Bill Fitzhugh - Fender Benders (50 page)

At the backstage entrance a young security guard saw Chester
approaching.
 
He didn’t recognize the
haggard old man with the guitar case, but he assumed Chester
was one of those who had come before his own country music
heros
.
 
The kid had once made the mistake of stopping
a poorly dressed older man at the door, only to find out he was a member of the
Opry. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
 
“You’re here early,” the kid said.

Chester hefted
his guitar case slightly.
 
“Gotta run
scales,” he said.
 
“I’m a little rusty.”

Chester showed his
pass and slipped inside.
 
There were all
manner of technicians, record company personnel, and media coordinators
scurrying around the auditorium.
 
They
were all so busy they didn’t pay Chester
the slightest attention.
 
He was neither
legend nor ‘It Boy.’
 
He passed through
the backstage area and smiled when he saw the famous barn façade and WSM logo
that was used each week for the
Grand Ole
Opry
.

Chester had
never been to the new Opry.
 
It was a
beautiful and modern 4,400 seat auditorium.
 
Tradition being the sort of thing that was honored in the culture, there
was an eight-foot circle of hardwood taken from the stage at the Ryman and
placed center stage here.
 
It gave Chester
pause to think of the people who had performed on that very surface.
 
He’d never made it there himself, so he
walked out on the stage and stood there for a moment before moving on to what
he had to do.

He spent nearly an hour studying the layout of the building,
starting down in the trap for the hoists and scenery lifts.
 
Evntually Chester headed back up through the
parterre, past the control room, up a flight of stairs to the balcony, then to
the gallery.
 
There he found what he
needed — a secluded wall-mounted ladder leading up to the catwalk.
 
It wasn’t an easy climb with the guitar case
but Chester managed to get up.
 
Once there he had to find a spot where he
wouldn’t be discovered.

About sixty feet away he saw a camera operator setting up
behind the front lights, and there were a few spot operators clambering around
the lighting grid but none of them appeared to have need to pass where Chester
was going.
 
He found a safe spot, sat
down, and settled in for the wait.

He opened the guitar case and pulled out the Springfield
Arms 30.06.
 
It had a 6X Redfield scope
mounted on top.
 
Chester
had hunted a lot of deer with a rifle like this and was still a fair shot at
two hundred yards.
 
He figured from his
current vantage point, which was more like fifty yards from center
stage,
even Ronnie Milsap could hit the target.
 
Chester
slipped a round into the chamber and checked the safety.
 
Then he sat back, closed his eyes, and
waited.

94.

The crowd began drifting in a couple of hours later, filling
the seats in the back of the gallery and balcony.
 
As curtain approached, more and more stars
took their seats in the parterre.
 
Jimmy
had been milling around the foyer for the last forty-five minutes making notes
for his first e-stallment for the Atlas website.
 
He spent most of his time judging the
attire.
 
Unlike the elegant CMA gathering
with its emphasis on designer fashions, the crowd at the Country Fanfare Awards
dressed in an array of styles ranging from would-you-take-a-look-at-my-cleavage
gowns to prom-night-at-
Hee-Haw
tuxedos.
 
About half the crowd was
wearing cowboy hats and there were so many exotic animal skins stretched into
the shape of Italy
you’d have thought some over-snuffed bootmaker had used the endangered species
list to make up his catalogue.

About fifteen minutes before the scheduled start time, Jimmy
headed for his seat in the middle of the auditorium and read through the
program.
 
This year’s Country Fanfare
Awards called for thirty performances and twenty awards, starting with Best
Male Vocal Performance and ending with Record of the Year.
 
Eddie’s Tall Cotton Award was scheduled for
the midpoint in the show, right after a performance by Mary-Maggie-Mason, a hot
new band whose music was best described as hip-hop country.
 
M3, as the group was known, was also up for
the Best New Non-Traditional Primarily Female Trio Award.
 
The band featured the traditional country
instrumentation of two guitars, a pedal steel, fiddle, bass, keyboards, and
drums, but they also featured a DJ.
 
They
were the first country act to use the rap technique of scratching and sampling
old records as part of their music.
 
They
incorporated bits of Hank Williams, Bob Wills, The Louvin Brothers, and Tammy
Wynette recordings in their popular debut album.
 
