The Nashville Family Album: A Country Music Scrapbook

by Alan Mayor

Overview

Alan Mayor has spent the last 25 years photographing the stars of Nashville for record albums, music events, and in personal and candid settings. Now, he gives country music fans some of the greatest photographs ever taken of Nashville and the stars - along with her personal observations. Chapters will include:
*The Old Homestead - The Grand Old Opry Then and Now
*The Rebel Sons -- Willie, Waylon and Me
*The Ladies -- A Force to be Reckoned With
*On The Road Again -- Country on the Bus
*Gone But Not Forgotten -- Remembering Country Greats
The Nashville Family Album will contain sidebars on a whole host of topics and will have personal observations from many, many country greats about Nashville and Alan's photos of them. From Minnie Pearl to Garth Brooks, The Nashville Family Album will be the perfect Christmas present for fans of country music everywhere.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781466885677
Publisher:	St. Martin's Publishing Group
Publication date:	11/18/2014
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	272
File size:	44 MB
Note:	This product may take a few minutes to download.

About the Author

ALAN MAYOR has photographed all of the big country stars throughout their careers, and calls many of them his friends. He lives in Nashville, Tennessee.

Alan Mayor has photographed all of the big country stars throughout their careers, and calls many of them his friends. He lives in Nashville, Tennessee. He is the author of The Nashville Family Album.

Read an Excerpt

The Nashville Family Album

A Country Music Scrapbook

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By Alan L. Mayor

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 1999 Alan Mayor
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-8567-7

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CHAPTER 1

THE OLD HOMESTEAD

The Grand Ole Opry Then and Now

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With degrees in theater, English and philosophy, my chances for real-world employment were quite limited. I could become either a teacher or a stagehand. Although I had worked as a photographer while in college, I still thought I might go in other directions. As luck would have it, George Mabry, a teacher at Austin Peay State University, became the first musical director at a new Nashville theme park called Opryland USA.

In 1972, as the park was almost finished, many of the students in Austin Peay's music and theatre departments took advantage of its close proximity, only 60 miles away. We went by the carload from Clarksville to audition for performing and technical jobs that were few and far between around the area. After my tryout failed the first season, I took a choir class just so Dr. Mabry would know my name, and went back in 1973 to try out again.

This time I made it, landing the job of stage manager for the children's show called They Went Thattaway. I soon found out I was also the lighting and sound guy, prop-master and understudy for the lead role. As I never did learn the lead's part, I made sure he stayed healthy and was always on time. In the first few years, more than thirty-five of my college mates worked for live entertainment at Opryland USA.

It was helpful to have a nucleus of familiar faces when moving to the big city. We crashed on one another's couches, roomed together and partied together just like we did in college—only now we were getting paid. I shared a house on 20th Avenue South with my college singing buddies, Leo Adames and Doug Sumner. That spot is now a parking lot across the street from the Sunset Grill in Hillsboro Village.

The Village was a great place for us to land. We were just a block from the Pancake Pantry, since made famous in Garth Brooks's Rolling Stone interview. The Belcourt Theatre, which was used by the Grand Ole Opry in the '30s when it was known as the Hillsboro Theatre, played all the current movies. There was a post office, a laundry, a small Woolworth, an H. G. Hill Market and a Third National Bank branch. The pay phone on a nearby street corner served as my communications center, and my buddies Leo and Doug lived in the other apartment in the house. I could buy a pizza at the Villager, the neighborhood pub, and get my boots fixed, both within walking distance.

I had my first photo show at Mill's Bookstore that summer, and bought an Alverez guitar next door at Cotten Music from a salesman named Paul Worley, a Vanderbilt philosophy major who gave guitar lessons on the side to supplement his income. After years as a player, publisher and producer of artists like Martina McBride, he is now chief executive at Sony Music, overseeing the recordings of artists like Patty Loveless and Collin Raye. He just picked up his first Grammy as producer of the Dixie Chicks' album Wide Open Spaces. Oh, yes, he's still giving guitar lessons on the side, only now it's for W. O. Smith School of Music, where children who otherwise couldn't afford it come to take their baby steps into the music business.

