What is mistaken as a honky-tonk only serves soda and keeps its groove due to community
Story and photos by Sage Russell
Fourteen years ago Randy Armstrong was dragged to the County Opry by his mother. He knew that if he didn’t go, his mom, Patricia, wouldn’t either, and so he made the short drive up from Alliance and parked in the grassy lot outside the warmly lit red building.
Armstrong, 45 at the time, had recently moved back to Pamlico County from Tennessee. He grew up in the county, but left once he joined the military and spent time living in West Virginia, Kansas and eventually “the Volunteer State.” However, just 18 months earlier, his wife Kathy had died, motivating him to return to where he grew up.
That night in the Opry, while questioning why he had come and feeling less than thrilled about the older company surrounding him, Armstrong found himself gently surprised.
“I'm sitting there with her (Patricia), minding my own business, and (Irma) tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to dance,” he said. “And, life changing. I realized I was alive still.”
Suddenly Armstrong had a much stronger motivation to visit the following week.
“That 45, widowed, you know, single dad. I was ready to come back the next Saturday night, and we started dating, and three years later, we got married right out here,” he said.
Today, Armstrong is an ordained minister and he and his wife, Irma, are one of the many regulars you’ll find at the County Opry.
Standing tall, usually in a buttoned down or polo shirt, Armstrong’s main feature is his cheerful disposition, often wearing a smile that curls underneath his mustache.
The pair are among those who keep the County Opry going, and to do so takes a lot of effort. With the cost at the door being a mere $10 for the Saturday night dance, there is a committed army that works to ensure the lights stay on.
And although the Saturday night dances are what’s advertised on the sign along Highway 55, there’s a whole weekend of events at the Opry.
Friday: Learning each line
The County Opry was formed in 2006 by Ed and Beverly Terry down in Alliance, but moved to its current location in Grantsboro in 2008.
Growing up in Pamlico, Ed, 77, remembers frequently visiting the Pick and Bow, which became his inspiration for the Opry. “It was just a community thing,” he said. “And all of the farmers and people would come there on Saturday night, and we'd bring our instruments and play.”
The Opry’s building originated as a bar in the 1970s, before becoming a church and eventually was bought by the Terrys. Today, it provides the same kind of space that the Pick and Bow used to offer when Ed was growing up.
“People need it,” he said. “I guarantee there's somebody in Pamlico County sitting at home tonight going, I wish there was something we could do.”
Across the 18 years that the Opry has been open, it continues to evolve. In 2018 line dance classes were added every Friday, except the third of the month, based on what Armstrong calls an accident.
On Saturday nights, Armstrong and others did a few line dances, but he noticed his friend’s wife, Mary Baker, would watch the fun from the sidelines.
He prompted Mary to join, but she said she didn’t want to learn on a Saturday night, while others were watching. So, Armstrong made a suggestion: “I said, well, what if I open the doors on a Friday night?” She agreed, but quickly, that offer grew.
“Word got out that there was a class when there wasn't a class,” Armstrong said. “I knew three line dances, and all of a sudden people come into the line dance class, and I'm like, ‘What's going on here?’ I had to learn all of these line dances to teach them. It was an accident. It was just meant to be.”
Stepping into the Opry on a recent Friday, you’re greeted in the corridor by framed pictures of community members and singers. Turning left to enter the main hall, the room opens up to reveal tables blanketed in colorful plastic covers, an open wood floor for dancing and a stage full of microphones and instruments with a large American flag serving as its backdrop.
In the middle of the floor stands Samantha Garcia, 34, a student of Armstrong’s who is teaching the line dancing class for the first time. With her, six others have come to learn and practice, running through a continuous set of songs and dances.
Garcia, whose eyes stare down into her swinging cowboy boots while remembering each step, shares Armstrong’s experience of being roped into attending the Opry by her mother, Sandra Dail, two years ago. Dail was attending the classes with her boyfriend at the time, and after three months of prodding, Garcia hesitantly agreed to join them.
“Randy said, give me two months, and you will be dancing, I promise you,” Garcia said. So she stuck with it, showing up consistently, and now leading class.
“When you slow it down, it's much harder than just jumping in and doing it, and especially if you already know it,” Garcia said. “But being able to talk and tell each step and dance it with everybody, it's challenging. But it's really cool to be on that side and see it because now I understand.”
This class coincided with setup for the Opry’s 6th Annual Fall Bazaar, a fundraiser for the building, and half of those in attendance were shifting tables and organizing for the next morning. But class continued with volunteers stepping in to pause and play music for the dancers.
