doesn’t like to publicize the charitable things he does because he does them to help – not for attention. That night, a local Chris Young fan who had gone viral for his country covers was supposed to come perform with Chris. He didn’t show up. His name? Kane Brown. Their eventual duet “Famous Friends” became one of the biggest hits of Chris’ career.
I wrote the story from the Chattanooga trip a few days later and really wanted to include the context of his hospital visit. We were arguing about it via text, so when he stalked over to me on the CMA Awards red carpet, I thought he was angry that I was pushing him. He wasn’t. He surprised me with the CMA Media Achievement Award. My Tennessean video crew got it all on camera—still unbelievable.
The Mountains Burned (and Flooded) – Chris Young Stepped Up
Me and Dolly Parton were born and raised in Sevierville, Tennessee, in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains. Chris grew up taking family vacations there. When the mountains uncontrollably burned in 2016, killing 13 people and destroying more than 700 structures, I was shattered. Dolly started her My People Fund and organized a fundraising telethon. When Chris presented Dolly with $250,000 from Kenny Chesney – also an East Tennessean – and the CMA and then kicked in $50,000 of his own money, I was weepy. But when we loaded one of his tour buses with donations for fire victims and drove the load to the rescue squad across the street from my alma mater, Sevier County High School, it felt surreal. Later that night from his headlining set at Thompson Boling Arena, he revealed he and CMA were organizing a Toys 4 Tots drive for local children.
(He recently made another significant donation to help victims of Hurricane Helene, which devastated portions of East Tennessee and Western North Carolina.)
The next year, I watched side-stage as Vince Gill invited Chris to join The Grand Ole Opry. Chris lifted Vince off the floor, and I laughed through tears. The selfie we took backstage afterward is still one of my favorites.
Later, he and Vince did my Country Mile podcast. It charted on iTunes and was the most consumed episode of the season. (He also thought I broke his Rolex during that episode. Our bickering is audible. For the record, I didn’t break his fancy pants watch.)
“I Trust You”
All that to say, by 2019, I trusted him—a lot. When his tiny plane felt like a highjacked carnival ride, I was reasonably sure he wouldn’t risk my life just for a USA Today concert review. I’d heard rumblings his then-management company wanted to add to their staff. I needed to make a career change, and I thought the trip might result in a job offer. So, I got on the plane.
I arrived safely, if a little (a lot) green around the gills, and walked into the backstage area. Chris looked at me and emphatically said, “You were not going to die.”
He played the show, and I marveled at the 12,000-ish people drinking and dancing and screaming his song lyrics—a much different experience than his high school production of Les Misérables.
I did get the job offer. On the flight back to Nashville, when someone I would eventually work with got drunk and started yelling obscenities at me (they were joking, I think), Chris intervened. He said, “Do you know how long I’ve known her? You can’t say that to her.”
He visited the management company office on my first day on the job, January 13, 2020. I flew with him and others on the team to Texas when he headlined the Houston Rodeo. It was near my birthday – March 9, 2020 – and that’s when we first understood the potential gravity of COVID-19. Within a week, everything was shutting down. We worked to find creative ways to keep Chris’ forward career momentum over the next year. “Famous Friends” was a multi-week No. 1 hit, and we helped MTSU open the Chris Young Café.
(Almost) Everything Changed
Fast forward five years, and everything has changed again. Chris has 14 No. 1 songs and more than 9 billion streams. We both left that management company. I’m writing again, this time for American Songwriter. He has different management and a new record label deal at Black River Entertainment.
What hasn’t changed in the last 20 years: I’m sitting around on an early January morning trying to figure out what to write. I text him, and he calls immediately. I explain the story concept and he says, “It’s OK, I trust you.”
Photo Credit: John Shearer
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