By Maggie Bostain

Reclined in his chair, his bare feet propped up, wearing faded jeans and a blue button-down shirt, a smirk tugged across his face, Calvin Newman rests his calloused hands across his lap.

Newman (right) accompanying his brother Leonard (left) on the guitar. Photo credit: Maggie Bostain.

Born in Chesterfield, Virginia on November 27, 1932, to Leonard Adolf Newman and Nora Smith, Newman is now 86 years old and radiates wisdom. He attended Matoaca High School; however, school never interested him much. With the fluttering notes of the fiddle and guitar echoing in his home from his older brother Leonard and their father, it was inevitable that Calvin would follow them into music. With a fiddle always found lying around the house, tempting him to be played, Newman fell into the trap around eight years old. The fiddle was a toy used as a way to pass time. However, as Newman matured and grew older and recalling “all these fiddle tunes in my head,” he took the hobby more seriously, unaware that this new interest would play a leading role in his life.

Camp Breckinridge, in Breckinridge, Kentucky, serves as a troop training facility for up to 30,000 US Army and National Guard troops. It was here that Newman spent 16 weeks in basic training camp in the dead of winter in 1950, “crawling under barbed wires,” dodging the bullets of those “shooting over you,” and “walking for ten miles” to reach the nearest drugstore. Once their training was complete, the group received orders from Washington to travel to their new destination: Korea.

As soldiers from the North Korean People’s Army flooded across the 38th parallel in 1950, the U.S., fighting in hopes of aiding South Korea, joined what became known as the Korean War.  Through the eyes of American officials, “it was a war against the forces of international communism itself.” Newman was in the Merchant Marines for two years and in the US Army for three. While recounting his story, Newman explained that right before he was scheduled to go to Korea, his group from basic training was split in two, with one making the treacherous and uncertain journey to Korea and the other being sent to familiar Arlington, Virginia. Newman took a brief pause, stating that that split “probably saved his life,” as he avoided combat in the war.  

His last year of military service was spent in Germany. He was chosen to be a part of the special services, the entertainment branch of the American military. Newman travelled from base to base, performing for troops with a band formed from troops in the special services. Most of Germany he saw through a window, as there was “nothing to do but play.” With a smirk as if reliving the memories, Newman commented that the country music shows always were met with a “clean house” and the “best applause,” compared to pop music shows. Newman spent eight or nine months playing in Germany. Returning home, “I came out of the Army all hopped up to play the fiddle. And all I ever wanted to do was play fiddle. I said boy, am I gonna’ get me a job.”

Sonny and Bobby Osborne, who Newman toured with at the beginning of his fiddle career. Photo credit: Bristol Herald Courier.

Back on familiar soil, Newman was on the hunt for a job. While listening to the crackle of the radio, the flow of instruments and melodies were interrupted by an advertisement. Leaning closer, turning the volume louder, Newman listened closely. The Osborne Brothers, whose sound was one of the most distinctive and imitated in bluegrass in the 1950s, were looking to hire a new fiddle player to be a part of their band. Without hesitation, Newman recorded and sent in a tape, spending the next few days pacing around the phone.

Landing the job, Newman met his new band mates, Charlie Bailey and Sonny and Bobby Osborne, as they arrived driving a sleek, black Cadillac limousine. With their hit record “Rocky Top,” the group performed along the East Coast, even venturing into Canada for gigs large and small. Living on the road had its difficulties; hotels became a temporary home, and fast food replaced the comfort of home-cooked meals. Almost chuckling at how he survived, Newman commented, “I was living from hand to mouth. We’d just make enough.” Every dollar earned was spent on the next meal or hotel. Newman witnessed the truth of being a part of the music industry, witnessing great musicians “trying to squeak out a living if they can manage it.” With the hectic lifestyle, touring, and travel wearing on Newman, he asked himself, “Is this what I wanna’ do with the rest of my life? I was poor as a church mouse and had two to three days of beard.” Looking back, with a tinge of regret on his face, Newman said, “I think I made the wise decision to not do it whole-hog.”

In search of a more stable job, Newman stumbled upon McGuire Television, where he would spend the next ten years working on a television show advertising the G.I Bill of Rights. Signed by President Roosevelt in 1944, the G.I Bill was created in hopes of helping veterans returning from war ease back into an unstable economy. Opening the door to a higher education, the G.I Bill granted veterans the opportunity to continue their education tuition-free for up to $500.

