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The Brothers of Friday the 13th: A Country Music Legacy

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By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

2–4 minutes

The Brothers of Friday the 13th

They say Friday the 13th brings bad luck. But, for Jack Anglin and Johnnie Wright, it brought something entirely different. It brought love, brotherhood, and the country music that carves its way into the soul.

Jack and Johnnie were destined to sing. Their childhoods were steeped in gospel, church choirs, and the rhythm of the land. They met as they met most things in life—through music. And they married as they did everything else—on a Friday the 13th. Jack wed Louise, and Johnnie took her sister, Muriel, as his bride. This made them brothers-in-law, but their voices had already made them brothers in spirit, their bond unbreakable.

They began touring as Johnnie & Jack, their harmonies tight as barbed wire and twice as sharp. They sang of sorrow and salvation, of trains leaving and lovers staying. And behind them, always, stood the sisters.

Johnnie’s wife, Muriel, had a soft voice. It could’ve gone unnoticed if not for a quiet evening at home. She hummed along to a song Johnnie was working on. He stopped strumming, looked at her, and knew.

“You need a stage name,” 

He said. 

“Something people will remember.”

He thought a moment, then grinned. 

“Kitty Wells.”

She laughed at the name, but it stuck. Kitty Wells soon became the Queen of Country Music. Her voice turned the tide with It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels. The song gave women in the country their place in the spotlight.

In a later interview, Johnny recalled that the name “Kitty Wells” came from an old spiritual recording. He used to play it during his early days working at a radio station. The name stuck with him. When it came time to give Muriel a stage name, it felt like the perfect fit. It was familiar, timeless, and filled with meaning.

Life moved fast. Fame came. Tours blurred together. But Jack and Johnnie were always together—on stage, on the road, in life.

Then came March 1963.

Patsy Cline, Cowboy Copas, and Hawkshaw Hawkins—all killed in a plane crash returning after a charity concert. The country music world was shattered. A memorial service was planned, and Jack insisted on going.

“Gotta pay respects,” 

He said. 

“We’ve all come up together.”

But he never made it.

On the fateful morning of March 8, 1963, Jack Anglin was en route to the service. Tragically, he lost control of his car and crashed. His life was taken in an instant. The news reached the church before Johnnie’s arrival. They say the moment he heard, Johnnie was overcome with grief, falling to his knees. The man who had been his constant companion on every stage, in every storm, was no more.

It was a heartbreak no harmony can fix.

Johnnie went on as best he could. Kitty sang. The spotlight stayed, but something had shifted. There was a silence beside him now where Jack’s voice used to be.

Still, the music lived on.

Two men, two sisters, two voices joined by fate, and a wedding date no one forgets. Friday the 13th had given them everything—and, somehow, had taken it all back.

Yet, their songs endure, a testament to their enduring legacy. In every old record and radio play, their voices still resonate. Jack and Johnnie were brothers in music and marriage. Their harmonies echo through the years. It is a timeless tribute to their bond and art.

Remembering Kris Kristofferson: A Personal Tribute

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A Tribute to Kris Kristofferson by Marion Toehay Jr., Friend and Former Chief of Police

Marion Toehay JR. (Left)
Benjamin Groff (Right)

Marion Toehay Jr., a close friend of Benjamin Groff II, who typically authors this page, shares his heartfelt memories today as the world mourns the passing of Kris Kristofferson. The legendary singer-songwriter passed away on Saturday at age 88 in Hawaii. Marion met Kris in the summer of 1968, during the early days of Kristofferson’s career, at the Silver Dollar Saloon in Phoenix, Arizona.

In 1980, Marion became Benjamin’s first Chief of Police in Oklahoma, and today, he reflects on the unforgettable encounter he had with Kris all those years ago:

Kris Kristofferson was one of a kind. I had the chance to meet him when I was just 13 years old, working with my stepdad during the summer of 1968. We were selling produce to bars around Phoenix, Tucson, and the mining towns in the White Mountains. On our last stop in Phoenix, at a place called the Silver Dollar Saloon in what was known as Cowtown, we went inside—and there he was.

I remember seeing Kris Kristofferson stand up from a table and walk right over to us. He greeted my stepdad like an old friend, saying, “Y’all come sit down and have a beer.” At the table with him were none other than Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings.

My stepdad had always told me he knew Kristofferson, Cash, and Jennings, but up until then, I hadn’t met them myself. Every time we passed through, they just weren’t there. I was starting to think I’d never get the chance to meet them. But that evening, out of nowhere, they were larger than life. It was like a dream come true for me—a 14-year-old kid with a love for country life.

We spent the evening laughing, sharing stories, and, yes, drinking some beer. When we finally headed home, my mom awaited us, wondering why it had taken so long. I told her about meeting Kris, Johnny, and Waylon, and she just smiled and said, “Oh, okay,” as if it was no big deal. She’d met them before, too, thanks to my stepdad. But for me, it was the highlight of the summer—and a memory I’ll never forget.

Hearing about Kris Kristofferson’s passing is sad for everyone who admires him. My family and I send our deepest condolences and hope he rests in peace.