Sad Elvis

In the busy entertainment district of Nashville, you see them.  Large caricatures of Elvis Presley in front of storefronts, just waiting for a boozy tourist to stop and snap a photo and post it on their Facebook page.  The microphone that he apparently was singing into is gone, but Elvis is still there, chained down around his waist so he can’t be taken away.

We’ve had controversies about young Elvis and old Elvis.  Rebel Elvis and Las Vegas Elvis.  Thin, leather-clad Elvis and fat, jumpsuit-wearing and karate-chopping Elvis.

This, I think, is a picture of sad Elvis.

I’ve never been a huge Elvis Presley fan, but anyone who loves rock ‘n roll has got to tip their hat to The King.  There’s no doubt the Elvis Presley changed the world and revolutionized America when he started to sing blues music and swing those hips.  He inspired the Beatles and lots of other acts and left an enormous imprint on American music and culture.  His death was pathetic, but there is no denying his vast and enduring influence.

Now, on the streets of Nashville, the King is reduced to a fiberglass photo opportunity, like Ronald McDonald or a T-Rex or Paul Bunyon.  It’s disturbing, and it’s wrong.  There’s something forlorn and almost despairing about it that a few brightly colored balloons tied to his wrist won’t hide.

Poor Elvis!

Old Brick Beauty

Lit from beneath, the faded paint from a long ago sign on the side of a brick building adjacent to one of the pedestrian bridges in Nashville seemed to almost glow when we walked across last night. The worn and repaired brick, the old wood in the windows and door, the paint — it was an example of how beauty can be found even in the most ordinary settings.  Amazing what a little light can accomplish!

The High-Water Mark

The Cumberland River flows through downtown Nashville.  There’s a little park on the downtown side of the river where you will finds lots of concrete steps, people still shaking off last night’s overindulgence — and a literal high-water mark.  It’s hard to believe the river reaches such heights, but in 2010 the Cumberland topped the high-water mark entirely and crested at 51.86 feet, causing catastrophic flooding that swamped the area.  The river was a lot lower, thankfully, when we visited yesterday morning.

Nashville Dans La Nuit

For a city located smack dab in the midst of middle America, Nashville is pretty damned cool.  In addition to the music scene, which you probably knew about already, Nashville has some great bridges.  The footbridge from the Bridge Building over the Cumberland to downtown not only affords you an excellent view of other bridges, it also is a striking bridge in its own right.

American cities would do well to turn all unused railroad bridges into pedestrian footpaths.  They’re irresistible.

Bachelorettesville

Nashville must be the top bachelorette party destination east of the Mississippi.  You see the bachelorette groups everywhere — pedaling together to power the bicycle bars heading down Broadway, slamming down Jell-O shots, singing along with the band at the Honky Tonk Saloon, and whooping it up on the sidewalk — and always smartly attired in matching shirts and hats with clever slogans about love or being drunk, and sometimes both.  As soon as one group leaves, another bachelorette band arrives to take its place.

Why is Nashville such a popular bachelorette destination?  Well, why not? It’s got lots of saloons and live music and drink specials and pedal bars and all of the features of a modern bachelorette fantasy.  And let’s just say that the ladies we saw were taking full advantage of the chance to cut loose, starting bright and early and hitting it hard.  They were having fun in the bride-to-be’s last hurrah.

I’m guessing that what happens in Nashville stays in Nashville.

Moonshine

The bar where we ate dinner last night was very well-stocked, but I paused for a minute at the serious collection of jars — until I realized it was all moonshine.  Well, we are in Tennessee, after all, eating in a place called The Stillery, and there wasn’t a revenuer in sight.

The moonshine came in lots of different flavors, like “apple pie.”  I’m sure many party-hearty visitors to Nashville have figured they should guzzle some shine to make their visit fully authentic . . . and then came to regret it the next morning.  I wasn’t tempted.  In college I learned my lesson well that drinking fruity concoctions where the Kool-Aid-like flavoring serves only to mask the crushing alcoholic content isn’t a wise course of personal conduct — especially when it’s served from what appears to be a garbage pail.  

