My favorite touch, and Chuck’s pride, is the twin corn stoves that heat the theater. The stoves operate in the same fashion as my wood pellet stove, but they use dried corn kernels as fuel.
How, I asked Chuck, did he succeed in Watseka?
“There isn’t a seat more than 40 feet from the stage,” Chuck said. “Watseka is one of the short and wide theaters.”
Where else can you see Crystal Gayle in such an intimate setting? If you see her at the Opry, chances are she’s just a speck on a faraway stage. People from six surrounding states patronize the 400-seat theater precisely for this intimacy.
“Literally every band stands in the lobby, and shakes hands with every member of the audience that wants to do it,” Chuck told me.
Southern rock is big at the Watseka Theatre. Doesn’t surprise me. My cousins love pickup trucks and Corvettes. In my youth, music was always about driving around in a car or a pickup truck, tuning in the AM radio and signing along.
There is something to do, now, in my hometown. At least ten local musicians have been signed to national contracts because the Watseka Theatre gave them a stage to get started. Future generations of kids will aspire to become country musicians because of Chuck’s vision and cheerful persistence.
Nowadays, when I think of Watseka, instead of remembering the days of rebellion and anger, I remember how great it was to grow up in the nexus of Chicago and Nashville. AM radio waves travel endlessly out there on the plains. I listened to the Grand Old Opry out of Nashville and the King Biscuit Hour out of Chicago. I am grateful for having been born half way between the great capitals of country and blues.
People are the same everywhere. Try challenging the PC leftist orthodoxy of Woodstock. I have, right in this paper. I received hate mail for weeks afterward, suggesting that I should get out of town, now. Nobody’s thrown a brick, yet.
I reconciled with friends and family back home long ago. The political stuff just doesn’t seem important any more. Who cares? What is important is having a good time together when we can be together. Watsekans and Woodstockers have exactly the same idea about what having a good time means. It means being with the people you love, enjoying your favorite intoxicants, listening to music, laughing and dancing.
I’ll be home soon, and I’ll be heading directly for the Watseka Theatre. Might catch Johnny Winter in September. In my dreams, I have imagined taking with me the truly brilliant musicians I have known and played with in Woodstock. My two home towns should get to know one another. We are very much alike.
