JOHN MICHAEL MONTGOMERY BEGAN WITH “LIFE’S A DANCE,” SCORED SEVEN NO. 1 HITS, THEN ENDED 33 YEARS ON THE ROAD WITH ONE FINAL HOMETOWN SHOW—SURROUNDED BY HIS BROTHER, HIS SON, AND THE MUSIC THAT BUILT HIS LIFE. Before Nashville knew his name, John Michael Montgomery was already singing with his family. Raised in Kentucky, he performed as a child with his parents and later played in a band with his brother Eddie. Those local stages gave him the direct, conversational style that would later carry songs such as “Life’s a Dance,” “I Swear,” “I Love the Way You Love Me,” and “Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident).” His breakthrough came quickly. “Life’s a Dance” reached country radio in 1992, and the debut album bearing its name eventually went triple platinum. The next two albums sold even more heavily, placing Montgomery among the defining male voices of 1990s country. Across his career, seven of his singles reached No. 1 on the Billboard country charts. But the road that built the career kept taking its share. For years, Montgomery moved through the cycle familiar to major country acts of that era: buses, soundchecks, late nights, another town, then another stage. By the time he announced in January 2024 that he would wind down touring across 2024 and 2025, he had been living that routine for more than three decades. He did not announce an abrupt disappearance. He gave himself two years to say goodbye. The farewell run became known as the Road Home Tour. Each stop carried the knowledge that it might be the final time audiences in that city heard him sing those songs in person. Then he chose where the last night would happen. Not Nashville. Not Las Vegas. Rupp Arena in Lexington, Kentucky. The final concert took place on December 12, 2025. His brother Eddie Montgomery joined him. So did his son Walker Montgomery and his son-in-law Travis Denning, turning the last road show into a family gathering inside one of Kentucky’s largest rooms. For Montgomery, the meaning went beyond a final set list. He had begun performing as a child in Kentucky, entered the national country scene in 1992, and spent the next 30-plus years carrying those songs far beyond home. Now the people standing beside him at the finish represented both ends of that life: the brother who had shared the early years and the younger generation continuing after him. The show sold out. When it ended, Montgomery did not retire from music itself. He retired from the road—the buses, miles, and repeated goodbyes that had shaped nearly every year of his adult life. His final touring night closed with his family nearby and Kentucky in front of him. The next morning, for the first time since 1992, there was no next city waiting

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” JOHN MICHAEL MONTGOMERY STARTED SINGING IN KENTUCKY WITH…

DIAMOND RIO LANDED A RECORD DEAL—THEN THREE MEMBERS WERE HIT BY A CRUSHED THUMB, A BOAT PROPELLER AND A LARGE TUMOR. THEIR DEBUT SINGLE STILL WENT TO NO. 1. The group began in 1982 as the Grizzly River Boys, an attraction created around the park’s new rafting ride. They soon became the Tennessee River Boys, playing multiple daily shows for visitors who had come for roller coasters rather than Nashville’s next major band. The lineup changed repeatedly until Marty Roe, Jimmy Olander, Dan Truman, Dana Williams, Brian Prout and Gene Johnson came together in 1989. They recorded demos in Prout’s garage and searched for a label willing to sign a self-contained country band. Diamond Rio wanted to play its own instruments and sing its own harmonies on record, while Nashville often preferred established studio musicians. Arista executive Tim DuBois initially considered signing Roe alone. Producer Monty Powell convinced him to watch the entire group open for George Jones. After seeing the six musicians together, DuBois offered the band a contract. They renamed themselves Diamond Rio and prepared to record the album they had spent years trying to reach. Then the accidents began. On August 9, 1990, Gene Johnson severely cut his left thumb in a carpentry accident. Johnson played mandolin and supplied the high tenor central to the group’s harmony. The injury threatened both. Four weeks later, bassist Dana Williams was water-skiing when a boat propeller struck his legs and sent him to the hospital. Around the same time, guitarist Jimmy Olander discovered a lemon-sized tumor pressing against his esophagus. Doctors never established a clear diagnosis, and the growth eventually disappeared, but for a period the band did not know whether half its members could continue. The contract remained. The band capable of fulfilling it nearly did not. Johnson returned with reduced dexterity. Williams recovered from his injuries. Olander’s tumor receded. The six musicians regrouped and entered the studio, still determined to perform the parts themselves. Arista released “Meet in the Middle” on February 6, 1991. It reached No. 1 and stayed there for two weeks, making Diamond Rio the first country group to top the Billboard country chart with its debut single. The album also produced the Top 10 hits “Mirror, Mirror,” “Mama Don’t Forget to Pray for Me,” “Norma Jean Riley,” and “Nowhere Bound,” and was eventually certified platinum. Diamond Rio later recorded “How Your Love Makes Me Feel,” “One More Day,” “Beautiful Mess,” and “I Believe,” while earning repeated vocal-group honors. Its sound remained built around six identifiable musicians rather than anonymous studio replacements. That original lineup stayed together for more than three decades. Gene Johnson and Brian Prout retired from touring in 2022, ending one of the longest continuous lineups in modern country music. Opryland USA closed in 1997. The band created to entertain people waiting beside one of its rides was still on the road twenty-five years later.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” DIAMOND RIO FINALLY GOT A RECORD DEAL. THEN…

