He sits when he sings now, and his hands take a little longer to position the capo on the neck of his old guitar. But he sings, it's still Charlie. There are few other sounds in the world that are quite as splendid.

Charlie Waller's earliest musical memories are of the jam sessions at his Aunt Lessie's Louisiana home.

"I remember the first time I heard 'Salty Dog Blues'... boy, they'd play that guitar and make that A-run. Just to hear that gave me chills." Charlie sings a slow, bluesy version of the chorus. "Bum, bum, bum... Why won't you let me be your salty dog... or I won't be your man at all..."

The only boy in his family (Bessie Barrett Waller had another son who died at birth), Charlie was the adored brother of four older sisters. "When I was a teen, my sisters were into Sinatra and Perry Como," he remembers. "I didn't appreciate that as much as I do now. My sisters always wanted to take me to the movies to hear them croon - and I'd sink down in my seat." Then Charlie saw a film which starred a young Arizona cowboy. "I heard Rex Allen singing 'Crying In The Chapel', and I said, 'That's my range!'"

His parents separated when he was a toddler, and Charlie and his mother went to Washington, DC when he was about nine. He got his earliest gig when he was just 13, playing with a friend in a DC bar. "I wasn't even supposed to be IN the bar!" he remembers. Several years later, Charlie discovered a place called the Pine Tavern. "We used to go down there and listen to Pete Pike and Buzz Busby. They always called me up to sing. Then Buzz told me he wanted to hire me if I was free. I said, 'Well, I can be free any time I want to. What kind of deal are we talking about?'"

At 22, Charlie found himself back in Louisiana - this time, with Buzz Busby on the Louisiana Hayride, second only to the Grand Ole Opry in national popularity. He rubbed shoulders with the likes of George Jones, Johnny Horton, and a kid named Elvis Presley, who played guitar to Charlie's banjo a few times.

After Buzz Busby was injured in a 1957 auto accident, banjo player Bill Emerson formed a replacement band with Charlie, bassist Tom Morgan, banjo player Bill Emerson and an acerbic mandolin player with a powerhouse tenor named John Duffey. For the first two years of its existence, the band went through numerous personnel changes. But when bassist Tom Gray and banjo player Eddie Adcock joined the band in 1959, a magical combination was created that continues to electrify and inspire listeners even today.

Eddie Adcock tries to explain the uncannily beautiful blend of harmonies among three men who shared no blood relation. "John and Charlie and I had a natural trio sound that we didn't have to do a lot of work on, although you could say we did, since we recorded so many albums! But it was all natural from the start. Even before we would learn the words to a song, it was sounding good."

Waller's powerful lead vocals were a tremendous asset to the group, Adcock adds. "If anybody was sick, we didn't really have to worry about it - if Charlie wasn't sick. Charlie could just sing a lead song, without a trio, and get us through a night."

"I'm not much of a singer, but I always appreciated Charlie," comments Tom Gray. "He knew how to get such good tone out of his voice, and still does. He's blessed with a wonderful set of pipes. He seems to have different tones that he brings out at different times. I often wondered how conscious he is [of that]."

Jimmy Gaudreau, who joined the band when Duffey departed in 1969, believes that Waller could have achieved major stardom. "If he had wanted success, I think it was there for him in the early days, because his voice leaned so much to classic traditional country," says "He chose to do bluegrass. Maybe if he came along thirty years later, he might have enjoyed the success of, say, Alison Krauss. But timing was wrong. The market got better, and unfortunately we all got older!"

"His voice is totally different from anybody in bluegrass," comments Adcock. "In the old days, all the lead singers were high singers, for the most part. Charlie had a powerful amount of resonance in his voice, and clarity. Hank Snow influenced his vocals, and I think Mac Wiseman influenced his vocals... but at the same time, he didn't sound like either one. He can sing like Hank, and he can sing like Mac, but he sings 'em in a Charlie Waller voice."

"He's a very distinct baritone," notes Gaudreau. "He has a relaxing resonance to his voice that just lures you in. He had a lot of influences on his vocal style, and then he added his own personal touches and came up with a winning combination that suited his voice and appealed to a lot of listeners."

