spouse, who presided over a booth offering hand-blown bongs and bootleg eight-tracks.
The name of the brothers’ accordion band was GFR, which stood for Grand Funk Romberg, and they kept it rolling even as they grew older, married and settled into undemanding day jobs. Mostly they played weekends at county fairs and chili cook-offs, but every once in a while they scored a wedding. The idea to grow out their beards came one summer night from Matthew while they were rehearsing a raucous polka-fied rendition of “Tube Snake Boogie.” He suggested that they work up a four-song medley of ZZ Top hits, which soon became the centerpiece of their act. Todd taught himself the bass guitar and Henry bought a drum kit at a pawn shop in Green Bay. At first their beards grew unevenly, so the Rombergs wore fakes borrowed from a local theater troupe that specialized in Nativity plays. The beards, used by Joseph and two of the Wise Men, had to be returned in time for Christmas rehearsals. By then the brothers’ natural facial bloom was in full glory.
Out of nowhere, GFR received an offer to play a rodeo down in Little Rock, Arkansas. Matthew saw this as a portal to stardom, and after researching the demographics he proposed that the group change its name to “Buck Nance and the Brawlers.” The other brothers had no objections because Matthew deserved top billing, serving the triple-threat roles of lead accordion, promoter and business manager. The Rombergs were eager to gain a following in the South, as they’d become increasingly disenchanted with the so-called progressive elements on the rise in Wisconsin politics. They looked forward to reaching a wholesome, simpleminded audience that would appreciate their anti-government patter between songs. Also, they’d never been to a real rodeo.
Buck Nance and the Brawlers performed eight songs and were well-received, their barbed commentary drawing laughs and even some applause. After the gig Bradley dislocated a shoulder when one of the cowboys let him throw a rope on a calf, but the other brothers bought him a sling at Walgreens and dosed him with painkillers. Two nights later they opened at a shrimp festival in Biloxi, and two nights after that they were playing a Masonic lodge near Stone Mountain, Georgia.
Matthew’s bold prediction was coming true: The band caught fire on the biker-and-Bible circuit. The Rombergs traded their Dodge minivan for a second-hand Winnebago, and said goodbye to Whitefish Bay. During the next twenty years they returned only once, to attend the funeral of their father. The old man had suffered a massive heart attack during an ice storm while covertly trying to scrape an “Obama for President” bumper sticker from a smug neighbor’s Audi.
The election of a black president brought a boom in TV reality shows featuring feisty rednecks, and talent scouts began scouring the Dixie belt in a fevered search for the next
Duck Dynasty
franchise. Buck Nance and the Brawlers were discovered at a Howard Johnson’s off the interstate near Chattanooga, playing a toned-down set for a Catholic bachelorette party. They were flown business-class to Los Angeles for a meeting at Platinum Artists with Jon David Ampergrodt, who pronounced the Romberg brothers “perfect” except for their superior dental work. He promised them fame and wealth, presented a two-year management contract and sent them by limousine to a Malibu orthodontist to get their front teeth darkened and chipped. Matthew was allowed to keep the stage name of Buck while his brothers chose their own from a list of homespun monikers provided by the agency.
The transition from obscure regional musicians to wildly popular television stars put a strain on the brothers’ fraternal bond. From the beginning, the creators of
Bayou Brethren
felt the show should revolve around the colorful Buck character and the iron-willed Krystal. Inevitably resentment took root among the other family members—Junior, Buddy and
The name of the brothers’ accordion band was GFR, which stood for Grand Funk Romberg, and they kept it rolling even as they grew older, married and settled into undemanding day jobs. Mostly they played weekends at county fairs and chili cook-offs, but every once in a while they scored a wedding. The idea to grow out their beards came one summer night from Matthew while they were rehearsing a raucous polka-fied rendition of “Tube Snake Boogie.” He suggested that they work up a four-song medley of ZZ Top hits, which soon became the centerpiece of their act. Todd taught himself the bass guitar and Henry bought a drum kit at a pawn shop in Green Bay. At first their beards grew unevenly, so the Rombergs wore fakes borrowed from a local theater troupe that specialized in Nativity plays. The beards, used by Joseph and two of the Wise Men, had to be returned in time for Christmas rehearsals. By then the brothers’ natural facial bloom was in full glory.
Out of nowhere, GFR received an offer to play a rodeo down in Little Rock, Arkansas. Matthew saw this as a portal to stardom, and after researching the demographics he proposed that the group change its name to “Buck Nance and the Brawlers.” The other brothers had no objections because Matthew deserved top billing, serving the triple-threat roles of lead accordion, promoter and business manager. The Rombergs were eager to gain a following in the South, as they’d become increasingly disenchanted with the so-called progressive elements on the rise in Wisconsin politics. They looked forward to reaching a wholesome, simpleminded audience that would appreciate their anti-government patter between songs. Also, they’d never been to a real rodeo.
Buck Nance and the Brawlers performed eight songs and were well-received, their barbed commentary drawing laughs and even some applause. After the gig Bradley dislocated a shoulder when one of the cowboys let him throw a rope on a calf, but the other brothers bought him a sling at Walgreens and dosed him with painkillers. Two nights later they opened at a shrimp festival in Biloxi, and two nights after that they were playing a Masonic lodge near Stone Mountain, Georgia.
Matthew’s bold prediction was coming true: The band caught fire on the biker-and-Bible circuit. The Rombergs traded their Dodge minivan for a second-hand Winnebago, and said goodbye to Whitefish Bay. During the next twenty years they returned only once, to attend the funeral of their father. The old man had suffered a massive heart attack during an ice storm while covertly trying to scrape an “Obama for President” bumper sticker from a smug neighbor’s Audi.
The election of a black president brought a boom in TV reality shows featuring feisty rednecks, and talent scouts began scouring the Dixie belt in a fevered search for the next
Duck Dynasty
franchise. Buck Nance and the Brawlers were discovered at a Howard Johnson’s off the interstate near Chattanooga, playing a toned-down set for a Catholic bachelorette party. They were flown business-class to Los Angeles for a meeting at Platinum Artists with Jon David Ampergrodt, who pronounced the Romberg brothers “perfect” except for their superior dental work. He promised them fame and wealth, presented a two-year management contract and sent them by limousine to a Malibu orthodontist to get their front teeth darkened and chipped. Matthew was allowed to keep the stage name of Buck while his brothers chose their own from a list of homespun monikers provided by the agency.
The transition from obscure regional musicians to wildly popular television stars put a strain on the brothers’ fraternal bond. From the beginning, the creators of
Bayou Brethren
felt the show should revolve around the colorful Buck character and the iron-willed Krystal. Inevitably resentment took root among the other family members—Junior, Buddy and
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