🎤 A Young Man with Two Dreams
Before Conway Twitty was a household name in country music, he was Harold Lloyd Jenkins from Friars Point, Mississippi—a boy torn between two passions: baseball and music. He was talented enough on the diamond to attract interest from professional scouts, and at the same time, his baritone voice caught the attention of anyone who heard him sing. But fate has a way of forcing choices. Drafted into the U.S. Army in the early 1950s, Jenkins formed a band called the Cimmarons while stationed overseas. It was in those barracks and makeshift stages that he began to realize music wasn’t just a pastime; it was destiny.
When he returned to the States, Harold took a stage name—“Conway Twitty”—pieced together from a map, pointing to Conway, Arkansas, and Twitty, Texas. It was catchy, memorable, and just unusual enough to stand out. He didn’t know it yet, but that new identity would carry him into one of the strangest and most challenging journeys in American popular music.
🌟 The Birth of a Rock ’n’ Roll Hit
In 1958, rock ’n’ roll was the pulse of youth. Elvis Presley ruled the charts, Jerry Lee Lewis pounded pianos with wild abandon, and Buddy Holly was proving that teenagers wanted music they could claim as their own. Conway Twitty stepped into this arena with a song recorded almost as a throwaway. “It’s Only Make Believe,” co-written with drummer Jack Nance, was released with little fanfare.
At first, the song barely moved. DJs weren’t paying much attention, and listeners seemed indifferent. But something strange happened when the record crossed the Atlantic. British audiences picked it up, and soon “It’s Only Make Believe” climbed the charts overseas. The energy came back to America like a tidal wave—by November 1958, the song hit No.1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Conway Twitty, almost overnight, became a rock sensation.
The song was dramatic, aching, and delivered with a voice that could swing from tender to volcanic. For many teenagers, Twitty became the “next Elvis.” But for Conway, that was a double-edged sword.
💔 The Burden of Comparisons
Success is a blessing, but in music it can also be a trap. Everywhere Twitty went, he was compared to Elvis Presley. The hair, the voice, the emotional delivery—they were close enough that critics and audiences thought Conway might be little more than an imitator.
Conway didn’t see it that way. He admired Elvis but wanted his own lane. Still, promoters billed him as “the man who sounds like Elvis.” Fans screamed, but inside Twitty knew this label wasn’t sustainable. He didn’t want to be a shadow; he wanted to be an artist with his own identity.
For the next several years, Twitty chased more rock ’n’ roll hits, but none could match the intensity of “It’s Only Make Believe.” Songs like “Danny Boy” and “Lonely Blue Boy” earned attention, but the momentum was fading. Rock was evolving, and new acts were taking the spotlight. Conway was left asking himself: Was he destined to be a one-hit wonder?
🎶 Restlessness and Reinvention
By the early 1960s, Conway Twitty was restless. Touring relentlessly, he grew tired of the grind and disillusioned with the fickle nature of rock audiences. Meanwhile, country music—his first love, the sound of his Southern upbringing—was calling him back.
It wasn’t an easy choice. The industry pigeonholed him as a rock singer, and Nashville was skeptical. Crossing over wasn’t common, and Conway risked losing everything he had built. But he trusted his instincts. By 1965, he made the leap, abandoning rock ’n’ roll to pursue a career in country.
For many, this seemed like career suicide. But for Conway Twitty, it was the start of his true legacy.
📀 The Long Shadow of a Hit
Despite his growing success in country—eventually racking up 40 No.1 hits, a record unmatched until George Strait—“It’s Only Make Believe” never left him. Audiences remembered him first as the young rock singer, the supposed Elvis clone. Even as he stood on country stages in the 1970s, fans would still request the old hit from 1958.
For Conway, the song was both a blessing and a burden. It had given him a career, a stage name that mattered, and international fame. But it also shackled him to a moment in time he was desperate to outgrow. He once admitted that the hardest part of his career was proving that he was more than just that song.
Yet, in hindsight, “It’s Only Make Believe” was not an anchor—it was a foundation. Without it, the world might never have discovered Conway Twitty at all.
🎤 A Voice That Could Not Be Ignored
Part of what made Conway Twitty’s journey remarkable was his voice. In “It’s Only Make Believe,” listeners heard a raw, emotional instrument capable of bending notes, swelling with heartbreak, and exploding with passion. That voice didn’t disappear when he moved into country—it adapted.
When he sang “Hello Darlin’” in 1970, his first country No.1, it was clear the same man who once shook teenagers with rock ’n’ roll was now breaking hearts with country ballads. The continuity between his rock beginnings and country dominance lay in the power of his voice. He wasn’t pretending, and he wasn’t imitating. He was Conway Twitty, and his voice could tell any story.
🌹 The Legacy of a Make-Believe Beginning
Today, “It’s Only Make Believe” stands as one of the great rock ballads of the 1950s. Artists from Glen Campbell to Ronnie McDowell have covered it, and its haunting melody still resonates. For country fans, it’s a reminder of how far Conway Twitty traveled.
His career is a lesson in resilience, reinvention, and faith in one’s own path. The shadow of being a “rock prodigy” could have buried him. Instead, he turned it into fuel, proving he wasn’t just a one-hit wonder but one of the greatest country voices of all time.
“It’s Only Make Believe” may have started as just a song, but for Conway Twitty, it became the first chapter in a remarkable American story—one that still echoes through jukeboxes, radios, and memories.