Contemporary country fans loved M3’s hipness
and a surprising number of pop music fans had embraced the group as well.
 
Predictably, traditionalists were appalled by
what they considered the group’s shameful disrespect for the classics.
 
Jimmy overheard one member of the Opry say he
thought Mary-Maggie-Mason was the surest sign he’d yet seen of the coming
Apocalypse.

At
eight o’clock
,
the lights dimmed, the curtains rose, and the announcer came over the sound
system.
 
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome
to the sixteenth annual Country Fanfare Awards!”
 
The show opened with an ill-conceived dance
number set to a medley of all the songs nominated for Song of the Year.
 
Jimmy wasn’t sure but he hypothesized the
choreographer was attempting an interpretive square dance.
 
After that things couldn’t help but improve.

The Master of Ceremonies was a popular country comedian who
opened the show by saying, “You might be a redneck if you’re here.”

The show was only twenty minutes behind-schedule as they
neared the midpoint.
 
Mary- Maggie-Mason
had just been introduced to wild applause and was ripping through their new
single which drew on fragments of Johnny Cash, Ferlin Husky, and Doug Kershaw.

The presentation of the Tall Cotton Award was four minutes
away.
 
Eddie and the rest of ‘Team
Long Shot’
were back in Eddie’s dressing
room having a last-minute discussion about acceptance speech strategy.

“I think Bill’s right,” Franklin
said.
 
“It looks better if you walk out
there holding Megan’s hand.”

“It humanizes you,” Big Bill explained.
 
“You walk out there with your girl who’s proud
to be with you, who’s at your side during your time of adversity, and then you
get that award?”
 
He shook his head.
 
“Nobody’ll care what’s in that damn book.”

Megan tentatively reached over and took Eddie’s hand.
 
“And I am proud, Eddie.
 
You know that,” she said.

“Okay,” Eddie said, “I think you’re right.
 
We’ll hold hands.
 
Now, what if I just make a joke about the
book?
 
Sort of dismiss it as the price we
have to pay, that sort of thing?”

“No, don’t even bring it up,” Franklin
said.
 
“Bringing it up just means you
feel you have to defend yourself which implies there’s some truth to it, even
if you’re doing it in a joking manner.
 
I’d just ignore it.”
 
Big Bill
nodded agreement.

“Okay,” Eddie said.
 
“Fine.”
 
He was
bouncing on his toes, full of nervous energy.
 
“No book jokes.
 
Don’t even
mention it.”

There was a knock on the door.
 
“Two minutes,” a voice said.

Big Bill slapped him on the shoulder.
 
“See you on stage.”
 
He and Franklin turned and headed out the
door.

Megan ran her hand down Eddie’s arm.
 
“How you doin’ there, champ?”

“I’m a nervous wreck,” he said.
 
“And I’m a terrible person who doesn’t
deserve to have someone as good as you holding my hand.
 
I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“What else am I gonna do?
 
Miss Wynette said ‘stand by your man.’”
 
She shrugged.
 
“Who am I to
argue?”
 
Megan primped the front of
Eddie’s coat,
then
she got on her tip toes and kissed
him on the cheek.
 
“Now let’s go get us a
statue.”
 
She winked at him.

95.

As the members of M3 took their bows, a new backdrop
descended onto the stage in front of them, arousing soft ooohs and aaahs from
the crowd.
 
It was an exquisite wall of
billowy cotton some of which had been subtly shaded ivory to spell out ‘Tall Cotton
Award’ against the bleached white background.
 
“And now,” the off-stage announcer said, “The Country Fanfare
Association is proud to present the newest jewel in our crown.
 
Brought to you by the
Cotton Farmers of America, here to present the inaugural Tall Cotton Award,
ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Franklin Peavy and Big Bill Herron.”
 
The audience responded with enthusiastic, if
insincere, applause.

As Big Bill and Franklin walked toward the podium from
opposite sides of the stage, Chester
got ready.
 
Doubt never entered his
mind.
 
He was settled on what he was
going to do and, dispassionately, he set about doing it.
 
He took a sponge-sized beanbag and draped it
on one of the struts that formed the guardrail of the catwalk.
 
He carefully raised the 30.06 and laid the
barrel onto the beanbag, his bench rest.
 
