Memories of Oprah & Valley Forge Music Fair

Columnist Bill Rettew takes a stroll down memory lane with a trip back to the Valley Forge Music Fair.

Although Editor Fran Maye might tease me about it, I’m syndicated! Small Talk now appears in the Kennett Paper and the Avon Grove Sun. I’m visiting Canada and New England this week, so I pulled out one of my favorite columns from Sept 5, 2014. For those new readers who are just getting to know me, enjoy.

Life at the best is a collection of small moments.

Some of my favorite moments occurred 100 times each year, while on the job at the now-closed Valley Forge Music Fair.

The best moment of each performance occurred right at the beginning. After most of the audience had secured a drink and settled into their seats, the relaxed buzz of fairgoers chatting floated throughout the theater.

Suddenly the lights go down, and everyone collectively looks for their first view of the star. All talk suddenly stops. Anticipation becomes reality. A spotlight jumps to the Bill Cosby, Johnny Cash or Kenny Rogers walking down and aisle and through the audience. The crowd erupts.

The Music Fair in Devon started out as a tent in 1955 and was sadly shuttered in 1996. It was razed, in part, for a supermarket that closed after just 16 months. We loved that 2,932-seat theater-in-the-round. Sadly, national acts don’t visit Chester County as much anymore.

Yeah, I worked parttime and was paid a quarter an hour more than minimum wage, but it was that supreme perk of catching shows that kept me working there five years.

When people asked me what I did, I told them I pointed for a living. In all weather, I waved, while squeezing vehicles into every square inch of available parking lot asphalt during sold-out shows.

The dome and marquee of the fair was a fine sight from Route 202. Inside it was even cozier. The white stage in-the-round was repainted every three or four shows and the acoustics were nearly perfect. When the theater was empty it was possible to talk at a regular speaking level from opposite ends of the seats and be clearly heard.

I was regularly asked for comp tickets and most shows I was able to accommodate friends. No performer generated more passion than Oprah Winfrey, who taped a show at the fair. No comps for Oprah. I had to disappoint 20 avid fans.

During Oprah’s gig, a neighbor showed at the parking lot in a bathrobe asking why a news helicopter was circling low above her house at 6 a.m. When she was told it was for an Oprah show, she simply nodded, while seemingly understanding the hoopla.

The fair hosted nearly everything, including Chippendale’s dancers, wrestling, kiddie shows, high school graduations and Broadway productions.

The country stars arriving in airbrushed homes on wheels were the most down-to-earth and seemed to enjoy stardom the most. One singer sold a scale replica of his bus for $8.

This rock ‘n’ roller learned to appreciate country music, which shouldn’t be surprising when Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Wynonna were up there strumming guitars.

Groupies often begged us for backstage passes, which wasn’t technically back stage at a theater-inthe-round. And the professional autograph hounds, rarely buying a ticket, were out back most nights.

Tony Bennett, Steve and Eydie, Liza and AnnMargaret put the show in show business. It was fun to watch the ladies swoon for Tom Jones, Englebert, Julio Inglesias, Johnny Mathis and even Perry Como.

The comedians, easily recognizable by one name, were my favorites. I was on the clock, laughing along with Seinfeld, Pryor, Gallagher, Cosby, Howie, Rodney and Carlin.

I watched nearly everyone who took that rotating stage for five years, including the final evening’s performance of Kenny Rogers. With no previous interest in seeing Rosemary Clooney, I even enjoyed watching the crowd eat up an old hand at work.

Sure, I pointed in a parking lot, but I also read the trade publications, including “Variety.” I was sometimes involved in the inner workings of the fair and got an insight into the business. I heard the gossip and in the dark nearly stepped on Joan Rivers’ dogs while an assistant was walking them.

I now understand the guy working for the circus with the job cleaning up after the elephants. He was asked why he didn’t retire after 55 years. “And leave show business?” he replied.

I’d still likely be working at the fair if it was still open. I didn’t leave show business, it left me. Missing is a bit of Chester County glitter, sparkle and shine. It was magic. Oprah will just have to go someplace else.