Does he do anything special to take care of his voice? "No, but I probably should! I've just been blessed." He does add, emphatically, that vocalists should be diligent about avoiding strain. "You need to sing in your range. When you stretch the high notes too high, you hurt your voice. Don't sing the damn song too high!"

Early in his career, Charlie let himself be persuaded into singing out of his range. "John Duffey tried to get me to do that. Some of the old stuff was too high for me. And there's been a couple of songs, through the years, that Bill Monroe always asked me to sing, [like] 'Can't You Hear Me Calling'. In my better days, that song was too high for me in G! I could reach it, but you could tell the strain. And to me, straining is not pretty. A lot of people can get away with singing high - Bobby Osborne's one of them. He's one of the high singers that I like. But so many days on the road singing 'Tennessee Hound Dog' takes a toll on his throat."

Charlie's daughter Mina drags him to a concession stand, where the only merchandise is a fancy hanging chair made of canvas, wood, and nylon rope. She gently places her father into it, pulls his legs up into the hanging footrest, and arranges his elbows on the armrests. "I need one for my dorm room!" she begs. Charlie rocks in the chair and patiently listens to the abbreviated sales pitch. When it's done, Charlie tells his exuberant daughter, in a firm but gentle voice, "Now, you can't tell if a chair's comfortable till you've sat in it at least an hour." He is the parent of an 18-year-old, but he has the wisdom of a man who has seen a lot in his time. Mina Waller should listen well.

Charlie Waller's earliest hobbies have followed him well into adulthood. As Eddie Adcock recalls, "He liked to shoot his bow and shoot his guns, go out in the boat up and down the Potomac, fool with girls a lot..."

Mischievous and boyish, with a subtle sense of humor, Waller has felt most comfortable with women all his life - not surprising, considering his role as little brother to four sisters. Sachiko, who he met while touring Japan, is Charlie's third wife; he has four children.

"Charlie Waller was a regular dad," insists 18-year-old Mina Waller. "When people asked me what he did, it was, 'Well, yeah, he sings...' To me, that was a normal job. I didn't know anything else."

Here are the words Mina selects to describe her father: Normal. Down-to-earth. Talented. Hard-headed. Determined. "Did I mention hard-headed?" she laughs. "Whenever he gets the urge, he'll take the motor home out and go fishing. He collects guns. He likes old cars. He has a 1964 Cadillac in the garage. Every now and then he just looks at it. He likes to go into town; he likes to go grocery shopping. Just normal stuff."

"Charlie Waller is happiest when he's out somewhere around the pond with his pistol, his potted meat, and his pork and beans, catching a trout, singing songs around the campfire," says Greg Corbett, banjo player with the Country Gentlemen for the past nine years. "That is the life that Charlie Waller loves."

Corbett believes that his boss has lately decided to stop and smell the roses a little bit. "He's talking, for the first time in 30 years, about buying another bus!"

Reluctantly, Charlie confirms that the old coach may soon be put out to pasture. He says the oldest thing on his bus is its title. "But everything else is new! My daughter wants me to get another bus so bad... She's on the Internet all the time getting all the deals she can. These buses run a lot of money. Most of the stars lease. I don't want a lease! I've been running this old one because it still looks and runs good. But it's getting old, so I've been thinking about -" here, he sighs deeply - "maybe getting another one."

Jimmy Gaudreau offers an anecdote that beautifully illustrates Waller's legendary frugality. "Charlie hated putting new strings on his guitar, because they always sounded so bright and tinny. So he would use strings as long as he possibly could, even after he broke one! They always broke right down at the bridge. The little ball would fall off inside the guitar, and the string would pop out. All these little brass balls would roll around inside his guitar. He'd take the guitar and shake it upside down until one of these things fell out. Then he would tie it back on to the string that broke, shove it back down in the hole, and use it again... sometimes three or four times!"

As might be expected from a man who is happiest when sitting in front of a well-stocked pond, Charlie Waller is notorious for his dislike of rehearsal. "If you get Charlie settled down to practice, about thirty minutes is all you're gonna get out of him," says Greg Corbett. "He loves being on stage; he just dreads the rehearsal. And you have to push Charlie to the point of almost aggravating him to death to get him back in the studio. Therefore, we don't do it a lot."

