Five men. Five instruments. One standing engagement. Available for weddings, dances, holiday functions, and any event serving ham.
The Hi-Fi Five are the house band at WMRG and have been since the station first went on the air. They play the Christmas Eve broadcast every year, live in the studio, behind the shield, and Bing Marlow introduces them every year as the finest five-piece combo working, which is true in the sense that they are the only five-piece combo working, since the other one broke up over a dispute about a casserole.
The band came together at a church covered-dish supper when Lloyd Pettibone, who had been asked to play the piano during the meal, noticed that four other men in the room had each brought an instrument in the hope of being asked. Nobody had asked. They played anyway, and by the end of the evening they had a name, a set list, and a standing invitation to any function in the county that involved food. That invitation has never been rescinded, and they have never declined it.
It is fair to say the band loves ham. It is not fair to say the band loves only ham; they are equally devoted to turkey, roast beef, and a properly made potato salad. But ham is the great love of their professional lives, and their booking policy reflects it. Every engagement is honored in the order received, unless a subsequent offer is judged to be materially superior. What counts as materially superior is decided by the band. Historically it has been decided by the menu.
They have never turned down a second helping, never missed a downbeat, and never once been early to a gig that was not serving dinner.
Founded the band and has led it ever since, which is to say he owns the car. Does not look like a musician. Gets asked at every gig whether he is with the band, and answers by sitting down at the piano. Believes a spiral-cut ham is a gimmick and will say so.
Once played straight through a power outage on the grounds that the drums did not need electricity and neither did he. Counts the band in by knocking on whatever is nearest. Prefers his ham cold, on a roll, in the car on the way home.
The tallest, the quietest, and the one who eats the most. Has said perhaps forty words in the band's history and eleven of them were "is there any more of that ham." Carries the bass on his back and the leftovers in the case.
A dance-hall man from way back, with a tone like warm syrup and a firm ranking of every ham he has ever been served. His mother's glazed ham is number one and always will be. The Rotary Club is a close second, and Walter would like the record to reflect that he said so first.
The youngest, and the newest, having joined when the previous trumpet player retired to open a smokehouse. The previous trumpet player sends the band a ham every Christmas. Delmer has never been sure whether this was a kindness or a warning.
Bing Marlow, Vivian Vale, Chester, Maggie, The Kids, The Narrator, WMRG.
