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Fairchild’ s Opry House is celebrating 25 years of music, memories and mountain culture. With two gold records proudly hanging on the wall, Fairchild’ s resume is as long as the road out of town.
It includes his revered appearances at the Grand Ole Opry, induction into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame, five-time recipient of the“ Banjo of the Year” award from the Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music in America, not to mention his music( the renowned“ Whoa Mule”) and image featured in numerous documentaries, articles, television and radio programs.
“ Twenty-five years means I’ m 25 years older. I ain’ t got rich, but I could have done things and ended up a lot worse,” he chuckled.
At his peak of popularity and touring, Fairchild was on the road doing upwards of 200 shows a year. With him away on business, his wife Shirley decided to open the Opry House, which would serve as a place to not only celebrate but also preserve the traditional music all too
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“ easily lost in the mix of modernity and mainstream radio. She wanted to open a place for nothing but mountain music,” he said.“ If you want to live to be old, don’ t walk through that door with an electric instrument. You’ re dead on the spot. She loves mountain music that much, all acoustic. That was our goal, and that’ s the way it’ s going to stay.”
Fairchild sits like an old tree with a few branches missing in his musty armchair, carefully positioned in the corner of a small pavilion covering the front entrance of the Opry House. Rising inch-by-inch like an unpeeled Band-Aid, he walks inside slowly, almost as if to not pull his roots out from under him if he were to move too fast. His fingers are filled with enough grit to sand down the toughest of questions posed. A watchful glare shoots out from his eyes, letting visitors know that though he may not say much, all it takes is a certain glance to get a point across.“ Mountain music is what this country was founded on. That’ s the only pleasure theyreally had back then,”
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he said.“ Most of them had to make their own instruments. That was their entertainment. And then Bill Monroe came along and put it in overdrive.”
It’ s a Saturday night and like clockwork Fairchild readies himself backstage.
While Fairchild glides through his storied catalog of melodies, Shirley holds down the fort in back of the room, selling popcorn, soda and moonshine jelly( although there is a strict“ No Alcohol” policy). The smell of the popcorn wafts through the venue like the notes spilling off the stage from the banjo. The crowd is sparse for a weekend, even more so for the summer, which is tourist season in the mountains.
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