It takes a special kind of bravery to step onto a stage, armed with nothing but your talent and a willingness to bare your soul to strangers. Open mic nights embody this raw courage, where artists of all kinds—musicians, poets, comedians—challenge themselves not only to be heard but to connect. To say they are anything less than extraordinary would be missing the heart of the matter entirely.
As I write this, I’m sitting with my brother and cousin after just stepping off the stage at Plain Folk Café in Pleasant Plain, Ohio. My family group, The Brothers & Co., which now consists of my older brother and our cousin, has been performing together for over 30 years. We’ve played at casinos, festivals, theaters, just about everywhere – as professional entertainment. But I’d never experienced an open mic event until my cousin invited us to go as a group. He was a regular here, receiving a very “Cheers” like welcome from fellow performers when we arrived.
Every Thursday night since 2012, performers and patrons alike enjoy good food and entertainment, and the stage isn’t just a platform; it’s a crucible where artistry takes shape. The sign-in sheet, held aloft by a sombrero-wearing ceramic frog, sets the tone: quirky, welcoming, and uniquely communal. Each participant scribbles their name with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, knowing they’re stepping into an unfiltered arena. Some are regulars, others are first-timers, all are committed.
The pull of an open mic is multifaceted. For some, it’s a chance to test new material, an incubator for ideas that might someday grow into greatness. Writers spend hours pouring their souls into words; musicians craft melodies that echo with personal truths. They arrive not knowing whether their work will elicit applause, laughter, or silence—but they come anyway, driven by the need to express and improve.
Then there’s the process itself—learning not just to perfect the art, but to perform it before a living, breathing audience. Open mic performers are incredibly brave, hoping their work connects with even one person in the crowd. That’s where the beauty lies: that vulnerability becomes their strength. It’s almost a superpower, one which, for all my professional experience, can’t comprehend.
Gary Deer Jr and Gery Deer, two of the trio, The Brothers & Co., watch other performers on stage at Plain Folk Cafe.
The first time I was on stage, I was in first grade, doing a ventriloquist act in my elementary school talent show. I had studied the art for a year or so, and my mom thought I might like to show people. I agreed, and the next thing I knew, I was smack in the spotlight of the ultimate open mic set — me, a ventriloquist dummy, 250 schoolmates, teachers, and parents.
One joke, a laugh; another, some applause, and, at the end, I won first prize for my grade. That moment led to a lifetime of performing in front of audiences, from lecturing and emcee work to appearances at hometown festivals and on national TV. Yet, with all that, I can’t fathom getting up there alone, week after week, in front of a cafe full of patrons and performers. It requires a very different kind of courage.
Open mic nights strip away the barriers between artist and audience. Whether it’s a musician pouring their soul into an original ballad or a comic braving the silence between punchlines, the essence of their art is laid bare. Every strum of a guitar or carefully penned word reveals hours of effort, doubt, and hope. It’s humanity, distilled.
Most importantly, these evenings foster connection. In the glow of the stage lights, an unspoken camaraderie develops among performers and listeners alike. The applause isn’t just polite acknowledgment; it’s a collective celebration of effort and heart. That shared experience is what makes open mic nights so much more than casual entertainment—they’re gatherings where creativity finds its voice and its audience.
If you’ve never been to an open mic event, I urge you to go, not as a critic, but as a witness to the raw courage and artistry on display. You may not love every performance, but you will leave with a renewed appreciation for the grit it takes to share oneself so openly, and for all the creative souls who fearlessly challenge themselves week after week.
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To learn more about The Brothers & Co. Entertainers or Plain Folk Cafe, visit them on Facebook at:
The Brothers & Co. Bus served the group when it was a quartet traveling around the region to perform variety and music shows at festivals, theatres, and resorts. It has since been retired.
Deer In Headlines Special Edition – October 14, 1993
It had been a long day for the freshman saxophone player and his high school marching band friends. By now, it was 4:30 in the afternoon, and the day had begun for them nearly eleven hours ago. They’d earned the opportunity to compete in a tri-state marching band competition in Huntington, West Virginia, some 200 miles from home.
