First Night On The Grand Ole Opry
FROM NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE AND THE RYMAN AUDITORIUM, IT'S THE GRAND OLE OPRY
let her go boys! (Fiddle swells, lights come up, square dancers swirl, Minnie Pearl adjusts the price tag on her hat, Stringbean stands at the edge of the stage with his long shirt, and pants that start at the knee, absolute chaos on, and around, and back of  the stage, as the announcer, Mr. Grant Turner says, "And now ladies and gentlemen, here's the star of the Martha White portion of the Grand Ole Opry, Roy Acuff and the Smoky Mountain Boys!"......)
It's just like standing in the center ring of the Ringling Brothers Circus... that's what I was thinking as I stood at the edge of the stage, looking out at the stage and the crowded auditorium, people that were stars and heroes of mine bumping and pushing past me, Roy Acuff balancing the fiddle bow on his chin, while the Smoky Mountain Boys play the turn around on Great Speckled Bird...and I have never been so scared in my life.
I had come to the back door of the Ryman Auditorium, stage entrance of the stars, climbed those twisting stairs, timidly pushed open the door, and explained to the guard, sitting there in his steel folding chair, that I was Stan Hitchcock (except it came out sounding like Tan Itchock, cause my throat was so dry, my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth) and I was on the eight o'clock portion of the show. He looked at me right kindly, like he had seen them all come and go, and told me to come on in, I could put my guitar back in the community dressing room, and to make myself at home.
I had been told to ask for Vito, the old, white haired father figure, confessor, confidant and stage manager, who, somehow, made sense out of all this unbelievable jumble. I found him, or rather he found me, standing there with my mouth open, taking it all in, and looking like the country bumpkin that I was. He came up behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, and calmed me just like a great horse trainer can calm a nervous horse. After we talked for a few minutes, and I started feeling a part of this circus, he sent me over to the corner to talk to the staff bands bass player, Junior Husky.
Junior's name was really Roy, although nobody called him that, but, he was an old salt at this business of country music, and he could make that dog house bass of his talk. He had a note pad and took down the chord changes to my new record, made copies for the other musicians....and that was the extent of rehearsal.
I stood there with my Gibson tuned up, a sick smile plastered on my show biz face, my new shirt and tie choking me, and them tight pants had crawled so far up my butt that I could hardly breathe (a condition known as Entertainers Butt Breathing Syndrome)....as I listened to Roy Acuff say, "Well now neighbors, we've got a new boy from the Ozark Mountains of Missouri on the show with us tonight, he's gonna sing his brand new record for you.....let's give him a nice round of applause....Mister Tan Itchok (that's what it sounded like, I'll swear, the guard must have told him). I moved stiffly out to center stage, had the presence of mindto thank Mr. Acuff, and did the only thing I knew for sure how to do....I reached down inside myself, and pulled out a song.
All the time I'm singing, my mind keeps saying, you're standing right in the spot where Hank Williams stood when you listened on the radio as he sang Lovesick Blues. How one part of my mind could do that, all the time remembering the words to my new record, I'll never know...but, in about three minutes the song ended, the crowd applauded politely, and I somehow navigated off stage.
The other entertainers were all friendly, and welcomed me to their midst, but one, Dave Akeman, also known as Stringbean, sorta took me under his wing, took me over to the corner, out of the way, lit up his old pipe and started telling me stories and just generally making me feel at ease. So, by the time of my next show, at ten o'clock, again with Mr. Roy Acuff and the Smoky Mountain Boys, I was feeling much better and actually looking forward to getting back out on that stage. To my great relief, Mr. Acuff even got my name right, this time.
I had picked a favorite gospel song that I loved..."Where No One Stands Alone" for my second number. Well, I don't know if it was because the crowd was more mellow, or whether I was just in better form, but I went out there and hooked that song, I mean I wrung it plumb out....and half-way into it I knew that I had that crowd with me all the way. It was a powerful feeling.
As the last note was ringing out, the crowd just exploded, and I stepped back from the mike with my heart just busting with emotion. I turned to leave the stage, and Roy put his arm around me, turned me back to the mike, and said, "They want more, do it for'em."
With my heart about to burst with pride, I stepped back up to the mike to deliver my grand finale, when the damnedest sound I ever heard rolled across the stage. It sounded about like a bab calf that's caught in the briars, hollering for his mama, "WAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
Everything just froze on stage, especially me, as I caught sight of a figure, out of the corner of my eye, just a-running for the edge of the stage. Now, as most of you know, the man who was a mainstay with the Smoky Mountain Boys for longer than he cares to remember, the comedy relief, the dobro player and harmony singer, is Bashful Brother Oswald.
Part of BBO's act was putting on these huge clown shoes, at least three feet long, running out to the very edge of the stage, from the wings, and whopping those shoes, real loud, on the wooden floor of the stage. This created a sound much like a watermelon hitting concrete after being tossed off the 10th story of a high-rise.
What none of us knew, however, was that between shows, Bashful Brother had slipped over through the alley in back of the Opry House, and through the back door of that famous watering hole of the stars.....Tootsies Orchard Lounge. He had partaken of adult beverages, to a degree not suitable for coherent, and careful planning, of good, old fashioned family entertainment, a condition, as it turned out, most unusual of this fine gentleman, who was usually a credit to his race.
Well, the only race Bashful was interested in, at this particular moment in time, was the race to the end of the stage. Trouble is, when he ran past me and hit the end of the stage, his big old shoes caught on the edge of a footlight and .he just kept going...It looked like one of those newsreel films where the airplane is taking off from the carrier deck, ya'know the one where you see he ain't gonna make it, and he falls off the end of the deck and into the sea...well, the only difference was, Bashful Brother fell off the end of the stage, and right on top of a rather plump lady in the first row of those old wooden church pews. Pandemonium broke out in the crowd...they just roared, laughing, hollering, clapping and whatever.....while I stood there just embarrassed to death.
As Oswald was being picked up, and the woman being fluffed up, like a overstuffed couch, I kinda slumped off stage and headed back to the dressing room to put away my guitar, get those darn pants out of my butt and think about the encore...that almost was.
I was sitting in the dressing room, kinda thinking it all over, when the door opened and Mr. Acuff came in. He evidently had come looking for me, because he came right over, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Son, Oswald hadn't ought to have done that to you, messing up your encore and all, and I know he'll probably want to apologize for it later, but, ya'know, the only reason any of us is here tonight is to entertain those good folks, and I guarantee you they'll never forget this night of Oswald flying off stage.....and son, you were part of it, so be proud. You did your job good tonight."
I've often thought of that night since then, and the good advice that Mr. Acuff gave me....put aside ego, put aside pride and just go out there and do your job, and whatever it takes, entertain those folks. Thank you Mr. Acuff, and thank you Bashful Brother Oswald, for breaking me in right, on my very first night on the Grand Ole Opry. I've never suffered from stage fright, or taken myself too seriously since then....man, how could you, when you have witnessed the worlds greatest swan dive....and it makes you realize that no matter how good you have just been, someone else can come running by you and do it better. Bravo Bashful Brother.
Your friend, Stan!
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