Nashville 1980 (Part II)

From 1972 through 1997, Nashville had a theme park called "Opryland USA." The place featured the usual rides--roller coaster, Ferris wheel and such--and lots and lots of music, and in my early days in Nashville I thought I'd audition to be one of the Opryland performers. I don't remember now how I learned about the auditions, probably a flyer on a bulletin board at Belmont, but I signed up and was given a time on Saturday, 26 January 1980. This would be my first Nashville performance, and I was excited about it. My only previous trip to Nashville before moving there had been a visit to Opryland with the Walnut community youth group. I remember being impressed by the fact that we couldn't get motel rooms any closer to the place than Cookeville, Tennessee, and I remember thinking that the music--although not really my style--was impressive.

Here's a bit from my journal entry from the morning of my audition:

It's Saturday and the morning of my Opryland audition. I'm up no trying to get my voice loosened. I probably won't go over there till about noon. I know there are prayers at home about this and I have turned everything over to the will of God. I'm gonna do my best with all of the talents He gave me and the decision is up to Him.

I don't remember what I sang, but I know it was a song by Larry Gatlin. Here's a bit from my journal entry later that same day:

Well, I suffered my first letdown in the "big city" today . . . one of the biggest letdowns of my life. Obviously, I didn't make Opryland. I did my best, not that I don't think I was good enough. I just think they pretty well had all they wanted and didn't need any more of my style. It was kind of funny though . . . I was getting into it as usual and I hear this small voice "Michael" and I suddenly realized they were through listening. I said OK. [. . .] I don't mind saying I was crushed and hardly knew what to do. I just felt like God had turned his back and walked off on me. I forgot who I was and thought and did some things I shouldn't have. Then I finally realized there is something better down the road for me. Not having that job will give me more time this summer, I only pray the Lord will let me have a regular park job.

Strange that I can't remember what I sang, but I remember standing there after my curtain had fallen, so to speak, and watching the next audition. The performer was a little fellow the judges all seemed to know--maybe he'd been a performer the previous year. He did a little softshoe dance and sang an a capella version of Louis Armstrong's "Lucky Old Sun." The judges loved it. (This is probably the point where I "thought and did some things I shouldn't have," but I can't remember what those were.) It was, I realize now, American Idol, and I wasn't a performer.

Looking back at those days of being 21 from my current perspective at 49, this experience was a harbinger of things to come throughout the next dozen or so years I would be involved with Nashville and trying to make it in the music business.

God did, it seems, see fit to give me a job in the park, which I fairly quickly walked out on with a "No thanks." I was hired to work on the Flume Zoom, the park's main (possibly only) water ride. I wore my hair short and sported a moustache, and more than one smartass passing my station pointed and said, "Hey, it's Burt Reynolds!"

Not long after the park opened for the season--mid March, I think--came a cold and rainy Sunday. I seem to recall hearing that we had about 18 visitors in the entire park. Without any rain gear, I was soon wet and chilled to the bone, watching the empty logs pass my station. I thought that surely the park would close early. But no. We stayed the entire day, and I don't ever remember being so cold. When I got in my car for the drive back to 17th Avenue, I think I knew that I would not be going back to that job, God-given or not. As I sat in the dark and the rain at a traffic light, corner of Wedgewood and 17th, I was so distracted by the chill and depression that when the light turned green I almost hit a runner who crossed the intersection late. It was Willie Nelson. And, for awhile, I was excited about Nashville again.