The mid-October afternoon had become hot and muggy. Even the seats in the stadium were perspiring. The adventure had begun early that morning with all the spirit of the world’s most excellent universities. The performances were over, and they sat impatiently awaiting the judging results.
This is the view of the real Greeneview High School marching band during their first song of the contest—from the families’ perspective. (Photo by Lois Deer, 10-17-1981)
The bands were divided into three classes based on the size of their home schools. This group’s small, rural high school was in the last division, called class B, at this show. That meant it would be a long, hot wait by the time they went through each division, of each class, of each award. It was nerve-wracking, it was hot, and it was discouraging, but they waited. Patiently – well, sort of.
The university stadium buzzed with nervousness and emotion as the first awards were called. “Fifth place, class AA, goes to…,” A loud cheer bellowed from 100 yards down the bleachers, drowning out the anxious and irritated sigh from the young saxophonist and his group. The noise subsided. The announcer spoke again. “The fourth-place award goes to…” Another excited cheer came from the stands. The little band had worked hard all summer for this. It was one of the best shows they’d ever done, but this performance got off to a shaky start.
Their arrival at the host stadium was almost the exact time they were supposed to go on the field for their practice run, and things were rough. Heat exhaustion cost them one of the flag corps at the start of their competition show. The Astroturf-covered football field, new to most of the marchers, created its own set of problems. These kids were used to trotting through mud and grass. Now, wearing the slick-souled dress shoes, they had to contend with spongy ground and slippery artificial grass.
If that wasn’t enough, one of the trombone players nearly decapitated a field judge with his slide. During his morning pep talk, the director said, “Judges were fair game…” Meaning, if they got in the way, just keep doing what you’re supposed to do. Unfortunately, the aggravated trombonist took the recommendation literally. Somehow, they got through it all, and there they were. Hot. Sticky. Impatient. Every ingredient was added to create a group with a bad attitude, who, by this time, faintly resembled people sitting in a traffic jam.
A lot was riding on this, though. Everyone was here. Parents and family friends had accompanied the band on the four-hour Greyhound bus ride that morning. The busses pulled out of the school lot at 6 a.m., scored by the groans of how you’d expect average high school kids to at that time on a Saturday morning.
Most slept on the ride down. Many brought weekend homework. Others reviewed their music to ensure they remembered that one bad note at the football game the night before. Whatever the case, they made it, and everyone was pumped. And a little scared. Friday night football games were never like this. The tension grew and hovered in the air over the little group just the way that bricks don’t.
The young saxophonist eyed the band’s director. He was down on the track on the opposite side of the field, pacing back and forth in front of the reviewing stand like an expectant father. Another announcement blared from the public address speakers. The director’s curly afro hair and kinky beard glistened in the fall sun with impatient perspiration, giving him more the appearance of a heavy metal rock singer than a high school band director.
Then again, everyone was starting to look like that. The group grew increasingly discouraged with each passing award. The announcer was up to their class now, and the fourth-place award was called. Rats! The saxophonist slumped back against the bleachers with an irritated gasp. So did everyone else.
“There’s no way, ” he thought. “All these huge bands from three states? We can’t possibly have a chance at anything higher than fourth.” That seemed to be the general opinion of the others as well.
Another award. More cheering. None of it from them. Now, the announcer was up to second place, and the morale-broken musicians began standing, a few at once. Each gathered their things to return to the busses and the quiet little farm town. Some had already left the stadium.
“Well, so much for that,” someone said. “This is embarrassing, ” said another, like a line plucked from a Peanuts cartoon. Even their band director dejectedly headed towards his disappointed students. The announcer began to speak again, but no one in the group was listening. It was over. They tried, but the odds were against them, and the game was rigged.
“Second place, class B goes to…” A long pause.
This seemed to be the announcer’s annoying trademark, meant to instill drama. It didn’t work. It was just irritating. When their band took the field for the show, he sounded like he’d been mugged midway through his address. “You may take the field for comp…” Everyone held their breath. “…etition.” Whew!
