There we were — just the two of us, chillin’ in the dressing room following a sold-out enormo-dome show somewhere in the Midwest. I’d just served him his after-show dinner when the pontificating, iconic rock star for whom I worked paused from his eggplant entrée to offer me a random slice of personal philosophy. “All we have in life is our reputation,” he said. What elevated so many traditional country artists of the ’60s and ’70s to enduring legendary status was their reputations as real working-class people. In those days, Nashville’s leading men were often flawed fellas, sharing unfabricated personal stories of loose livin’, fast drinkin’ and doin’ time. Unlike today, female country chart-busters of that era weren’t twiggy spray tan floozies with T-backs and tramp stamps. They were hard...