Carrying a fiddle in one hand, Bob Wallace, chief of AT&T in Richmond in the 1960s, walked into the doors of McGuire Television looking for Newman. What started as a conversation between two fiddle players turned into an informal job interview, ending with Wallace inviting Newman to the AT&T store on 7th and Grace Street in Richmond to take a look at the place. Having already cemented a friendship over their love for the fiddle, Newman was formally interviewed for the job as a technician. He left McGuire Television and soon found himself being flown over the building of his new job by Wallace, who was also a pilot. Thankful to have the days on the road behind him, Newman commented, “The fiddle was good for me in that respect; it got me a decent job.”

Located in Fairfax, Virginia, Hunter’s Lodge hosted famous musicians for over 45 years, including Mel Tillis, Loretta Lynn, and Willie Nelson. Photo credit: Fairfax Underground.

Even with a regular job, Newman was unable to resist the urge tugging at him to play the fiddle, and he would rehearse and play at “a slice of honky-tonk” known as Hunter’s Lodge in Fairfax, Virginia. After work on Wednesday, he would make the hour and a half commute to rehearse, only to return that same night. Taking his lunchtime as a time to sleep, he would make the trek back up on Friday night, playing until one o’clock in the morning, and then returning back home that night to go to work on Saturday. Saturday evenings, he would make his third trip back to Hunter’s Lodge, staying until Sunday. Come Monday, the cycle would repeat itself. Almost in disbelief at how he functioned, Newman chuckled, “I could sleep anywhere.” 

An advertisement in a local newspaper for upcoming performances at Hunter’s Lodge. Photo credit: Fairfax Underground.

Resembling a barn, with wooden walls, floors, and low-hanging beams, Hunter’s Lodge could seat up to 400 people, and the audience included other musicians, old-timers, and those who just wanted to hear the “twang of live country-western music.” In its “family-like” atmosphere, it is the place “where you showed up for 3 a.m. jam sessions.” Country-western stars such as Loretta Lynn, Willie Nelson, and Mel Tillis all played there. Newman remembers that “musicians would drive 200 miles out of their way” just to witness this one-of-a-kind experience. In balancing his work and rehearsal schedule, Newman stated, with a sense of longing, “I worked for the telephone company, but my heart wasn’t in the telephone company. I couldn’t care less about the telephone company.” The lodge closed in the summer of 1986, with many reminiscing about the good times and music shared at Hunter’s Lodge.

Hunter’s Lodge was only another step in Newman’s career. Newman vividly remembers a night when Zeke Dawson, a fiddler with Ray Price, awoke him from his sleep at 3:00 in the morning. Newman fumbled to pick up and answer the phone, worried at who was calling at that hour. After a groggy “Hello,” Newman was met with the voice of Dawson asking him if “he wanted a job playing with Ray.” In shock, Newman struggled to grasp the idea of playing with someone like Ray Price, a Country Music Hall of Fame inductee who is prized for changing the sound of country music. Don Helms, steel guitarist for Hank Williams’ Drifting Cowboys, stated that “Ray Price created an era.” Gathering his thoughts, Newman regretfully declined the offer, remembering the hardships of life on the road. During our interview, Newman’s wife Dot, whispered, “Just think; you could have been a Ray Price fiddle player.”

Country Music Hall of Fame inductee Ray Price. Photo credit: Michael Ochs Archives/Getty.

Despite declining the offer to play with Price, Newman had a love for competing and playing Western swing, which is “the most eclectic form of country music.” It was popularized by Bob Wills and Milton Brown in the 1930s. With his love for competition driving him, Newman was a “seven-time national fiddle champion,” as well as an inductee into the Virginia Country Music Hall of Fame in 1979.

Retiring from AT&T after 25 years in 1991, Newman could not have been happier to start living a life full of fiddling. From 1991 to 1997, Newman spent his days playing at the Old Dominion Opry in Williamsburg, Virginia. Sid Hudson, a former lead guitarist for country singer Barbara Mandrell and co-owner of the Opry, hoped to fill the void of family-friendly entertainment by “offering a live music and comedy show twice a night, six nights a week, every week.”  An article from the Daily Press in May 1991 stated that Hudson recruited a group of 11 regular performers who would “bring a special level of professionalism.” Hudson then invited Newman to be the “mainstay of the Old Dominion Opry band.”  Despite being “a seven-time national fiddle champion who once played with The Osborne Brothers bluegrass group,” Newman simply accepted the invitation by saying, “I’m just a retired guy from AT&T who wants to play music.”