Suddenly… the words no one expected to hear. No, more than that. They were impossible, improbable, incomprehensible words.
“Second place, class B goes to… Greeneview High School Marching Band from Jamestown, Ohio!”
For a solid breath, someone blinking would have rung like a gong. No one moved. No one spoke. Those shambling out stopped and turned around. There was an oxygen-steeling collective gasp.
A slow, quiet calm settled over the group as their brains processed the words they’d just heard. Suddenly, explosive screams of joy shattered the silence. They cheered, cried, and hugged. In the stadium section where their families were, everyone was on their feet, jumping, crying, and yelling. Even the other schools called cheers of congratulations, and they were equally shocked by the news.
The little band’s director stood in silent shock for a moment, and then it hit him. His eyes were as big as saucers when he turned to face the band from across the field, raising one arm in victory to them as if this little band’s second-place win were Olympic gold. It might just as well have been, but that wouldn’t have meant as much to them.
At the reviewing stand far below, their field commander and flag corps captain proudly marched to the awards table and saluted the presenters. Their vibrant red, white, and Colombian blue uniforms were almost as brilliant as the sun itself as they spun around in a military-like snap to salute the ecstatic audience. The pair accepted the two-and-a-half-foot trophy and rejoined the line of representatives standing at attention in front of them – both in tears.
Back in the stands, the young saxophonist and his friends watched and beamed. This was truly their most honored time together. The young man shaded his eyes as he took a moment to look at these people and tried desperately to soak it all in before it was over. They had no idea what they meant to him. So much of their lives lay before them. But this day… this was a day they’d never forget. “Someday, this is going to make a great story,” he thought.
The bright sunlight brought a tear to his eye. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the sunlight at all. He wiped it away. The thundering applause, congratulations, and excitement continued for what, in reality, was only about a minute or two. But it wrang out for what seemed like a lifetime to… The Little Band That Could.
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Epilogue
My name’s Gery Deer, and that’s a true story from October 17, 1981. I was the “young saxophonist,” and I was right. I never forget that day, and it did make a great story. The band, Greeneview High School Marching Band of Jamestown, was under the direction of Richard Turner.
Band Director Richard Turner, the contest trophy, and me – Gery Deer in my newly-minted Greeneview school jacket.
I wrote this story after visiting Cooper Stadium in Columbus, Ohio, to see Greeneview perform in another competition show many years later. They competed in the Ohio Music Education Association’s state finals, and it was fascinating how little things changed from one era to the next. It was like reliving that day all over again.
Two of my four nieces were in the band in those days—now three decades ago. The oldest was the band’s field commander, a senior at the time, and a saxophone player like her uncle. The next oldest was a clarinetist and a freshman. They didn’t win their contest but took an honorable mention. Either way, I think they will still reflect on their day, as I do mine, and remember the feeling.
No one could have been prouder of my family and my school except maybe my parents, who were there again to watch their grandchildren as they did their own. And they, too, will remember. They say we can never be kids again. Well, no one could have gotten closer to it than I did that day. But to the “next generation,” I say, “When it seems like us old folks don’t understand, try to remember, we were there too.”
“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday. The regular crowd shuffles in.” Those are the first lines of Billy Joel’s “Piano Man,” a song that always transports me back to my college days. To help pay for school, I was the pianist at a small Italian restaurant. Even in the 80s, it was old-fashioned, with one large room outlined by raised booths along the walls and a few floor tables in the middle. The decor was, what’s the word, beige. Yep, a lot of beige. Or was it brown? It’s tough to be sure because the lighting was pretty low.
Every Friday and Saturday evening, for about three hours, I performed all instrumentals on a small studio upright. I was like a live Muzak machine without the lyrics. I. Did. Not. Sing. Period. No one would have wanted to hear that. You might as well go outside and toss an alley cat into an upright trash can for that cacophony.
I had a repertoire of about 250 pieces, mostly pop and oldies, but I tossed in the occasional classical number just to show off. A quiet tinkling of “Fur Elise” goes particularly well with linguini, and the leg of lamb begged delivery of Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze.” I can’t read music, so everything was by ear. I memorized each song pretty much the first time it fell from my ear to my hands. Regulars would often bring a tape of some song they wanted me to play, and I’d learn it before their next visit.