SHENANDOAH HAD ALREADY SCORED MULTIPLE NO. 1 HITS WHEN A FIGHT OVER ITS NAME COST MORE THAN $2 MILLION AND FORCED THE BAND INTO BANKRUPTCY. THEY KEPT THE NAME, CHANGED LABELS, AND FOUGHT THEIR WAY BACK TO NO. 1. Shenandoah began as a group of working musicians in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. Guitarist Jim Seales, drummer Mike McGuire, bassist Ralph Ezell, keyboardist Stan Thorn, and singer Marty Raybon had spent years in studios, local groups, and road bands before coming together in the mid-1980s. A demo reached Columbia Records, and when the label offered several possible names, Raybon chose Shenandoah. At first, the name seemed to bring them everything they had been chasing. “The Church on Cumberland Road,” “Sunday in the South,” and “Two Dozen Roses” all reached No. 1 in 1989. “Next to You, Next to Me” stayed at the top for three weeks in 1990, while “Ghost in This House” showed that the band could handle a quiet ballad as convincingly as a driving radio hit. In 1991, the Academy of Country Music named Shenandoah its top vocal group. But as the records climbed, another Shenandoah appeared. A Kentucky band claimed it had already been using the name and threatened legal action. The country group reached a financial settlement, only to face claims from two more bands using Shenandoah elsewhere. The lawsuits began consuming the money Shenandoah earned on the road. The band asked its record label and production company to share the legal burden. When that support did not fully materialize, the five musicians were left trying to defend a name that had become valuable only after they had made it famous. By early 1991, Shenandoah had spent more than $2 million on settlements and legal costs. The band filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy while still placing songs on country radio. They were eventually allowed to keep the name. But keeping it cost them nearly everything built underneath it. The bankruptcy helped end their relationship with Columbia after a greatest-hits release in 1992. Shenandoah moved to RCA, returned to the road, and began rebuilding without the financial cushion their biggest years should have created. The comeback was not immediate, but it was real. In 1993, “I Want to Be Loved Like That” reached the Top 5. The following year, “If Bubba Can Dance (I Can Too)” became another No. 1, proving that the lawsuits had damaged the business without destroying the sound. Shenandoah continued through lineup changes, Marty Raybon’s departure and eventual return, and the death of founding bassist Ralph Ezell. The songs remained in circulation long after the money from their first great run had been spent defending six letters on concert posters and album covers. Decades later, Luke Combs joined the band for a new recording of “Two Dozen Roses.” It was cut at FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals, near the place where Shenandoah’s musicians had first learned how to build records together, and reached No. 1 on the iTunes all-genre and country charts in 2023.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” SHENANDOAH HAD NO. 1 HITS, AWARDS, AND A…