Over the years, many talented people used Opryland's doors as the entryway to their dreams. A lot of us continue to have success in the Nashville music community. The summer I was there, Brooks and Dunn's producer, Don Cook, was in the country show, as was Mark Casstevens, an incredible guitarist who continues to make his mark in the studio and on the stage. Another park veteran is now head of Giant Records, home to artists Clay Walker and the Wilkinsons. Deborah Allen, Ken Mellons and members of Diamond Rio, then known as the Tennessee River Boys, worked at Opryland as they tried to make it in Nashville.

With the closing of Opryland in 1997, Nashville lost a great source of jobs for those who dream of working in the music industry. Though Opryland still has a production company, led by fellow Austin Peay student Joe Jerles, the talent is being sent to places like Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and Orlando, Florida, far away from Nashville's music community. One can only hope that its replacement, Opry Mills, will be able to bring this talent back here, before they find another place they want to call home. As some country philosopher might say, "Stop up the spring and you kill the river." Time will tell.

The Grand Ole Opry

Fifty years before I got here, an institution was started quite by accident when George D. Hay introduced a live music show on WSM radio as the Grand Ole Opry. The name stuck, and many local performers were attracted to this showcase for down-home country music. As the 5000-watt station became a 50,000-watt clear channel station in the 1930s, the already established show was beamed into thousands of homes from the Gulf of Mexico to the Canadian provinces, from eastern cities like Pittsburgh and Roanoke, Virginia, to the Rocky Mountains, far from the little town of Nashville, Tennessee. Like a beacon, it called in talent and fans from everywhere. Soon, this new musical Mecca would come to dominate the country music market.

By the time I arrived, the show was getting ready to move into its new building at Opryland USA. In 1973, as I worked in the park, I watched the huge red brick building rise out of what had been pasture land a few years before. My first ventures into the building revealed a monstrous cavern still open below the stage, devoid of all the ropes and curtains and stage floor that would make it into a theatre. Still, I was impressed. Within a year, the new building would debut as the home of the Grand Ole Opry, and its old home, the Ryman Auditorium, would become a tourist stop.

The night they made the transition, I was hanging out with some of my new Nashville friends when a call came from a DJ, who said he had some extra tickets we could have. We knew President Nixon would be there, and security would be tight, but we decided to go anyway. We piled into my white '68 Pontiac station wagon and headed for the Opry's first night in the new building.

On the way, we saw police and roadblocks everywhere, but no one tried to stop us. As we drove up Briley Parkway, a helicopter swooped down over us, and we realized there were no other cars on the road. Just before we got to the entrance to Opryland, we found out why. There, in the other lane, heading for the airport, was the presidential motorcade. All we could do was stare in amazement as they zipped past us. Somehow, we'd gotten through security. Thankfully, no one shot at us.

When we arrived, we found that the audience members for the second show were still standing out in the cold and beginning to get restless. Soon, someone started knocking on the glass doors, wanting to know why we couldn't come in. Someone yelled, "You let Tricky Dick in, why don't you let us regulars in?" Other sarcastic remarks followed, and someone else banged on the glass. Inside, you could see security guys scrambling and talking into their radios. Finally, after quite a delay, the doors opened and everyone headed to their seats.

It was then that we discovered why our tickets were free. The seats were in row ZZ, the very last row up in the nosebleed section. I felt like I needed a seatbelt to keep from rolling down toward the balcony. Our view of the stage was unobstructed, but Porter Wagoner was just a glimmer of sequins from there. We left early and spent forever in the parking lot, trying to find the car. I had one of those neon balls on my antenna to help me, but so did a lot of other people. I thought we would never get out of there!

A few months later, just weeks after I officially moved to Nashville, I had my second opportunity to visit the venerable hall. This time it was much more fun. A friend of mine in the park tipped me off that Paul McCartney was going to the Opry that night. I had no idea who to call, so I got into the park through people I had worked with the year before and found my way to the back door. I still had my college press card, and offered it to the guard. Though my name wasn't on the list, in the chaos, I managed to talk my way backstage.

I worked my way toward the stage and was surprised to see an opening in the curtains, center stage. I carefully peeked around the corner just in time to see Roy Acuff introduce Paul McCartney to the audience. I scrambled for my camera and took a quick shot, slightly out of focus, and discovered to my dismay that I was at the end of the roll. By the time I reloaded, the incredible moment was over.