“Piano Man” Gery Deer, performing for a holiday event at Sinclair Community College in 1988.
Once in a while, I’d break out the occasional show tune. On slower nights, I’d rearrange some old TV show theme song into a long, drawn-out ballad. You should hear my dramatic rendition of “Gilligan’s Island” at half speed with Liberace-esque flourishes. People would ask if it was some rare piece by Rubinstein or Mozart. I’d reply, “Oh, no. It’s an original by Schwartz (Sherwood, that is – go look it up).
Playing in a restaurant isn’t all tickling the ivories and clever combinations of sets. It’s more about the people. Unlike a “piano bar” or dueling pianos show, restaurant performances are more atmosphere than anything else. Still, although I got paid for my hours on the bench, my livelihood really depended on tips.
Depending on the traffic, my available talent that evening, and the generosity of the customers, I could have a forty-dollar or four-hundred-dollar night. The latter required some people skills. I was unable to respond with more than a smile or nod when someone tipped me while I was playing. So, I’d take a break at my first opportunity and walk over to their table to thank them.
Here’s a secret about restaurant or bar piano players. We are always watching you. No, I didn’t care what you ordered. I never gave a thought to how stingy you were about tipping the waitstaff after spending a ridiculous amount on too many bottles of cheap wine. Nor did it matter to me that your date’s dress was so short your wife would certainly have disapproved.
No, I was studying my audience’s reaction. It was gratifying when people clearly enjoyed my work and that it added to their evening experience. If a table was paying particular attention to one kind of music, I’d adjust my set list accordingly. More often than not, a request or early tip came from one of those parties, generally the lady of the table. I think the guys were embarrassed to come up to me. I have no idea why.
During my three years there, I also learned a great deal about human behavior. Restaurants only provide a two-dimensional view of human interaction, but it’s alive with celebrations, sadness, gluttony, and togetherness.
I was very young then, so I also learned a lot about myself, particularly that I was more introverted than I’d ever realized. I’d like to think my music always improved someone’s day and that it still does. At least, I hope so.
If a street or restaurant musician ever makes your day just a little brighter, please take time to tell them so and drop a few bucks in their jar. You’ll make their day and yours, too.
During college, I played piano at a restaurant on the weekends to help pay for school, entertaining people as they dined. In the summer, patrons tended to linger and, fortunately for me, the tip jar reflected their approval of my work. But on those nights, I didn’t start the long drive home until after 2 in the morning.
When I’d finally arrive at our farm, I’d steer my old Mustang down the tunnel of pines that lined the long driveway, cut the headlights, slip it into neutral, kill the engine, and coast to a stop just short of the house. It was hard to gear down after that kind of evening – the people, my music, the energy – all of it. To try to unwind I would hop onto the hood of my car, roll up my jacket and tuck it under my head, lean back on the windshield, and just lay there staring up at the sky for a while.
Pre-dawn summer at the farm was like a different world. The smell of fresh-cut hay drying in the field, the sound of the corn stalks crackling in the night breeze, and the calmness of the cattle grazing lazily in the dark, relaxed me. Overhead, the night sky was speckled with pinpoints of light on dark canvas as if someone had been dabbling in abstract art.
When there were no clouds or moon, I could see the dusty path of the Milky Way overhead flecked with white and blue and yellow and red. It was like a gigantic bottle of multicolored glitter had been spread over black felt. Sometimes, I would catch a glimpse of a shooting star or two. It was so spectacular; no Hollywood movie effect could come close.
Enamored with the stars, everything around me seemed still, silent. But what some people might call ‘silence’ was actually pretty noisy, and musical.
The car hood was like the perfect concert seat, and like something out of a planetarium show, nature had her own musical score to go with the spectacular view I had. There was a natural orchestra tuning up and it soon began the overture as if someone raised a curtain at just the right moment. I was surrounded by the ratcheting sound of crickets filling the air from all directions. Like bass clarinets in a philharmonic, the deep, throaty call of frogs courting their mates echoed from the pond all through the valley around our house.