CHET ATKINS HEARD A TEENAGER PLAYING ON THE RADIO, BROUGHT HIM TO NASHVILLE, AND PUT HIM IN HIS ROAD BAND. THAT TEENAGER WENT ON TO SCORE 14 NO. 1 HITS, WIN MULTIPLE GRAMMYS, AND BECOME ONE OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S MOST RESPECTED GUITARISTS. Steve Wariner grew up in Noblesville, Indiana, in a family where music was part of everyday life. He learned several instruments as a child, but the guitar quickly became the one he never put down. While still in high school, he was performing on local radio and television, building a reputation as a teenager who could play far beyond his years. One broadcast reached an unexpected listener. Chet Atkins. Already one of country music’s most respected guitarists and the executive guiding RCA Nashville, Atkins invited the 17-year-old to audition. By the end of the meeting, Wariner had been offered a job in Nashville. The move changed everything. Instead of chasing club gigs for years, Wariner found himself playing guitar in Atkins’ road band, watching recording sessions from inside RCA Studio B, and learning how Nashville worked from one of the architects of the city’s sound. Atkins became more than an employer. He became Wariner’s mentor. As the years passed, Atkins encouraged him to sing as well as play, believing the quiet Indiana guitarist could build a career of his own instead of remaining behind other artists. RCA eventually signed Wariner as a recording artist. Success arrived gradually before accelerating in the 1980s. Songs including “All Roads Lead to You,” “Some Fools Never Learn,” “Life’s Highway,” “Small Town Girl,” “The Weekend,” and “Lynda” helped establish him as one of country music’s most dependable hitmakers. During that run, he earned 14 No. 1 singles and became one of Nashville’s most respected guitarists as well as a major recording star. The relationship with Atkins never disappeared. The two men later recorded together, and Wariner remained one of the few musicians Chet openly praised for carrying forward his style of tasteful, melodic guitar playing. When Atkins died in 2001, Wariner did more than remember his mentor in interviews. He continued performing the music they had shared, speaking often about the lessons learned inside RCA Studio B and the patience Atkins had shown a teenager who arrived in Nashville with talent but little experience. Years later, Wariner won Grammy Awards, entered the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame, and built a career that stretched far beyond the opportunity first offered to him. But one instrument never left his side. Among the many guitars he has owned, the most meaningful have always been the ones that carried a reminder of the man who first looked beyond a teenage radio performance and decided it was worth bringing to Nashville.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” CHET ATKINS HEARD STEVE WARINER PLAYING ON THE…

CLAY WALKER WAS 26, HAD ALREADY SCORED SIX NO. 1 COUNTRY HITS, AND HAD JUST BECOME A FATHER. THEN DOCTORS TOLD HIM HE COULD BE IN A WHEELCHAIR WITHIN YEARS By 1996, Clay Walker’s career was moving almost too quickly to slow down. The Texas singer had broken through with “What’s It to You” and “Live Until I Die,” then followed them with records including “Dreaming with My Eyes Open,” “If I Could Make a Living,” and “This Woman and This Man.” His first albums had gone platinum, his touring schedule was full, and his first daughter had recently been born. Then his vision split in two. Walker began experiencing numbness, facial spasms, weakness, and trouble controlling one side of his body. He initially feared a tumor. MRI scans revealed lesions on his brain, brain stem, and spinal cord. In April 1996, he was diagnosed with relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis. He was 26. The prognosis was brutal. Walker later recalled being told that the number and location of the lesions could leave him in a wheelchair within a few years and might sharply shorten his life. At the time, he had only recently finished recording his fourth album. He began treatment, changed his diet, and kept working. The album Rumor Has It was released in 1997. Its title track became another No. 1 country hit, while “Watch This” and “Then What?” also reached the upper part of the chart. Most listeners heard the records without knowing what had been happening away from the stage. Walker continued touring through a disease known for its unpredictability. Some days brought weakness or problems with balance. Others allowed him to perform with the same energy audiences expected. Instead of building his public identity around the diagnosis, he tried to keep the illness from deciding when his career would end. In 2003, he founded Band Against MS to raise money for research and help other people living with the disease. Through benefit concerts, golf events, auctions, and other programs, the organization raised millions of dollars for MS-related causes. The diagnosis never disappeared. It remained behind every tour, recording session, medical scan, and physical setback. But the timeline doctors had described in 1996 did not arrive as predicted. Nearly three decades after the MRI revealed lesions across his central nervous system, Walker was still recording and walking onto country stages. The foundation created from that hospital diagnosis had also begun helping families whose names would never appear on a concert poster.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” CLAY WALKER HAD SIX NO. 1 HITS, A…