Original cast of the Old Dominion Barn Dance, which began in 1946. Photo credit: Library of Virginia.

The cast of the current Old Dominion Barn Dance, including Newman (front row, third from left). Photo credit: Dave Parrish.

More recently, Newman became a member of Richmond’s Old Dominion Barn Dance, a new take on an old show. The original barn dance was first broadcast as a radio show in 1946 on Richmond’s WRVA radio as “the city’s version of Nashville’s Grand Ole’ Opry.” Newman is the only person to be featured on both the original and current show.

Newman recalls drifting along the Mediterranean Sea while serving in the military, heading home and listening to the faded tunes of the Barn Dance show on a small radio receiver, saying, “After an extended voyage it was sure good to hear the sounds of home.” Newman praised the show, saying, “The Barn Dance had great entertainers, musicians, and vocalists. A lot of legends used it as a stepping stone to greater things, like Chet Atkins, Mac Wiseman, Reno and Smiley … for some, it became a jumping off place to Nashville and stardom.” The show was revived in 2015 by Donna Meade, widow of Jimmy Dean, the multitalented country singer, TV show host and actor, and owner of America’s favorite sausage company.

In December 2018, at the age of 86, Newman hung up the fiddle professionally, performing in his last show at the Old Dominion Barn Dance.

Hesitant to talk about his success as a fiddler, Newman answered all questions during our interview using the word “we,” referring to his wife Dot. Married since 1959, Newman refuses to accept full responsibility for any of his accomplishments. Calling him modest would be an understatement.

Newman and I playing together at the Old Dominion Barn Dance. Photo credit: Dave Parrish.

When I was seven years old, my mother asked me what instrument I would like to play. Driving across the Edward E. Willey Memorial Bridge, overlooking the James River, my mom turned the radio volume up as we cruised along. The familiar fiddle riff and sound of Charlie Daniels’ “Devil Went Down to Georgia” blasted from the speakers, and our feet naturally beginning to tap to the beat. Amazed by the speed and complexity of the notes, it was that day I decided on the fiddle. With a look of shock and disbelief, my mom called my grandma in an attempt to reach out to my great-great uncle, Calvin Newman.

I had never met my great-great Uncle Calvin, and I certainly did not know that he played the fiddle. My mother likes to believe it was a “God-wink” that I chose the fiddle, or some chance of fate.

Driving down his driveway in front of his current home in Chesterfield, Virginia, the gravel crunching beneath the tires, my head raced with mental images of what he might look like. Climbing the steps one at a time, I reached the door. Before I had time to knock, the door opened. With distressed Levi’s, bare feet, graying hair, and a button-down, he welcomed me with a gruff and hoarse voice. All worries of the unknown vanished. After years of seeing him every Saturday, he is no longer a stranger, but instead someone I trust and admire.

Opening for the Gatlin Brothers at the Old Dominion Barn Dance, Henrico Theatre. Photo credit: Dave Parrish.

From teaching me how to play the fiddle, to eating honeysuckle, or to spotting different birds, I have learned so much from him. Despite being the amazing musician he is, he has taught me the value of modesty and humility. Not everything you do needs to be seen or heard. He has preached over and over to me the importance and value of hard work. In life, nothing is ever handed to you. You must work for it. Most importantly, he has taught me the lesson of professionalism; the harsh reality that the show must go on, mistakes or not. Having had the honor of opening for country acts such as Lee Greenwood and the Gatlin Brothers, I can’t imagine doing any of it without Calvin by my side, coaching me every step of the way.

He has played such a crucial role in my life, shaping me into the person I am. He has opened my eyes to a new world of music and people I would have never discovered. Teaching me the fiddle, Newman has given me an outlet to escape the daily stresses of the world with, something that can change my mood instantly, and something that I truly love to do. 17 years old now, it has been ten years since the first time I drove along the curved roads to his house. Now, I can’t imagine my life without him. 

Newman and I after playing together at the Old Dominion Barn Dance. Photo credit: Maggie Bostain.

Featured image courtesy of Dave Parrish.