Remembering Lulu Roman: A Country Comedy Queen, A Gospel Soul, and One of Mama’s Best Friends

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Lulu Roman with her W.W. Samuel High School classmates cooking. Zach Ward (left), LuLu Roman (center), and my mother (right). Photo taken in approximately 1960.

Some people leave a legacy. Others leave laughter. Lulu Roman left both.

To the world, she was the beloved breakout star of Hee Haw, a gospel powerhouse, and an undeniable fixture of classic country entertainment. But to my mom—who passed nearly eleven years to the day before Lulu—she was simply a best friend, a mischief-maker, and a fellow Texas girl who wasn’t afraid to love hard, laugh loud, or keep a skunk as a pet. Yeah, you read that right. Skunks.

Long before the lights of Nashville ever caught Lulu’s eye, she and my mama were raising a different kind of hell back in high school. According to Mom’s stories—and Lord, did she tell them with a twinkle in her eye—she and Lulu would go “skunk hunting.” Not for sport. Not for pest control. For pets. Honest to God, they’d bring them home, take them to a local vet who would remove their scent glands (tree huggers, don’t come at me sideways—we’re talking Texas in the 60s), and proudly parade them around like stripe-tailed chihuahuas. Why? I’ve asked. Still don’t know. But that was them: wild, weird, and unapologetically unique.

I was just a little girl—six or seven—when I met Lulu in person. She was performing in Greenville, Texas, and someone took us backstage. I’ll never forget it. We knocked on her dressing room door, and it flung open like a scene out of a movie. There she was, larger than life, arms outstretched, grinning from ear to ear. She scooped us up in hugs and kisses, like long-lost family. That was Lulu—warm, effusive, and real in a way you don’t forget.

Born Bertha Louise Hable on May 6, 1946, in Pilot Point, Texas, Lulu was raised at the Buckner Children’s Home in Dallas after being abandoned as an infant. She faced more adversity before adulthood than most see in a lifetime—a thyroid condition, poverty, addiction, and institutional stigma. But Lulu Roman didn’t fold. She laughed. She sang. She soared.

Her rise to fame came through Hee Haw, the wildly successful country variety show where she became a fan favorite with her big laugh and even bigger personality. Later, she found renewed purpose and passion in gospel music, earning Dove Award nominations and the deep respect of the Christian music world.

She was the kind of woman who could make you laugh, then sing you to tears. The kind of woman who left a little sparkle and sass wherever she went.

And now—well, now she’s gone. Lulu passed away on April 23, 2025, at the age of 78. My mom’s been gone since April 28, 2014. It’s strange how grief hits in ripples—some fresh, some familiar. But I like to imagine the two of them reunited now, already swapping stories and wrangling a few heavenly skunks for old time’s sake.

Lulu Roman wasn’t just a performer. She was a survivor, a sister in spirit to so many, and someone who truly knew how to make a person feel loved—whether in front of a camera or backstage with a six-year-old fan.

Rest easy, Lulu. Tell Mom I said hi. I hope y’all are raising just a little bit of good trouble up there—Texas style.