CHRIS LEDOUX HAD ALREADY WON A WORLD RODEO TITLE AND RELEASED 22 ALBUMS ON HIS OWN. NASHVILLE DID NOT NOTICE UNTIL GARTH BROOKS PUT HIS NAME INSIDE A HIT SONG. He began competing as a teenager and eventually became one of the best bareback riders in the country. In 1976, after years of injuries, entry fees, overnight drives, and eight-second rides, LeDoux won the world bareback championship at the National Finals Rodeo. Music had started as a way to document that life. LeDoux wrote about the men, horses, highway miles, broken bones, cheap motel rooms, and small rodeo arenas he knew firsthand. He was not trying to create a cowboy image. He was singing about the job he went back to after the show. Nashville showed little interest. So LeDoux and his father created their own record company. He recorded the songs independently, carried the albums to rodeos, and built an audience one cowboy at a time. By 1989, he had released 22 independent albums, and the small family operation had generated millions of dollars without major-label support or regular country-radio play. Then an unknown Oklahoma singer recorded a song called “Much Too Young (To Feel This Damn Old).” Near the end of the first verse, Garth Brooks sang about a worn-out rodeo man whose tape of Chris LeDoux had replaced the younger music he once played. The name lasted only seconds. But when the song became Brooks’ first country hit in 1989, listeners began asking who Chris LeDoux was. Nashville suddenly discovered that the cowboy mentioned in the lyric already had a large catalog and a loyal audience waiting beyond Music Row. Liberty Records signed him and brought his earlier recordings into its catalog. His first major-label album, Western Underground, arrived in 1991. A year later, LeDoux and Brooks recorded “Whatcha Gonna Do with a Cowboy,” which reached the country Top 10. LeDoux never fully reshaped himself for Nashville. His concerts kept the speed and danger of rodeo in them. He ran across stages, rode mechanical bulls, and sang about cowboys without treating them as costumes. The radio success remained modest compared with Brooks’, but his touring audience grew because the people in those rooms believed the man singing the songs. In 2000, LeDoux underwent a liver transplant after developing a serious liver disease. He returned to performing, but was later diagnosed with cancer of the bile duct. He died in Casper, Wyoming, on March 9, 2005, at 56. Four months later, the ProRodeo Hall of Fame inducted him not as a country singer borrowing the West, but as the world champion bareback rider he had been before Nashville learned his name.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” CHRIS LEDOUX HAD ALREADY WON A WORLD RODEO…

FARON YOUNG HAD SUNG “LIVE FAST, LOVE HARD, DIE YOUNG.” THEN ONE NIGHT, HE FIRED A GUN INTO HIS OWN KITCHEN CEILING AND HIS MARRIAGE BEGAN TO COME APART. Hilda Macon had been there before the legend got old. Faron met her while he was stationed at Fort McPherson in the early 1950s. She was the daughter of an Army master sergeant and came from country-music blood herself, with Uncle Dave Macon in the family line. They married in 1954, after Faron left the Army. Then came the children, the road, the records, and the years when Faron Young was one of the loudest men in Nashville. He was the “Young Sheriff.” He had No. 1 records. “Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young.” “Hello Walls.” “It’s Four in the Morning.” He helped build Music City News, backed writers, made stars laugh, made enemies mad, and filled rooms with the kind of personality that did not know how to stay small. But the house got the other part of him. By the 1980s, the drinking had become harder to manage. The hits were not coming the same way. On December 4, 1984, inside their Harbor Island home, Faron fired a pistol into the kitchen ceiling. Hilda wanted him to get help for his drinking. He refused. The marriage split after that. They separated, sold the house, and bought separate homes. At the divorce trial, when Faron was asked if he feared hurting someone by shooting holes into the ceiling, he answered, “Not whatsoever.” In 1987, after more than three decades together, the marriage was over. The public had known Faron Young as the man who could make honky-tonk sound cocky, bright, and dangerous. Hilda had heard the gun go off in the kitchen.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” FARON YOUNG MADE “LIVE FAST, LOVE HARD, DIE…