The percussion section punctuated the frog song as the century-old oak tree nearby rang out like tympani when an owl landed with a hard thud on one of the upper branches. In the bowels of the old tree, the owl’s white, downy chick was rousted from her sleep and began to screech her impatient hunger.
Off in the distance, one of the cattle groaned long and low as she watched over her sleeping calf. Not to be outdone, the pre-dawn breeze created a wind section that played the treetops in harmony with this early morning melody. I lay there, immersed in the sounds, sights, and feelings, soaking it all in and trying to capture every moment of it for later recall.
Sadly, the orchestra was coming to the last measure now as the sun was about to enter, center stage. I saw the slight orange glow on the eastern horizon and the stars had already begun to disappear. My private, drive-in concert show was about to end, and a long yawn escaped me. I looked at my watch. “Geez,” I thought, “it’s four in the morning already.” But now, I was calm. Now I could sleep, and I generally did.
That was more than 30 years ago, and my life has certainly changed a lot since those days. Back then, the excitement of the future lay before me and wouldn’t let me sleep for fear of missing something. I’d like to think I didn’t miss anything along the way. But, for all that’s been good in my life, what I wouldn’t give to lay out there on the hood of that car again watching the best show Hollywood never made, listening once more to the greatest orchestra ever assembled.
July 26, 2022 – Yellow Springs, OH – The Yellow Springs, Ohio Chamber of Commerce invites the public to Experience Yellow Springs with the return of the Yellow Springs Street Fair from 9 AM to 5 PM on Saturday, October 8th, 2022. The popular event will feature two music stages, a beer garden, live street performers, more than 200 vendors, and a wide variety of unique shops and restaurants in the beautiful village of Yellow Springs. The street fair is free and open to the public.
Registration is now open for craft and food vendors, as well as music and entertainment providers. Downtown businesses will be given booth space options close to their shops and other local vendors will have preferential location options as well. But space is limited, and deadlines are approaching. The local vendor registration deadline is July 31st, and the overall vendor registration deadline is August 29th.
Prior to the pandemic, Yellow Springs Street Fair has been held twice a year, spring and fall, attracting as many as 15,000 visitors in a single day to the small Greene County village. “After 2 ½ years and 5 canceled street fairs, the Chamber is excited to welcome back this classic Yellow Springs event,” said Jason Bailey, Vice President of the Yellow Springs Chamber of Commerce Board of Directors. “Our team and the Village of Yellow Springs are diligently planning to ensure a safe return of Street Fair with hopes that it provides the opportunity to experience the art, culture, and community of Yellow Springs!”
Primary logistical support for the street fair is being spearheaded by the event staff of Mills Park Hotel in Yellow Springs. The new co-owner of the hotel is Ryan Aubin, a member of the Yellow Springs Chamber of Commerce Board of Directors. “We are thrilled to see such an important event return to downtown Yellow Springs,” Aubin said. “I’m honored to be a sponsor and that our staff has the opportunity to help bring it back, hopefully, better than ever. We hope people will come and make the event as successful as it was before so it can continue.”
Organizers are also asking for volunteers to assist with set-up, tear-down, and festival operation throughout the day. Positions are available all day, from 6AM until 6PM, with short, flexible, shifts. Volunteers receive a free Street Fair t-shirt, and a ticket for one beer or two non-alcoholic drinks at our beer garden.
For more information, visit yellowspringsohio.org, or contact the Yellow Springs Chamber of Commerce Event Team by email at info@ysstreetfair.com or call (937)-767-2686.
Xenia, Ohio August 8, 2019 — DesaLitt, the up-and-coming alternative rock group based in Xenia, Ohio, has announced the release of their newest album. Titled, “Useless,” the work is described as a roller coaster of emotions captured by the expression of the music and giving fans a sharp, new experience from a unique blend of rock sounds.
Alternative sound, a new album and new shows highlight local band’s rise.
