A LEGACY THAT REMAINS — Jimmy Fortune Reflects on His Journey With The Statler Brothers, Where Brotherhood and Faith Became One Melody
He never set out to make history — he just wanted to sing a song. But somewhere between late-night prayers backstage and harmonies that could still a crowd into reverent silence, Jimmy Fortune became more than the newest voice in The Statler Brothers. He became a thread in something eternal — a family stitched together by faith, laughter, and a love for music that never faded.
When Jimmy joined the group in 1982, he wasn’t replacing a man — he was continuing a story. The Statlers were already legends: Harold Reid, Don Reid, Phil Balsley, and Lew DeWitt, a brotherhood forged in small-town Virginia, where country music and gospel shared the same soul. Jimmy didn’t come to change that — he came to carry it forward.
“I thought I was just there to fill in,” he recalls. “But God had other plans.”
Those plans turned into two decades of timeless harmony — a sound that filled arenas, church halls, and front porches alike. From ‘Elizabeth’ to ‘More Than a Name on a Wall,’ Jimmy’s voice became the light woven through songs that reminded people of home, hope, and heaven.
But when Jimmy talks about those years now, it isn’t the applause he remembers. It’s the quiet moments — Harold’s jokes on the bus, Don’s words of wisdom, the whispered prayers before each show, and the unspoken understanding that what they shared was more than music. It was ministry.
“Those guys,” Jimmy says softly, “they didn’t just teach me how to sing… they showed me how to believe.”
When the group retired in 2002, the lights dimmed, but the song didn’t end. Jimmy carried the harmony into his solo career — singing the same truth, just in a different key. His concerts today are less about performance and more about connection. He still sings of faith, love, and memory, but with the tenderness of a man who knows what it means to lose, to endure, and to give thanks for every day he’s been given.
He often visits Staunton, Virginia, where the Statler story began, and stands in the quiet stillness of the place that made them who they were. “It’s funny,” he once said. “You spend your whole life chasing a song, and one day you realize the song was chasing you.”
Now, when Jimmy steps onto a stage alone, the harmony still follows him — invisible, but unmistakable. Somewhere in the sound, you can still hear Harold’s deep bass, Don’s calm storytelling, and Phil’s steady rhythm. The voices may have gone silent, but the bond remains — as strong as it ever was.
The Statlers may have sung their final encore, but through Jimmy Fortune, the echo continues — a melody born of loyalty, gratitude, and grace. It’s not a sound that fades with time; it’s one that grows deeper, like faith itself.
Because some songs don’t end when the music stops.
They live on in the hearts that remember,
and in the faith of one man who never stopped believing.