With an inward nod to Granny Clampett, I let the white lightning pass and stuck to a beer.

Mac And Hot

I’ve become a big fan of hot chicken.  Nashville is supposed to be the home of hot chicken — or at least one of them — so when Kish and I set out to find a suitable dining venue last night, I kept the poultry option firmly in the back of my mind.  By sheer happenstance, we stumbled upon a place called The Stillery, plopped down at the bar, and checked out the menu.

One of The Stillery’s takes on hot chicken is hot chicken over macaroni and cheese. The bartender gave it an enthusiastic endorsement, and she was right on the money.  Served on a spitting hot skillet, the spicy chicken and creamy mac ‘n cheese complemented each other perfectly.  It’s one of the best dishes I’ve had in a while.  The Gerst Amber Ale was pretty good, too.

Columbus Songwriters Association

Last night Kish and I joined our friends Dr. Science and the Bionic Half-Marathoner for the Columbus Songwriters Association Finale Showcase at Notes.  We were there to see their son, Jack, compete with more than a dozen other local songwriters.

It was also our introduction to the Columbus Songwriters Association, an interesting organization that says a lot about what our city has to offer.  The CSA seeks to nurture and support the creative impulses of lots of homegrown musicians, by doing things like hosting Songwriter Showcase events where the musicians get to perform live at venues like Notes.  The ultimate goal of the CSA is to make Columbus into a music city, like Nashville.  It’s a worthy goal, because any great city needs vibrant music and arts scenes.  In that regard, we thought it was pretty cool that we walked to the CSA Finale Showcase directly after leaving a great performance of La Boheme by Opera Columbus, which meant that we touched very different points on the live music spectrum in the space of just a few downtown blocks.

At last night’s event, 19 different musicians performed their own songs before an overflow crowd that jammed the club.  After each song, audience members completed evaluation cards for each performer.  The cards were eventually collected and counted, along with the reactions of a panel of judges, to decide who made it to round two.  Although we had to hit the road before the second round began, participating in the first round was a lot of fun and showed that Columbus has a lot of budding musical talent.  We particularly liked Jack, of course, but I also want to mention Maya Mougey, a teenager who showed tremendous poise in playing guitar and singing a song she wrote about losing touch with her sister who had moved on to high school.  We sat next to what looked like a table of her friends who cheered like crazy for her when she was finished, and we did, too.

Art Deco Dumpatorium

The Hermitage Hotel in downtown Nashville has a fabulous lobby, but it is most well-known for having a jazzy, art deco men’s room one floor down.  Seriously . . . guide books alert you to the restroom, and advise that, if it is not currently in use, women are permitted to go in to take in the  (ahem) atmosphere.  Sure, enough, Kish wanted to take a peek.

It’s a very attractive bathroom, I suppose, but a bathroom is, after all, a bathroom.  Green urinals, old-fashioned phones, and shoe shining stands don’t change the essential purpose of the room.  And ladies, speaking as someone who has been in countless men’s rooms, I can tell you that this is as good as it gets.

Neon Nashville Night

I knew Nashville held itself out as the Music City, and the home of country music.  I had no idea, however, that it was a place where middle America came to get tanked.

On Broadway, about 8 blocks from our hotel, is a riotous collection of bars, music venues, karaoke joints, t-shirt salons, and cowboy boot emporiums, all lit up like a Christmas tree against the Nashville night sky.  Throng of red-faced, boot-wearing folks crowd the sidewalks and jam into the bars, swilling beer and listening to an unknown group — some very good, some not so — do covers of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Jimmy Buffett, and Eric Clapton tunes.  On our walk tonight we saw bachelorette parties, rednecks ready to brawl, and families with kids, all ready to take in that Nashville ambiance.

With all the neon and motorcycles and crowds out on the streets, it reminded me somewhat of American Graffiti.  To complete the image, we saw a sign warning that there was to be “no cruising” from 9 p.m. to 3 a.m.