About DesaLitt — With critical comparisons to such artists as Nirvana, Bush and Seether, DesaLitt’s sound is a mixture of grunge rock, hard rock and pop, with some new twists on those themes. The new album, “Useless,” is set for an August 9, 2019 release and available in digital form on most providers including iTunes/Apple Music, Spotify, Google Play, YouTube, Amazon, iHeartRadio, and more. Fans can purchase physical CD’s beginning August 10th through band members and at shows and from the website starting August 15th.
DesaLitt’s performing members include local talents Greg Crawford and David Anderson of Xenia, Nicholas Starns from Jamestown, and Steve Wick of Waynesville. The band’s first single, “Car Fire,” was a mix of blues and grunge with a pop-driven, new rock sound. Their second single, “learn What You Fear,” is darker, featuring a softer bass and lead guitar-driven verse mixed with a heavy Rock chorus.
“Our third single, ‘It’s Alright,’ is a very special release to us,” said DesaLitt performer and manager, Nick Starns of Jamestown, Ohio. “The song smacks the listener in the face with an acoustic guitar and keyboard intro paired beautifully with a grunge-based chorus.”
A full schedule of performances, video and links to purchase their music is available online at www.desalitt.com. Fans can also follow the band on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube by searching “desalitt.” For bookings or media information contact the group’s manager, Nick Starns by calling 937-768-2840 or email desallit.info@gmail.com.
Lois Deer (center) with The Brothers & Co. members Gary Deer Jr., Gery Deer, and husband Gary Deer Sr. at the Jamestown Opera House in 2010
JAMESTOWN, OH – On a cold, winter night, a couple of weeks after a family Christmas party in 1994, something historic took place. William Sutton, his brother Gary “Tuff” Sutton, Sr., and their nephews, Gery Deer and Gary Deer, Jr., did something they’d never done before. They all met up on a Friday night at the Deer family farm in Jamestown, Ohio and collected their musical talents into what would become a lifelong undertaking. While you may never have heard of “The Brothers & Co. Entertainers,” their history is one of a unique brotherhood derived from a family whose musical talent goes back several generations.
While William and Tuff had played together many times over the years, the Deer brothers had never made the attempt. Tuff had helped Gery develop his natural piano skills and Gary Jr. hadn’t played his drums much after graduating high school in Fairborn in the early 1970s. But when they sat down, something really amazing happened, they just “worked.”
Tuff took on the lead and rhythm guitar duties. William was initially the group’s bass player, but picked up his dusty bow and took over the fiddle spot once family friend Jess W. Young, of Fairborn, signed on, and then there were five.
Originally called simply, “The Brothers,” the band went through a lot of changes in its first year or two, adding and subtracting musicians, but always maintaining the two sets of brothers as the foundation. By 1996, a decision was made to change the group’s name, adding, “& Co.” (and company), allowing them to add and subtract whomever they wanted without much of a branding problem, so long as Gery and Gary Jr. at least remained. Somewhere along the way, Gery and Gary Jr. decided that the group was made up more of “entertainers” than trained musicians, so that was tagged onto the name too – “The Brothers & Co. Entertainers.”
By 1996, Ed Jones had joined up on banjo and acoustic guitar. A cousin to the Deer brothers and another nephew of the Suttons, he also had never played together with his family before in this way. Sadly, the family lost Uncle Tuff Sutton to cancer in 2005, and William stayed with the group only a short time after and also passed away a few years later. Jess Young also retired from the group due to health reasons and passed away shortly after.
“None of who we are now would have happened without each of them,” Gery remembers of his family members who have passed on, including his mother, Lois, who died in 2011 after suffering for several years from Alzheimer’s disease. “We are who we are because of them and my mother was, essentially, the anchor. It was because of her that my brother and I are here and that the others came together with us. We couldn’t have done this without them.” But the changes weren’t over yet.
From inception until about 2004, the boys had maintained an instrumental bluegrass persona. But one Saturday night, shortly after a family friend, Jim Karns of Fairborn, joined the group, something odd happened. As Gery puts it, “We opened our mouths and a terrible, awful, nails on the chalkboard noise hit the air, as if four birds had flown headlong into a window while screeching at the top of their lungs.”
