Grande Old Opry

 GRAND OLE OPRY, RYMAN AUDITIOREM This is mostly copied, pasted, and edited from a previous post. Ken Burn's current running special of NPR about the history of country music inspired me to recycle it.

I just read an article in AARP Magazine about Willie Nelson by Rich Cohen, which brought up the time he met Charlie Dick, manager and husband of Patsy Cline, which he met Patsy, and she sung a song he wrote, “Crazy”, which she got to hear before she died. Her death brought up the memories below:

In October 1962 President J.F. Kennedy spoke live to Americans via live TV. He told us through what he learned from spies and aerial photos that the U.S.S.R. was arming Cuba. Kennedy ordered a blockade of the little country only 90 miles from Florida.

By the way newscasters were whispering seriously like they were almost scared they would be heard, about war possibilities.

“Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country..” I typed in typing class hundred of times. But in October 1962, it was serious. But when they said “good” I’m not sure I am that good of a person. So, I substituted “young” for “good”.

Now is the time for all young men to come to the aid of their country. I enlisted in the Navy Reserves at NAS ATLANTA in Marietta.

The Navy technician in charge of finger printing, Military I.D. cards, and Dog Tags was a friend, co-high school student and co-Big Apple Grocery Store employee.

I had my boot camp in December and it was planned that I would go active duty for two years in July 1963.

Before I went into an active duty and God knows where, I wanted my friends and I to go to the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville.

Then I had a PV544 Volvo. We decided to go to Nashville in it. It was small, we would probably get better gas mileage. But it had brake problem. My friend, who also was going on the trip said bring it by his mother’s house and we (him) would put new brakes on. Which I brought by his house. And we (him) put on the new brakes.

On the trip, this was before Interstate expressways, we went the old Dixie Highway. Miles north of Chattanooga the road going up hills and mountains got steep. Coming down one steep hill my brakes gave and our uncontrollable speed picked up getting faster and faster and faster. Thank God for truck runaway ramps back then. It saved our lives. Ed screamed until we came to a stop.

I’m not sure of the date we went but it was before March 5, 1963. Patsy Cline died on March 5, 1963, and so did Cowboy Copus. We saw them perform at the Grand Ole’ Opry.

We drove into Nashville and got us a room at the Andrew Jackson Hotel, next door to the Ryman Auditorium, home of the Grande Ole Opry.

We went down on the streets of downtown Nashville to find a place to eat. We ate at a Five and Dime Store, maybe Woolworths. The booth we were witting in was facing the sidewalk. A tall unkempt man with a guitar slung on him was just outside the window looking at every bite we took. We invited him to join us. He mimicked that he had no money. We motioned that we would buy him a meal, which he immediately joined us. He told he and Cowboy Copus grew up together and were good friends. Cowboy told him if he ever got to Nashville he would see that he got to play on stage at the Grande Ole Opry.

We wished him good luck.

Shortly after that we were in the balcony of the Ryman Auditorium stomping our feet to country music. We saw giant cereal boxes and famous singers, lined up one after another. Cowboy Copus was the M.C. and kept the show time moving rapidly.

Then I looked down on the first floor and saw the familiar dirty old raincoat and the guitar. I punched my friends to look. The old drunk we bought his dinner was walking up the aisle toward the stage. An usher stepped out from nowhere and asked him something. The man pointed up towards Cowboy Copus and said something. Another usher joined them. They bot listened to hm and half way politely nodding and rudely shaking their head. They forcefully removed the bewildered man. Cowboy Copus, playing up on stage did not miss a beat.

Patsy Cline played that night. My memory is confused. I think her and Cowboy Copus were killed in a plain wreck in Camden, Tennessee, either that night or the following Saturday night.

Afterwards we went to a jam session at something like Earne’s Music Store and then to a bar/lounge called the Jungle. Our waitress flirted with us for tips and somehow learned she had six or seven kids at home that her husband was minding over while she worked, not that that had anything to do with anything.