BLACKHAWK WAS BUILT AROUND THREE VOICES. THEN CANCER TOOK ONE OF THEM — AND HIS LAST REQUEST WAS NOT TO LET THE BAND DIE WITH HIM. Before BlackHawk became one of the most recognizable harmony groups of 1990s country, its three members had already lived separate musical lives. Henry Paul had come out of the Southern rock band the Outlaws. Dave Robbins and Van Stephenson had spent years writing songs in Nashville, including material connected to Restless Heart. Stephenson had even made his own run at pop success, reaching the Top 30 in 1984 with “Modern Day Delilah.” By the early 1990s, Paul, Robbins, and Stephenson began writing and recording demos together. What separated them was not one dominant voice. It was the way all three voices locked together—Henry in front, Dave underneath, and Van carrying the high tenor that made the choruses sound larger than the three men standing at the microphones. Arista Nashville signed them in 1993. Their first single, “Goodbye Says It All,” reached the country Top 20. “Every Once in a While,” “I Sure Can Smell the Rain,” “That’s Just About Right,” and “There You Have It” followed. Their self-titled debut album eventually went double platinum. For several years, BlackHawk looked like one of the strongest new bands Nashville had built. Then, in early 1999, Van Stephenson was diagnosed with melanoma. He underwent treatment and surgery while the band’s future became increasingly uncertain. By February 2000, Stephenson stepped away from BlackHawk so he could continue fighting the disease and spend more time with his wife and three children. The loss was not simply a vacant position onstage. Van’s tenor had been part of the architecture of every BlackHawk harmony. Henry Paul and Dave Robbins could hire another musician, but they could not recreate the years of writing, recording, and learning how three particular voices breathed together. Stephenson understood that. He also understood what his absence might do to the two men left behind. Before his death, he asked Paul and Robbins to continue. His message was simple: there was still more music left in BlackHawk. Van Stephenson died at his Nashville home on April 8, 2001. He was 47. BlackHawk’s Greatest Hits album was dedicated to him and included “Ships of Heaven,” a final song connected to the man whose high harmony had helped define the band. Paul and Robbins then carried BlackHawk forward, not by pretending nothing had changed, but by accepting that it had changed permanently. They also established the Van Stephenson Memorial Cancer Research Fund, directing money toward cancer research at Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center. Over the years, the band and its fans raised nearly a quarter of a million dollars in his name. BlackHawk continued touring. New voices entered the lineup. Henry Paul and Dave Robbins kept singing the old songs. But whenever those original recordings reach the chorus, Van Stephenson is still there—in the highest part of the harmony, holding a place no replacement was ever truly asked to erase.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” BLACKHAWK WAS BUILT AROUND THREE VOICES. THEN CANCER…

CRAIG MORGAN WROTE A SONG ABOUT HIS DEAD SON AND DID NOT PLAN TO RELEASE IT. THEN RICKY SKAGGS HEARD IT AT THE OPRY AND TOLD HIM THE WORLD NEEDED TO HEAR IT. Jerry Greer was nineteen when the lake took him. On July 10, 2016, Craig Morgan’s son was tubing with friends on Kentucky Lake in Tennessee when the accident happened. He was wearing a life jacket. Search crews found his body the next day. Craig and his wife, Karen, buried their son on their Tennessee property near the family chapel. For three years, Craig carried it mostly inside the house. He had been a soldier before country music. He had sung “Almost Home,” “That’s What I Love About Sunday,” and “International Harvester.” His songs had always sounded like faith, work, family, and the kind of people who keep going because stopping is not an option. But losing Jerry was not a song he was trying to sell. Then “The Father, My Son, and the Holy Ghost” came out of him. Craig wrote it and sang it at the Grand Ole Opry. He thought it might stay there — one night, one room, one way to say something he could not say any other way. Ricky Skaggs heard it differently. He told Craig people needed to hear the song. So Craig recorded it. In 2019, the song was released without a big radio machine behind it. Then Blake Shelton heard it and started pushing people to buy it. Others followed. The song went to No. 1 on the iTunes all-genre chart. Craig Morgan did not turn Jerry into a single. He carried a song out of the Opry because another country singer told him not to leave it there.

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.” CRAIG MORGAN WROTE A SONG HE DID NOT…

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MARTY STUART WAS 13 WHEN HE GOT OFF A GREYHOUND BUS IN NASHVILLE. THE NEXT DAY HE CLIMBED ON LESTER FLATT’S TOUR BUS. BY THE END OF THE WEEKEND, HE HAD A JOB PLAYING WITH A COUNTRY MUSIC LEGEND. On August 3, 1972, Marty Stuart stepped off a bus in downtown Nashville from Mississippi. He was thirteen years old. Stuart had already learned guitar and mandolin and played with the Sullivan Family, but Nashville was still something he knew mostly from records and Grand Ole Opry broadcasts. Early that morning, he walked to the Ryman Auditorium before the city had fully come alive. Bluegrass musician Roland White soon picked him up in a 1965 Chevrolet Impala. The next day, White took Stuart to Lester Flatt’s tour bus in Hendersonville. They headed to a bluegrass festival in Delaware, where the teenager was given a chance to play with Flatt’s band. Flatt heard enough. By the end of the weekend, he wanted Stuart in the Nashville Grass permanently. After arrangements were made with his parents, Stuart joined the road at an age when most musicians were still learning songs in bedrooms and school gyms. A week later, he made his first appearance on the Grand Ole Opry. Stuart stayed with Flatt through most of the 1970s. The education happened night after night: long bus rides, festival stages, dressing rooms, radio appearances and hours beside musicians who had helped build bluegrass and country before he was born. When Flatt’s health declined and the band ended, Stuart moved on. He worked with Doc Watson and other musicians, then joined Johnny Cash’s band in 1980. Only later did he build a solo career of his own. “Crying, Waiting, Hoping,” “Hillbilly Rock,” “Tempted,” and his recordings with Travis Tritt helped turn Stuart from respected sideman into a country star. In 1992, he became a member of the Grand Ole Opry. In 2020, he was elected to the Country Music Hall of Fame. But those early years with Flatt left another mark. Stuart began saving the instruments, photographs, stage clothes and personal objects that passed through the country world around him. What started as a young musician holding onto pieces of his heroes eventually grew into one of the most important private collections of country-music history. The road job Lester Flatt gave him taught Stuart how to play the music. It also taught him how quickly the people and objects that made it could disappear.