Chester switched the safety
off,
then
rolled his neck once.
 
He put his cheek near the stock, closed his
left eye and peered through the scope with his right.

Big Bill and Franklin, both wearing modestly sequined
tuxedos, met behind the podium at center stage and took small bows as they
waited for the applause to die down.
 
When things settled, Big Bill leaned toward the mic and read stiffly
from the Teleprompter.
 
“We work in a
business built by and blessed with exceptional artists,” he said.
 
“And it’s on nights like this one when we
rightfully take the time to recognize their artistry and their contributions to
the country music industry.”
 
Big Bill
stepped back from the podium slightly.

Franklin leaned
in toward the microphone.
 
“But every now
and then someone so special comes along that we have to find a new way to
acknowledge their gift.”

Big Bill continued, “So when this next artist exploded onto
the scene, takin’ the world of country music by storm, the board of governors
of the Country Fanfare Association realized they’d be tryin’ to cut the big hog
with the little knife by honoring him with any of their existing awards.”
 
There was a smattering of laughter in the
crowd.

“So they created a new award to commemorate any debut album
which achieves double platinum status in less than six months.”
 
Franklin
paused again for applause while Big Bill hoisted the trophy and stepped out
from behind the podium.
 
“It is our
pleasure here tonight to present the inaugural CFA Tall Cotton Award to the one
and only …
Mr.
…Eddie …Long.”

The chorus of ‘
It Wasn’t Supposed To
End That Way’ came soaring from the sound system as Eddie and Megan walked out
from the wings holding hands, country music’s hottest new couple.
 
The fans in the backs of the balcony and
gallery shot to their feet in a wild burst of applause.
 
Eddie’s fellow artists rose and gave him a
standing ovation.
 
Some of them even
meant it.
 
Eddie waved modestly then
tipped his hat just so.
 
He did his best
to smile in an aw-shucks-I’m-not-sure-I-deserve-this-but-thanks sort of
way.
 
Megan basked in the moment as they
crossed the stage to where Big Bill stood waiting with the trophy.

Jimmy couldn’t believe how beautiful she was.
 
She was wearing a sheer amber gown cut low in
the front and the back.
 
Her wild red
hair crowned her magnificently and she carried herself like she belonged on the
stage.
 
From the moment Jimmy saw her
walk onto the stage he felt an ache of jealousy he never could have imagined,
much less understand.

Chester had
Megan’s magnificently crowned head square in his sight as she floated across
the stage with Eddie.
 
“Pop,” he said
quietly.
 
The thunderous applause
continued as Chester watched
through the 6X Redfield scope.

Eddie let go of Megan’s hand as he reached out to receive
the trophy from Big Bill who was so overwhelmed by emotion he had to blink back
a tear.
 
He had come to think of Eddie as
the son he never had.
 
He was proud of
his boy.
 
Eddie looked at the trophy,
then at Big Bill, the man who made it all happen.
 
The two men embraced.
 
“Congratulations,” Big Bill said.
 
“You earned it.”

Eddie turned and set the trophy on the podium.
 
He waited for the crowd to take their seats
again so he could speak.
 
Megan was on
his left, her hands clasped in front of her.
 
Big Bill and Franklin stood on his right.
 
Once the auditorium was quiet, Eddie leaned
toward the microphone.
 
“First of all,”
he said, “I want to thank the CFA Board of Governors for giving me this
tremendous honor.
 
Of course I have to
thank all the fans and everybody in country radio.
 
Without them this never could’ve
happened.”
 
Eddie turned to his
left.
 
“I owe a special thanks to my road
manager and . .
.more
, Megan Taylor.”
 
She blew him a kiss.
 
Eddie turned to his right.
 
“And finally, to the two guys who let me in
the door to this business.
 
My legal eagle, Franklin Peavy and my manager.
 
My producer.
 
My mentor.
 
And my dear friend…
Big Bill Herron.”
 
Eddie gestured for them to take a bow as the audience applauded.

Big Bill suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of
magnanimity.
 
He reached out to put an
arm around his partner, but Franklin
took two nervous steps sideways leaving Big Bill to stand there, facing the
audience, one arm awkwardly extended, all alone.
 
He looked half crucified.