Photography by Yuvie Styles
Marty Ray sits on the large gray and white chair caressing her ukulele as if she was the godmother of the instrument. She’s not the intimidating type, but you can tell she’s been here long enough for everyone to respect her.
With a comb in hand, she begins floofing her hair as a “touch up” before all eyes are on her as she tells the origin of the Uke-A-Ladies.
Twenty years ago, Ray met Terri Stone as part of the White Rock Lake Artist Studio Tour (an annual art event where visual artists gather, created by Ray). They instantly bonded over their love for music. Stone played this, Ray played that, one liked this music, the other liked that and after a while, they began playing together and eventually bought ukuleles for rehearsals.
Why they chose to buy a ukulele isn’t certain, as Ray says it was a long time ago, but who cares. It was an easy instrument to play and they were no Tiny Tim.
Nothing was serious. They were just having fun. It wasn’t until 2009 that a third music enthusiast, Dana Smith, was adopted by the two, which led to the trio rehearsing in the back of Ray’s home regularly. Later, Ray’s husband Richard, a professional musician, wandered in one day and said, “Hey, y’all should be a band … y’all were playing something really good.”
A spark was lit, and the three founding mothers Terri, Dana and Ray spawned a ukulele group that would later become known as the East Dallas Uke-A-Ladies.
Back then, “none of them were good,” Ray says with a laugh, “but you play with your passion.”
Around 2015, Teresa Bond also began taking ukulele lessons from Noel Tardy – the original Ukulele Lady of Dallas – in the Bath House Cultural Center operating as a ukulele shop. At that time it was the only ukulele specialty store in Texas that offered free beginner classes, workshops and special guest performances. It became a music haven for ukulele lovers, but after Tardy’s unexpected death, the store was at risk of going away.
Bond didn’t want to see something like this ukulele shop disappear, so in 2017, she connected with the other three women and started Uke-a-Palooza.
What began as a less than a handful of women having fun just taking Ukulele lessons at the Bath House Cultural Center has transitioned to a group of 11, 10 women — and Bob, who are a combination of amateurs and “real” musicians.
The Uke-A-Ladies — and Bob, the Uke-A-Lad — were ready to win over our neighborhood with their cheerful strums, catchy tunes and contagious dance moves. When you watch them play, you can’t help but be affected by their endearing Southern charm and playful charisma on the ukulele. Audiences find themselves four hours later wondering, “How did this become so fun? How can I join them?”
Every year at the bathhouse in June, the Uke-A-Ladies provide free ukulele lessons to around 100 people of all ages. The ukulele group is known to play classics like “Bye Bye Blue Eyes,” “Forever Young” and “I Feel Fine.” They have played at private events, homes and on their lawns during the pandemic and on holidays.
While the ukulele band might appear official with their logo, numerous appearances in the neighborhood and a massive presence on Facebook, they don’t want to be mixed up with the professionals, because they are far from it, Stone jokes.
Uke-a-Palooza has no age limit, it’s open to all willing to let loose and have fun without judgment of being good or bad.
“We are not a professional group, we are not a performance group either,” Bond says. “We play because we want to have fun and that’s our whole thing.”
They’ve been there for each other through it all. From the pandemic to knee surgeries, cancer diagnosis, hip and shoulder replacements, movings and big accomplishments, Uke-A-Ladies is a community.
Every Sunday from 2 to 4 p.m. the group meets to rehearse at Bond’s house, where her dog Boudreaux, their unofficial mascot, plays bass with his treats while the ladies and Bob sing songs such as “Three Little Birds,” “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’” and “We’re Going To Be Friends.”
While they rehearse, “Betsy” — a colorful ukulele named after a former Uke-A-Lady who moved to Wisconsin — lies at the center table of the women to ensure her spirit is still with them, despite Betsy thinking they were terrible in the beginning.
To ensure everything sounds correct, Dallas ISD music teacher Angie Livesay runs the song until satisfied, dancing, strumming and having a sing-off with Julia Gibson, who has been playing the ukulele for years. Everyone sways and taps a foot to catch the rhythm, sometimes they’ll get off track or miss a strum, but they’ll either laugh it off or just keep going.
That’s the beauty of the ukulele. When you play, it’s not meant to be intimidating like other instruments. It’s a tool that embraces imperfection, so much so that it seems almost purposeful, the women remind the audience.
“Ladies — and Bob,” Bond says, “let’s start from the beginning.”
Although it may look easy strumming four chords, it’s a lot of work.
“Ukulele is the topic but the big thing about us is the singing. There’s a couple of people in our group who don’t necessarily sing,” Ray says as she looks over at Terri and the two laugh.
“And we don’t care how we sound,” Bond adds.
Some in the group sing, some just mouth along, others belt, a few harmonize, and everyone is doing and playing in their own world.
And you’re never too young or too old to learn how to play, Ray says, recalling the time she taught a 90-year-old woman how to play.
“It’s fun for me to see these distinct ladies, I mean really accomplished, independent, incredible, successful, beautiful, wonderful women who are now expanding into a different genre in music,” Bond says.
“It’s kind of funny because it’s very different for all of us, like we’re just pushing the edge of continuing to learn [and] pushing new mediums as we age.”