JOE DIFFIE HAD BEEN OFF THE CENTER OF COUNTRY RADIO FOR YEARS. THEN JASON ALDEAN RELEASED A SONG THAT HAD AN ENTIRE NEW GENERATION CHANTING HIS NAME. In 1994, Joe Diffie was near the height of his career. “Third Rock from the Sun” reached No. 1. Then “Pickup Man” followed and stayed there four weeks. Jason Aldean was still a high-school junior in Georgia, listening to Diffie and playing songs from that era before his own career existed. Aldean later remembered attending a Macon festival where roughly 5,000 people gathered for Diffie while only a few hundred watched a young Kenny Chesney on another stage. Almost two decades passed. By 2012, Aldean had become one of country music’s biggest stars. Songwriters Thomas Rhett, Luke Laird and Barry Dean were working on another song when the session changed direction. They built a track around 1990s nostalgia, filling it with references to Diffie records including “Pickup Man,” “John Deere Green,” “Third Rock from the Sun” and “Honky Tonk Attitude.” They called it “1994.” Aldean heard the demo while songs were being pitched for him and asked to hear it again. Soon afterward, he recorded it for Night Train. It became the album’s third single in March 2013. Diffie had nothing to do with making the record. Then he heard what they had done. His name had become the chant at the center of the song. Diffie said he was initially stunned, then realized what it meant: thousands of younger Aldean fans would suddenly be shouting the name of a singer whose biggest records had been released when many of them were children—or not yet born. The effect followed him off the radio. Diffie later said younger people began showing up at his concerts wanting to find out who the man from “1994” actually was. What surprised him even more was that many had gone backward into his catalog and learned the older songs. He called the attention a “shot in the arm.” Aldean had grown up playing Joe Diffie songs in Georgia clubs. Years later, some of Aldean’s own fans discovered those same records by moving in the opposite direction—starting with Jason Aldean and working their way back to Joe.

LITTLE JIMMY DICKENS STOOD 4’11”. TRACE ADKINS STOOD 6’6″. SO WHEN DICKENS CAME OUT TO INVITE HIM INTO THE GRAND OLE OPRY, HE BROUGHT A STEPLADDER. By 2003, Trace Adkins was no longer the unknown Louisiana singer who had arrived in Nashville a decade earlier. He had built a run of country hits, and the Grand Ole Opry had been part of that journey since his debut there on November 23, 1996. Then came June 14, 2003. Adkins had finished his set at the Opry and was preparing to leave the stage when Little Jimmy Dickens appeared in a bright blue Nudie suit. He was carrying a stepladder. Dickens was only 4’11”. Adkins towered over him at 6’6″. So Dickens set down the ladder, climbed the steps until the two men were nearly eye-to-eye, and asked Adkins how badly he wanted to become part of the Grand Ole Opry family. The joke landed immediately. But the invitation underneath it was real. Adkins accepted, and when the time came for his formal induction, he was allowed to choose the Opry member he wanted to welcome him into the family. He chose Ronnie Milsap, one of his musical heroes. On August 23, 2003, Milsap officially inducted Trace Adkins into the Grand Ole Opry. Twenty years later, Adkins returned to the same stage to celebrate the anniversary. This time the significance had moved beyond the joke that began it. He said Opry membership had affected the way he conducted himself because he felt responsible for representing the institution. And the tradition kept moving forward. In 2018, Adkins walked onto that stage unexpectedly during Dustin Lynch’s set and asked another country singer to join the Opry family. Little Jimmy Dickens had once come out to get Trace Adkins. Fifteen years later, Trace was the man being sent out to get the next one