The Country Legends show at the American Music Theatre in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, can now join the robin and the opening of the buds on a ready-to-bloom tree as a sure sign that the drudgery of winter is firmly in the rearview mirror. When I find myself in the lobby of the theater watching the increasingly impatient elderly hordes complain about the lack of seats in the lobby and the unwillingness of theater management to open the theater doors, I know that spring has arrived and all will soon be bright and joyous again.
This year's lineup, as I have mentioned, didn't come close to measuring up to last year's, but there was still enough country goodness (aside from the stellar Cracker Barrel breakfast I ate across the street) to make the day worthwhile. And, as an added bonus, soon after the show started I discovered that the Joe West who was listed as the MC was, in fact, Joe West the Major League Baseball umpire. When I saw the name listed, I just assumed it was a different Joe West. Why would an umpire be emceeing a country show? Well, because he's also a singer. Really. He opened the show by singing Chuck Berry's "Promised Land." Now, how often have you seen an umpire sing a Chuck Berry song? Yeah, that's what I thought. Score one for me.
My picture taking was light this year, but I made sure I got this one just to make you jealous:
Jan Howard was the first nonumpiring legend to take the stage, and since she was once married to Harlan Howard, she gets a lifetime coolness pass. Her brief set (like Hippiefest, all sets were brief) sounded real good, though she lost points by closing with "Wind Beneath My Wings," a song I would hate no matter who sang it. But the old folks seemed to like it just fine, and since they outnumbered me by several thousand, I will cede to them.
I have no pictures of Jan Howard to share with you, nor do I have any pictures of the next man to take the stage, Freddie Hart. Sporting what I can only assume was a hairpiece (when I got close enough, I thought it would be impolite to stare), the brown-haired 80-year-old mainly stood in one place and sang, which, when it comes down to it, wouldn't be a bad lesson for most of Young Hot Country to learn. I came in largely unfamiliar with Hart outside of "Easy Lovin," which doesn't really knock me out (creepy opening lines: Easy lovin'/So sexy-lookin'). But he won me over with genuine humility and gratitude and my favorite kind of classic country song, a recitation ("Hank Williams' Guitar," sung/spoken from the perspective of said instrument).
Jack Greene was next, and he sure looked spiffy. Luckily, he can also still sing the hell out of his hits, including "There Goes My Everything" and the stone-cold (partial pun intended) classic "Statue of a Fool." He held the closing note like a champ, singing with the same evenness and cool of Ray Price a few nights before. Surprisingly, he seemed a little more frail and uncertain when I met him afterward, but I suppose a lot of 77-year-olds give off the same vibe. I had a chance for a photo with him but I got stuck waiting to take some guy's picture with Stonewall Jackson (he had done the same for me), so I just got this shot.
After the intermission, Stonewall Jackson took the stage for what was probably my second-favorite set (after Greene), partially because he did a Billy Joe Shaver song ("I'm Just an Old Chunk of Coal"). Also, he had the song I most wanted to hear going into the day, the set-closing "Waterloo," which, while not much of a song when you look at it, has been stuck in my head for most of the last two weeks. It got the biggest crowd reaction of the day, which, in this case, means something slightly more than polite applause but less than full-throated delirium.
Stonewall (that's his real name, by the way) is currently suing the Grand Ole Opry for $10 million in a lawsuit that claims the Opry is guilty of age discrimination. I don't know how successful he'll be, but the lawsuit highlights the problem the Opry faces in a world where more respect is given to the new country acts (who, for the most part, either can't or won't commit to joining the Opry and getting people in the seats) than the classic country acts that made the Opry the cultural institution that it is. It'll be a tough road ahead for the Opry and its current members, which is why I make such an effort to see people like Stonewall Jackson, lest I don't get the chance to see them again so I can lean over a table awkwardly and take a picture with them.
The afternoon (I love shows that start at 2...I really hope I get the chance to be elderly) ended with the duo who replaced Porter Wagoner on the bill (which, through my random surveying of the pre- and postshow crowd, very few knew about), Jim Ed Brown and Helen Cornelius. Helen Cornelius still sings real well, and I liked her version of "I'm Not Lisa," but, overall, she doesn't do much for me. Jim Ed Brown at least has "Pop A Top" to his credit, plus the hypnotic "The Three Bells," both of which were on the setlist. Plus, Jim Ed Brown is visually entertaining to me because he uses his guitar as little more than a prop. And I don't mean that he just straps it around his shoulder and idly strums along. No, he doesn't even bother putting a strap on it. He just pulls it to his chest, strums inaudibly for a few seconds, and then puts it back down to lean on until he gets the urge to strum some more. I guess it's his safety blanket. Whatever works.
I should point out that Helen Cornelius is the blonde. The gray-haired dame was just helping out with merch, I guess. She was one of the few older people who didn't start up a conversation with me that focused on how good it was to see a young person such as myself at a Country Legends show. Thirty never feels quite as young as it does in Lancaster. And it's nice to talk to old country fans about the people they've met and the cruises they've taken with Little Jimmy Dickens and Whisperin' Bill Anderson. In fact, the postshow autograph free-for-all/social hour was almost as enjoyable as the show.
And then the day in Lancaster ended with the smorgasbord at Hershey Farm. I kind of wish I was one of those people who can truly get his money's worth at a smorgasbord. But I'm not. Still, I think I did OK. And I talked to some old goats outside.
Shame on you if you didn't see that picture coming.
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