Desperate for more photos, I went to the green room, where Paul and Linda were being interviewed. I couldn't get in, and the television reporter kept blocking me from his exclusive, so I pulled out a telephoto lens and shot between the sea of shoulders in front of me. I managed to get a few good ones and left shortly after.

I was mad at the reporter who tried to block my shots, so I called the Tennessean and offered my photo to them. They ran it in the Monday-morning issue, scooping the "surprise" interview that was to appear that evening on TV.

Years later, I ended up living across the street from the backstage guard, Mr. Bell, and one day confessed to him what I did. He found my story humorous, and said, "People tried things like that all the time, some got by, some didn't." He didn't remember me from Adam.

The Keepers of the Flame

1974 was a great time to move here. Most of the legends were still alive and drawing large audiences to the new facility. I found myself fascinated as I watched them work. Roy Acuff was the King of Country Music and Loretta Lynn charmed the audiences with songs taken from her true life experiences. Little Jimmy Dickens really was a little guy, but that only made his smile bigger, and Minnie Pearl's antics about "chasin' fellers" and Uncle Nabob brought roars of laughter from the people. Bill Monroe, with his white hat and solemn demeanor, was a commanding presence on the stage as he ripped through bluegrass numbers on his immortal Gibson mandolin.

Backstage was bustling with activity. Music came from some of the dressing rooms as bands warmed up and ran over new material. As I walked by, Loretta was giving advice to an aspiring young songwriter outside Roy's dressing room. In the green room, a woman happily gave out free coffee and lemonade. Performers opened the lockers lining the new hallways, storing their coats and getting out their instruments. People wandered casually out to the stage and watched from the benches behind the band. Standing in the shadows at stage right, the next act waited to go on the minute Grant Turner went to a Goo-Goo commercial. Looking at it, you'd never think there was any organization to the show at all. After years of existence, the Opry had taken on a life of its own, with the performers moving into place just in time to keep the show going. It reminded me of one of those big European clocks with the figures that always arrived just in time to ring the bell.

After photographing out there off and on for twenty-five years, I have come to realize that the passing of legends and the welcoming of new talent to the family also are part of the smooth transition that keeps the Opry running. The torch was passed from Uncle Dave Macon and DeFord Bailey to Roy and Minnie, who passed it on to Little Jimmy and Porter, who will pass it to Garth and Reba and Ricky and Vince and so on. The legends can rest easy knowing that the fire will be kept alive for generations to come, thanks to a tradition established in 1925 when George D. Hay welcomed listeners to a radio show he christened the Grand Ole Opry.

Welcome to the Family

Over the years, I have had the opportunity to cover many artists' first times on the Grand Ole Opry stage. I have always had fun witnessing these performers, from Ronnie McDowell in 1979 to Michael Peterson in 1998. The adrenaline is pumping as the young stars walk the hallways, absorbing the sights and sounds backstage. They are just as anxious to meet the Opry veterans as any of the fans filling the seats out front. Each one is fulfilling a dream that has been inside for a for a long time, for themselves, and sometimes for their family. All of them know the significance of this moment.

Highway 101 had their first opportunity in 1988 the night after the taping of the CMA's 30th Anniversary Special. After their debut, they sought out Bill Monroe so they could have their picture made with him. Kathy Mattea made her debut in August of that same year, just a few weeks after her song "Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses" made it to the top of the charts. Doug Stone found himself in Roy Acuff's dressing room, meeting the King for the first time, in 1990.

Collin Raye wanted his photo made with Connie Smith on the night of his 1992 debut. Michelle Wright got to hang out with Garth Brooks and swap stories before her 1992 performance. Randy Travis offered encouragement to Tracy Byrd in 1993, when he got his chance to make it to the Opry stage. Deborah Allen charmed Grandpa Jones as he brought her to the stage for the first time, in the fall of 1993. She had so much fun that she came back a month later to do it again. Teen heartthrobs the Moffats invaded Porter Wagoner's dressing room in 1994 to see all the photos covering the walls. Boy Howdy and Daron Norwood also made their first appearances in 1994, and Darlye Singletary made his in 1995.