The Brothers & Co Variety Show will perform a 45 minute set at the Schuster December 4. Photo by Jen Copas
In truth, the experiment had landed them in uncharted waters. Although Ed had done some singing, and Jim, as the most experienced, having performed in theater productions while in school at Kettering Fairmont, Gery and Gary Jr. had virtually no singing experience. But there were some golden nuggets amidst the muddy waters of their four-part vocalization.
Working hard to find their respective parts, eventually everything finally fell into place and they had become singers as well as naturally talented musicians. But with change comes growing pains.
An expanded repertoire and wider variety of music required instrument and key changes and since they guys play their own instruments, staging issues caused shows to come to a dead crawl. But a solution for that problem quickly presented itself, and, as is the norm with this group, Mother Necessity birthed yet another Brothers & Co. innovation – one they like to call, “comagic.”
In addition to having a great set of bass singing pipes, Jim Karns is also an award-winning, classical stage magician. In addition, Gery was an accomplished stage bullwhip artist, having performed all over the country and on national television shows like America’s Got Talent and The Bonnie Hunt Show. He and Gery had met while working for an engineering center in Dayton and found they had many common interests, the least of which was a somewhat Vaudevillian sense of humor, one that fit in perfectly with an almost Grand Ole Opry styled stage show.
The Brothers & Co. Bus
The new family-friendly routines, originally designed to give time for stage and instrument changes, soon added a whole new dimension to the show. It wasn’t long until “The Brothers & Co. Entertainers” became, “The Brothers & Co. Music and Variety Show.”
After two decades of constant evolution, weekly rehearsals in a specially built room at the Deer family farm, and shows that spanned everything from coffee shops to casinos, The Brothers & Co. have more to offer than just four guys standing around singing. They are a full, family-friendly, stage variety show that can perform virtually anywhere. Their signature black, western outfits designed by Gary, Jr. and Gery’s mother, Lois, are a tribute to their family’s country music heritage.
The group has performed at the Schuster Performing Arts Center, the Victoria Theatre and the casino resorts of French Lick, Indiana, but their home is in Jamestown, and that’s where they want this 20th anniversary to tour to start. Gary Deer, Jr. is the percussionist of the group and sees to most of their technical requirements. “Mostly, we want to entertain people and give them a show like most haven’t seen since the 60’s,” he says.
“We put a modern spin on an old kind of entertainment that’s nostalgic and originally presented all at the same time,” says Jim Karns. “If you’ve never seen a live variety show, this is something the whole family will really enjoy.” To celebrate their 20th anniversary, The Brothers & Co. will present a pre-holiday performance beginning at 7PM, Saturday, November 22nd at the Jamestown Opera House, 19 N. Limestone St., Jamestown, Oh 45335, to benefit the Jamestown Area Historical Society.
The Brothers & Co. with Gary Deer Sr. and their late mother Lois Deer at the Wheeling Jamboree Radio Show, 2010
Gery says the show has something for everyone, and it comes from a place of deep meaning for the family. “This show is hard work, just like anything else of value. It honors our mother’s memory, it gives testimony to the fact that a family can do something together besides watch TV or play a video game. There is a family commitment to The Brothers & Co. that gives other families the chance to bring the kids and enjoy genuine, dare I say it, ‘wholesome’ entertainment that’s just plain fun. It almost doesn’t exist anymore and we rarely get a chance to show it here at home.”
Tickets at the door are $10 for adults, $5 for seniors and students. Children 12 and under are free. Tickets are available at the door the night of the show and for presale at Ted’s Barber Shop, 3 W. Washington St. in Jamestown. Sponsorships are also still available for businesses in the area starting at $100. Proceeds from this performance benefit the Jamestown Area Historical Society. More information is available from The Brothers & Co. website, thebrothersandcompany.com, and from their Facebook page. Watch for The Brothers & Co on the WDTN-TV2 program, Living Dayton, 12 noon, Tuesday November 18.
The Jamestown Comet 