“I love it,” Garcia said. “It's something that everybody can jump in on, so I feel like that's something that you don't always get, and we welcome our arms to anybody and everybody.”
“We're like family,” she said.
Saturday: Dancing cheek to cheek
Twenty-four hours later, the Opry has received a makeover. The fluorescent lighting is replaced with yellow string lights running along the top walls, the County Opry Band’s live music radiates from the speakers and couples gather on the dance floor, hitting their best dance moves or slowing down for a romantic ballad.
On either side of the dance floor, mirrors on the walls reflect the dancers alongside Elvis memorabilia and patriotic symbols.
Out on the floor, Diane Willis, 75, dances with Boogie Jones, 79. “We’re kind of a couple,” Diane explained. Willis, from Craven County, was introduced to the Opry six years ago by a friend. She had a knack for dancing when she was a teenager and would dance with her younger brother, but quit because her late husband didn’t dance.
Willis used to bake and decorate cakes at Harris Teeter, skills she lent earlier in the day to the Fall Bazaar’s bake sale. “Most of them (nights), I'm working. So Saturday night, I told them when they hired me, I said, ‘Saturday night's mine.’”
Stories like Willis’ are not uncommon in this crowd, with widows finding partners and friends greeting friends. Couples are not afraid to get close and move in tempo to songs such as “I Can’t Stop Loving You” by Ray Charles and other hits from the era.
When not cutting a rug, people wade back to their seats and hands manage to be held and arms find their way to their partner’s chair back.
On stage with the County Opry Band sits Joe Himbry, 67, a navy veteran, with his guitar in hand. A member of the band for 14 years, he and his wife Pamela, 63, are dedicated to the Opry.
“I tell everybody, it's like home,” Pamela said. “You can bring your kids; you can bring your mom. You don't have to worry about people fighting or drinking alcohol. It's a fun family place.”
Both Joe and Pamela grew up in North Carolina about 25 miles apart in Dover and Fort Barnwell. Just before Joe entered the navy the two met in 1976. “We was youngins.” Joe said, with Pamela adding, “Yeah, we was troopers. We done got old. So we grew up together, we raised each other.”
The pair explained that the Opry sometimes is misunderstood as a “honky-tonk,” a rowdy bar with alcohol, but in actuality, the space doesn’t even serve liquor.
“We don't sell beer and alcohol here. You come here and you socialize, you dance, you know,” Joe said. “As you've probably heard other people say, the band starts off in the prayer circle before we get on the stage. We mean it. We take it very serious.”
The Himbrys and others explained that the Opry is a multifaceted space, hosting funerals, weddings, birthdays and all kinds of events under the Terrys.
“I like to say, because of this place, you ain't gotta have blood to be family,” Joe said.
Sunday: Congregational coffee
On the first and third Sundays of the month, the Opry has one more offering. For about six years, the Opry has opened its doors at 11 a.m. with Armstrong and Ed Terry leading the congregation in prayer, song and scripture, providing a place to worship for those who call the building home.
“The church just became part of it,” Ed said. “Because somebody asked me one time, (they) said, ‘Well, can we do church?’ And I said, ‘Yeah, I want to do church.’”
The two ministers preach differently, with Armstrong taking a more animated approach, while Terry is more laid back. The parish members remain engaged, nibbling on breakfast and sipping coffee whose scent fills the air. Throughout the service, noise from the new children’s church occasionally breaks through from the back room.
One of the attendees is Richard Curtiss Lombard Jr., 68, who like many others was brought to the Opry by a parent, in his case, his father. A member for less than a year, Lombard Jr. carries a Bible with him that he got in Connecticut, full of songs that he often shares with the group.
“I pick a song in the Bible and they say, ‘Which one do you want to sing? You've got a bunch of them.’ So I pick one; either Joe will play or Tex will play.”
Like everything at the Opry, the church’s focus is on community, and Ed keeps that in mind. “It's something that I think churches have gotten away from, and preached to the people and not with the people,” he said.
In addition to the services, the Opry also puts together donations for different parts of Pamlico County, including the Noah Sadler Nursing Home Christmas Drive, named after Armstrong’s nephew who died at age 15. For the fifth year, the Opry has put together donations for Grantsbrook Rehabilitation & Nursing Center and The Gardens of Pamlico nursing homes, where they also line dance.
In the back of the Opry, next to a stuffed deer head on the wall, is a tribute of pictures tacked to a cork board. On it are members of the Opry who have died, their memories kept alive by the Terrys and all of those who call the Opry home.
“One day, our picture will be up there,” Ed said. “And we've got the place set up, so it'll keep going. When we're gone, it'll keep going as long as somebody wants it to.”