"Redwood Hill"... "Matterhorn"... "Bringing Mary Home". These beloved standards, played by the Country Gentlemen in its various early incarnations, are still greeted with delight whenever the present-day band performs. This, says Corbett, has lessened the need for practice. The arduous task of learning new material is usually done in transit. "Somebody'll get the guitar out, and we'll do the singing. We just get the singing and the harmony down, going down the road. One thing about Charlie: if we get our part, he'll remember his part. I don't care if it's been 40 years since he's done a song!"

He sings "One More Ride", and it doesn't sound like Hank Snow; it sounds like Charlie. His voice soars through the hall, finding its way into every corner. Lord, the man's an American treasure. People hold their breath when he takes a break on that battered old guitar. Will he do it? He does it just fine, and oh, how they applaud!

Several times in the past six decades, the world almost lost Charlie Waller. But last August it came way too close, even for Charlie's comfort.

"I went to mail a couple letters, and I noticed something funny," he remembers. "I stopped the car, got out and walked around, but it didn't clear up. I had to find a house where I could call my wife because I felt I shouldn't drive. I didn't go to the hospital that night; I went the next day."

Tests would show that Charlie Waller had suffered an aneurysm and a mild stroke. "And Dad said, 'Oh, really? I thought I felt a little funny...' recounts Mina Waller with exasperation and love.

During his hospital stay, Waller was also diagnosed as a diabetic. "I'm trying to watch my diet, and I take my own blood sugar levels," he comments. He weighed over 200 pounds before his hospitalization; he's now down to a trim 180.

And his voice? "I think right now I'm singing the best I ever have!" says Charlie. "I'm getting up in my age. But right now I'm more satisfied with my sound than I ever have been."

The cornerstone of the Country Gentlemen may be Charlie's strong lead vocals, but the individual contributions of his current band members are noteworthy. "He might just be pumping our heads up, but Charlie has said that the music we're doing now is some of the best he's ever done," Corbett says proudly. Then he laughs, and adds sheepishly, "We kinda check his temperature when he says that!"

While still a member of New Vintage, Corbett approached Charlie at a 1992 bluegrass festival and learned that the Country Gentlemen would soon need a banjo picker. He started two weeks later. Ronnie Davis, a talented bass player who had played with Alvin Breeden and the Virginia Cut-ups, joined the band that August. Darin Aldridge, a gifted mandolin player in his early twenties, has now been a Country Gentleman for two years.

Calling My Children Home, the band's first gospel album in 23 years, was released late last year. As this article was being written, the band was preparing to go into the studio to record select out-of-print songs. "We do 'House of the Rising Sun' every show, and we don't have it on anything to sell. We're going to record some of the songs we do in our stage shows with our current band." Corbett says the album may include "The Young Fisherwoman," "Don Quixote," and "Circuit Rider."

Fans of the band's early vinyl are also in for a few treats this year. High Lonesome, a double CD collection of the complete Starday recordings, was released in December 2000. On The Road (And More), scheduled for release by Smithsonian Folkways as this issue went to press, will include 1963's On The Road in its entirety. The "And More" portion of the title refers to six previously unreleased tracks recently discovered in Folkway's archives, which were recorded live at the Country Gentlemen's historic Carnegie Hall appearance on September 16, 1961.

Later, Mina gently puts her arm around him and leads him to the backstage entrance. As they maneuver through the crowd, he is greeted warmly. "Hey, there's Charlie! Good to see ya, Charlie. Ya doin' all right?" He's a natural. Easy responses, clever and self-deprecating and sweet, roll off his tongue.

"Hey, Charlie! Ever think about retiring?" somebody asks him.

He doesn't miss a beat. "I did that the other day! I put some new ones on my bus."

Why doesn't Charlie Waller retire? "When he hits that stage - that's what keeps him there. He feeds off that energy. He's almost miserable from the time he leaves [home] till the time he gets on stage! But once he hits the stage, he's happy as a lark. That's the reason he keeps going." Corbett pauses, and laughs heartily. "That, and the money!"

"My wish is for him to live to be a very old man, and still, like Mr. Monroe, perform right up until that time," says Jimmy Gaudreau. "I know that's what he really wants to do. I'm sure he doesn't have any plan of retiring any time soon. He's a born entertainer. He was meant to be on a stage."

