THE FINAL RESTING PLACE — HAROLD REID’S LAST HOMECOMING IN STAUNTON, VIRGINIA
In the gentle hills of Staunton, Virginia, where country roads curve through quiet fields and memories linger like a hymn, Harold Reid found his eternal peace. It was here, in the very place where The Statler Brothers’ story first began, that one of country music’s most beloved voices fell silent.
On April 24, 2020, at the age of 80, Harold Reid — the deep, resonant bass who anchored America’s harmonies for decades — passed away after a long and private battle with kidney failure. The news came softly, without spectacle, just as Harold himself might have preferred. Surrounded by his family, his hometown, and the stillness of Virginia spring, his journey came to a close exactly where it began: at home.
For those who knew him, Harold was far more than the booming bass voice that defined The Statler Brothers. He was the storyteller, the humorist, the steady soul behind the songs that carried millions through love, loss, and laughter. His wit and warmth shone through on and off the stage — whether in timeless performances like “Flowers on the Wall”, “Bed of Roses”, or “Do You Know You Are My Sunshine,” or in quiet conversations that revealed his deep faith and unwavering humility.
The Statlers’ journey — from church quartets in Staunton to the heights of the Grand Ole Opry — was built on friendship and faith as much as fame. And through it all, Harold’s bass voice served as both anchor and compass. It grounded every harmony, reminded every listener where the truth of a song really lived — not in perfection, but in sincerity.
When the group retired from touring in 2002, Harold embraced life away from the spotlight with the same grace that had guided his career. He spent his final years surrounded by family, by the town that raised him, and by the simple blessings that fame had never replaced — laughter, storytelling, and the joy of remembering.
His brother Don Reid, and fellow Statlers Phil Balsley and Jimmy Fortune, each spoke of him not just as a bandmate, but as a brother in every sense. “Harold taught us how to be Statlers,” Don once said. “He taught us that it’s not the applause that matters — it’s the truth in the song.”
Today, in Staunton’s quiet countryside, where church bells still ring on Sunday mornings and the hills carry echoes of old harmonies, Harold’s presence lingers. You can almost hear it — that low, familiar rumble at the edge of a chorus, steady as ever.
Though his voice is gone, its echo remains — in every Statler song, in every fan’s memory, and in every heart that still hums along.
For a man who gave his life to harmony, Harold Reid’s final resting place could not be more fitting: a small Virginia hill, wrapped in silence, surrounded by the music he helped create — and by the love that never left.