Hank Williams III made his 1996 debut wearing one of his grandfather's shirts. Some of the older artists thought they were seeing a ghost. Michael Peterson's Opry debut in 1998 was followed the next night by his first appearance on the Ryman stage at Joe Diffie's 1st Steps charity concert. He had a hard time containing his joy as he told Diffie's audience how great his weekend had been.

But the biggest thrill for any country artist is becoming a member of the Grand Ole Opry. In 1986, I had my first opportunity to cover the induction of a new member. Randy Travis, the new kid from North Carolina, had swept the charts and captured the attention of the country music business, so it was not a surprise when they asked him to join. It was also not a surprise when he accepted.

Backstage, he was as nervous as a bridegroom, worrying about the awesome event that was about to occur. "Man, I am scared to death," he said to me as I congratulated him in the dressing room. I reassured him, saying, "Just remember the words, and they'll take care of the rest."

As Ricky Skaggs invited him to center stage and passed him the microphone, the Opry audience gave him a standing ovation. Randy's eyes lit up and his shy smile turned into a broad grin. When he finished singing, the fans gave him another standing ovation.

Twenty-seven-year-old Randy Traywick from Hendersonville, North Carolina, was on top of the world. He was the newest member of the Grand Ole Opry.

Two years later, it was time for a Pikeville, Kentucky, girl to join. With her kinship to Loretta Lynn's family and her authentic Appalachian vocal style, Patty Loveless was a natural addition to the Opry roster. In a floor- length print dress covered with flowers and birds, she was introduced to the audience by one of her mentors, Porter Wagoner. She sang her second single, "A Little Bit of Love," which was in the top five on the radio airplay charts, and her breakthrough record, "If My Heart Had Windows." The audience loved her.

Backstage, her family crowded around as she cut the celebratory cake with the help of longtime Opry manager Hal Durham. The green room was packed with well-wishers as the cake was divided and passed around. Pink lemonade and strong coffee was available to wash it down. It wasn't very different from a wedding reception in the family living room, except that the family she was joining was one of the most famous in the world. Needless to say, she was having a great time.

In 1991, when it was Vince Gill's time to join, the King of Country Music himself, Mr. Roy Acuff, had the pleasure of introducing him to the Grand Ole Opry audience. Mr. Roy took great pleasure in this induction, staying on stage through most of Vince's performance. He knew how valuable a member Vince Gill would be for the future of the Opry.

Shortly after Vince's induction, I became curious about who would be next. I called Jerry Strobel, the Opry's public relations director, and asked him what it took for an artist to become a member of the Grand Ole Opry. "You have to want to be a member, and we have to want you to join." Simple as that. Then I asked, "When is Marty Stuart going to become a member?"

In 1975, on one of my first trips to the Opry (the only time I didn't take my camera), I had been intrigued by one of Lester Flatt's band members. As I sat on one of the benches that line the back of the stage, I watched as he took off his white hat and hung it on the head of his mandolin while he waited to go on. I was intrigued enough to ask someone who he was. "That's Marty Stuart. He's only seventeen years old," he replied. I thought to myself, That kid wants to be a star.

In November of 1992, I got my answer. Press releases announced the upcoming induction of the Opry's next member. I called Jerry Strobel and said, "I think you know why I'm calling, I need clearance to come out and shoot Marty's induction." I could hear the smile in his voice as he accepted my request. Jerry knew that this Mississippi boy would become a valuable connection with the traditions of country music and its future.

He also knew that Marty cared deeply about the responsibilities that came with officially joining the family.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Nashville Family Album by Alan L. Mayor. Copyright © 1999 Alan Mayor. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Dedication,
Title Page,
Copyright Notice,
Acknowledgements,
INTRODUCTION by Garth Brooks,
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION,
FOREWORD by Robert K. Oermann,
1 THE OLD HOMESTEAD: The Grand Old Opry Then And Now,
2 A NASHVILLE FAMILY TREE,
3 THE BANDS: Keepin' It Together,
4 THE GIRL SINGERS: A Force To Be Reckoned With,
5 THE MEN,
6 WELCOME TO THE MUSIC BUSINESS: Making Music Behind The Scenes,
7 GARTH BROOKS: Artist Of The Decade,
8 THE NEXT GENERATION,
Photographs,
Copyright,