‘Bout every Saturday people gather from miles around at the Bible Grove opry house to hear local musicians pick and sing. Not much else to do on a Saturday night in this part of Illinois. Besides, it’s free.
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This opry’s been held in an old town meeting hall for 20 years. It’s come a long way in the 10 years since the Barbee brothers, Jim and Bud (Bud’s the one with the hat), bought the place. Got indoor plumbing in ’83. Last summer they held a fund-raiser, threw in the money from the donation can on the refreshment counter, and hired a carpenter to add on to the stage using boards from a torn-down house and Jim’s old barn. Jean Birch, Jim’s songwriting partner, painted some of the roosters, chickens, cows, and sheep on the walls. The opry now can seat “’bout 200 if you cram ’em,” according to Jim.
You walk in the door and people turn around to see if they know you. The stares soon wear off and the music starts. Nobody uses sheet music. Jim and Bud call out which of the dozen or so musicians will lead the next song. The leader rarely says what he or she wants to play. Three magic words like “key of G” are all the group needs to follow along.
I lived in this part of Illinois for about five years, and since coming back I can’t go to the symphony anymore without remembering the opry musicians sitting on those padded vinyl kitchen chairs playing and singing and being themselves. At Orchestra Hall I wait for the conductor to turn up the lights at intermission and ask the audience, “Where y’all from?” but it never happens.
