THE CLASS OF ’57 REMEMBERED: A SON’S TRIBUTE TO HAROLD REID
More than 20,000 fans crowded onto the Virginia hillside that morning. Some carried worn vinyl records tucked beneath their arms like heirlooms, others wore faded Statler Brothers tour shirts, their edges frayed by time. Together, they formed a congregation of memory — a living testament to a man whose deep, booming voice once told America’s stories of faith, laughter, and life.
As the autumn breeze swept gently across the field, lifting the flags that flanked the stage, a hush fell. This was not a festival, nor a concert. It was something heavier, something holier: a farewell.
Then, from the wings, Wilson Fairchild — Harold Reid’s sons — stepped into the light. The family resemblance was unmistakable, not only in their faces but in the way they carried themselves, with humility, humor, and reverence for the moment. One of them clutched a microphone tightly, his hand trembling.
With tears brimming in his eyes, he began to sing:
“Tommy’s sellin’ used cars, Nancy’s fixin’ hair…”
The familiar opening lines of “The Class of ’57” drifted over the hillside, quiet at first, almost fragile, until the crowd seemed to lean in as one body, breathing it in. A song that had once been a lighthearted reflection of small-town classmates suddenly carried new weight. Each verse now felt like a roll call, not only of fictional characters but of memories, of friends, and of Harold himself.
In that instant, the song transformed. It was no longer just nostalgia; it became a prayer. Each lyric was a son’s love letter to his father, each chorus a bridge carrying 20,000 voices back to the days when four men from Staunton turned harmonies into history.
When the final line rose into the air — “The Class of ’57 had its dreams…” — the crowd did not erupt in applause. Instead, silence lingered, heavy and sacred. Faces streaked with tears, hands pressed to hearts, they stood not as fans, but as family — united by the man whose laughter, bass voice, and faith had shaped them all.
And in that silence, one truth was clear: Harold Reid had not only been part of the Statler Brothers. He had been part of their lives. And through his sons, through the song, through the love that could not die, his voice still echoed across the Virginia hills.