ABSTRACT
Wynn Stewart was a short, peppy little man with a huge voice. It had few subtle shadings; just lung power and soul. Those who worked with him still shake their heads and say they can’t figure out why it didn’t quite happen for him. Had he lived, it’s tempting to think that his role as an architect of West Coast country music would have been recognized and he could have renewed and sustained his career much as Buck Owens and Merle Haggard have done. It’s just as likely, though, that he would have been denied airplay, and would be playing occasional stints in Branson, Missouri—close to where he is now buried.
