The silence in the auditorium was profound, a sacred hush that fell over the crowd as a single spotlight found its mark on stage. There, bathed in a soft, golden glow, stood Jimmy Fortune, a man carrying the weight of a legacy on his shoulders. He took a shaky breath, his eyes looking past the audience towards something unseen, something heavenly. “This one’s for you, brother,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and with those six words, the night was transformed from a concert into a powerful, heart-wrenching eulogy.
Then, the music began. It was the iconic Statler Brothers classic, “Do You Remember These,” a song steeped in nostalgia for simpler times and cherished memories. But on this night, the familiar melody felt different, heavier. Every line carried more weight, each word a personal testament, because Jimmy was not just serenading a crowd of fans—he was singing to Lew DeWitt. For those who knew the history, this was a moment of incredible poignancy. Lew, the original tenor of The Statler Brothers, was the very soul of the group’s early harmonies. His gentle voice and brilliant songwriting were the cornerstones of their success. But a quiet, relentless battle with his health forced him to step away from the stage, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill. It was Jimmy Fortune who was chosen to step in, to carry the harmony forward.
“I’ll never forget the moment I got the call,” Jimmy once shared in an interview, the memory forever etched in his mind. “I wasn’t just stepping into a band. I was stepping into a brotherhood — into Lew’s shoes.” It was a sentiment he carried with him every day since. Throughout his own celebrated career with the Statlers, Jimmy never once forgot who came before him. He performed not as a replacement, but as a devoted custodian of a legacy, always feeling Lew’s presence as a quiet guide in the wings.
As the song swelled to its emotional peak, Jimmy was remembering everything: the harmonies, the shared jokes on the tour bus, the immense honor he felt, and the deep, unending sorrow of losing a hero who departed far too soon. When the final note hung in the air, tears were streaming down Jimmy’s face. He looked up again and spoke, his voice trembling but clear. “Lew, you gave me the greatest gift — a path, a family, and a purpose,” he confessed to the silent room. “And I’ll sing for you as long as I have breath.”
The audience remained motionless, many with hands covering their hearts, their own eyes shining with tears. It was clear this was not just a tribute from one musician to another. This was one brother singing to another, across time and heaven. And in that hallowed space, for just a fleeting moment, it truly felt as if Lew DeWitt was there — listening, smiling, and singing right along.