Tom Gray agrees, sending a message to his old friend. "I would like to see him live another 20 years, and keep on singing. Take care of yourself, Charlie!"

We go to the bus, just the two of us. His tiny dog greets us nervously. As we talk, Charlie punctuates his anecdotes by singing, here and there, a line or two from a song, like a professor might write notes on a blackboard. After a while, I realize the time has flown by, and I get concerned for him. "You hungry, Charlie?"

Just as we decide to return to the hall, Sachiko Waller materializes with a container of soup. The dog watches jealously as Mrs. Waller and I eat a slice of her homemade pumpkin cake while Charlie finishes his soup. He says a few longing words about the cake; he tried it earlier and found it delicious. It is, indeed; his wife's a good cook. But she's also a good wife, and she gently puts the cake away.

I ask Charlie, "If you could gather all your fans into one room, what would you say to them?"

He doesn't even have to think about it. "Well, mostly thank you! I love to go to festivals and play, and sit at the record table and meet people. There's a lot of stars - I ain't callin' me a star - but there's a lot of people that won't take time to talk. I don't believe in that, and never did. That may be Nashville's way, but it's not mine.

After a moment, Charlie adds softly, "Don't be afraid to come over and say hello."

Charlie and me, when I was 6.

Unpublished Extras!

Bonus Anecdote: A Walk on the Wild Side With Charlie Waller

"I always could confide in a female. I never got close to men... I always was closer with women. Of course, I was looking for anybody to take out and spend time with and enjoy the same things... which to me, was having a cookout, mixing some maracaibos..." A maracaibo, apparently, is one of those wild 70's Trader Vic-style drinks that is slugged through a straw through a hole drilled into a coconut. "That, and fixing a steak on the grill, and turning on the old black and white TV."

Charlie talks fondly of his old bus from the early days of the Country Gentlemen. "It was on the cover of one or two albums. It was a home away from home. I paid some people to let me keep it in their yard down in the country. I had a little stove in there to keep it warm. The bus was not insulated. It snowed, and I lit a fire in there to keep it warm, and it got the hull of the bus [so warm that] the snow melted, and would run down in the cracks between the windows and doors, and it froze. And I was in there with a girl... and we couldn't get out!" Charlie snickers mischievously. "It wasn't THAT bad... I said, 'Well, hell, I think we'll be in here for about a week!'"

Favorite Song or Album?

Eddie Adcock:
"One of the songs that I liked to do more than any of them [was] 'Letter to Tom'. [And] 'He Was A Friend of Mine'. Yeah, 'Matterhorn'. I could start talking about them, and I'd end up naming about forty! I don't believe that I have a favorite album. You go back in time and see that the first album you ever did is still holding up pretty good. For that long ago, it's holding up damn well, I'd say!"

Mina Waller:
"I like more country stuff... do you remember a song called "Good As Gold"? It's a really old one. He did it with Dick Smith, Bill Yates..."

Jimmy Gaudreau:
"My favorite album might be Country Gentlemen at Carnegie Hall. Favorite song of all time? Boy, it's a tossup. It's either 'Brown Mountain Light' or 'Matterhorn'. Oh, don't pin me down to either of those! It's a tossup. There's certain songs that Charlie sings that nobody can sing any better. Not anybody. 'Bringing Mary Home' - I think he probably has the definitive version. And 'Dark As A Dungeon' - who can beat Charlie at that?"

Greg Corbett:
"Probably Live In Japan. Doyle Lawson and Bill Emerson were with the band, and Bill Yates. It was a live show, and all my favorite tunes are on the album. The Japanese audience was really energetic, and there's a lot of energy in that album. It's just real good."

Tom Gray:
"By far my favorite album is Folk Session Inside, by Mercury! I wish that somebody would reissue it on compact disc. That, by far, is the best example of the early Country Gentlemen. "I love 'The Young Fisherwoman'. Of course, that was one that John Duffey sang the verses on. There's one that Charlie sang such a beautiful solo line in the chorus... 'I Am Weary, Let Me Rest!' Charlie sang a beautiful line in that: 'I am standing by the river...' Not in his deep, resonant voice, but in his clear voice."

Caroline Wright is a freelance writer. She can be reached via e-mail at c@wrightforyou.com.