That's What They Call "The Stuff of Legend"

I was 19. She was...roughly 130. But it didn't matter - I was still in love. She had the look, the aura, the mystique....everything about her was perfect.
"She," of course, is the Georgia Theatre - the shining beacon of this musical mecca I call home. She's hurting today, and so am I.
I fell in love with the Theatre that night at age 19 because, as I had always dreamed I would, I was getting my first headlining shot at the venue that night (with a long-gone rock band). I sat in every chair, touched every wall, damn near licked the stage, on the off chance - the slim possibility - that one of my heroes had done the same at some point in that room's storied past. Ask me how the show went, and I couldn't tell you. It's hard to pay attention when everything feels like a daydream.
I have had the wonderul perspective (though it's far from unique in this town) to have been able to call the Theatre home as a performer, a fan, a journalist -even an "employee" as an intern - and never have I been treated so well in return on all fronts.
As a fan: it was the first place I used a fake ID to get into a North Mississippi All Stars show as a high schooler (don't worry Wilmot, you didn't own it then).
As a musician: a year after that magical first headlining night, we released an album in that grand hall to a packed house - and subsequently got on the recieving end of Wilmot's good-natured jabs for, despite a great crowd, setting record low booze sales (they obviously didn't count the band).
As an "employee": you learn special life lessons running to Earth Fare to fill a rider request for the Benevento-Russo Duo, or checking in will call tickets for Zac Brown Band...outside...in 29 degree weather. God, it was great.
As a journalist: I've covered many of the theatre's "bands," sure, but that's besides the point. I'll never forget walking through the place with Wilmot after his first round of renovations - the man was beaming - giddy, for God's sake - at the bathrooms. Or having him pull me in off the streets to look at that "big ass fan" recently put in the ceiling. It's easy to cover a place with more character than most living subjects you can find.

Today, there's a heartbreaking crossroads for us all. Wilmot's not sure he'll get enough insurance money to rebuild the joint, and he's damn sure that if he does, it'll never be the same.
He may be right about #2, but never about #1. If the insurance company doesn't pay it, the city government will (errr...maybe). If the government doesn't, the bands will. If the band's don't, the fans will. What was here yesterday is gone today, but only in it's physical manifestation.

To Wilmot Greene, Winfield Smith, Scott Orvold and every other person involved with our Athens' grandest dame, we're hurting with you today, but we're all behind you. You've made a living out of making "yours" into "ours," and that favor will be repaid. Fires can destroy theaters. But they can't destroy legends.

- Alec Wooden
currently listening to Derek Trucks Band, Live at the Georgia Theatre