Cocktail Hour Down South

Last night Kish and I visited the Patterson House because Kish wanted to try a bacon-infused Old Fashioned, pictured above.  The drink is made with Benton bacon-infused Four Roses bourbon, maple syrup, and pecan coffee bitters.  Kish said it was “delish!”

The Patterson House is an amazing place that shows you what a cocktail lounge could be like if people just worked at it.  It’s dark and quiet, with music playing in the background at just the right volume.  Access is controlled, so you don’t have a bunch of people crowding in at the bar, shouting their orders.  As a result, you actually can have a conversation, which isn’t possible at most bars I’ve been to recently.  The place offers some well-made, lighter fare food options, too, to balance the alcohol consumption.

The bartenders and waiters clearly take great pride in their appearance and their craft.  They work hard to make the perfect drink, and their list of drink options shows the kind of attention to detail that makes that goal feasible.  From the spherical ice cubes to the vigorous shaking to the careful placement of an orange peel, this is the place to come if you want to savor a well-made drink and some pleasant conversation.

Like The Dark Knight’s Cowl

I don’t know whether the AT&T building in Nashville was intended to remind people of a certain Gotham City superhero, but it definitely had that impact on me.

If only a neighboring building resembled The Boy Wonder!

Athens On The Cumberland

Our travels through Nashville yesterday took us past Centennial Park, and as we looked over we saw . . . the Parthenon.

Yes, in the middle of Centennial Park there is a full-scale replica of the Parthenon, the crown jewel of the Acropolis in ancient Athens.  The Nashville replica is supposed to be complete and accurate in every detail, including the statue of Athena inside.  The Nashville Parthenon also houses an art museum.

I didn’t go inside to see Athena — the presence of groups of schoolkids seemed to promise a less than pleasant experience for a hefty $6 price tag — but I did walk around the structure, which is being refurbished.  It’s a pretty cool thing to find in the middle of an American city.

Walking In The Troubling Footsteps Of Old Hickory

Yesterday Kish and I went to the Hermitage, the plantation home of Andrew Jackson.  It is conveniently located within the footprint of metropolitan Nashville, and it’s well worth a visit — both to learn a bit more about one of our Presidents, but also to spend some time pondering the imponderable question of why any American, much less a President, thought it was acceptable to own slaves.

Andrew Jackson’s grave

The Hermitage consists of a large brick pillared and porticoed plantation home and its grounds, an adjoining garden in which Jackson and members of his family are buried, and a series of walking paths that take you to other places and buildings on the plantation grounds, some of which are still standing and some of which are visible only in the form of foundations traced on the ground.

The main building is beautiful and well-preserved, with original wallpaper, lighting fixtures, and furnishings.  You can see Jackson’s study, his bed and his chamber pot, the weekly newspapers he read and bound in large books and the room where he died.  You can hear from the friendly guides wearing period costume about the house and Jackson’s family and his love for his wife and their adoption of their son.  You can visit his grave in a beautiful garden, where Old Hickory lies beneath a small Greek dome.

One of the slave cabins at the Hermitage

The real impact of the tour for us, however, didn’t occur until we walked away from the main building and its well-kept grounds and began touring the fields and outbuildngs, where Jackson’s slaves toiled.  Jackson eventually owned 150 slaves who did the real work on the plantation.  They planted and picked cotton and operated the cotton gin that Jackson built, churned butter, tended the horses, mucked out the stables, and cooked the meals.  Little is known about them, and when you walk back to the area where the slaves lived and see photos of their lost possessions that preservationists have uncovered, you cannot help but feel an immense sadness and anger.

I commend that Hermitage for making a significant effort to cast light on the fact that one of our most famous Presidents was a large slaveholder who bought and sold slaves as chattel and achieved wealth through their uncompensated labors.  He may not have been the cruelest master in the Old South, but he somehow rationalized the ownership of fellow human beings.  That simple fact, for me, makes the rest of the Jackson story a lot less relevant.

Years after Jackson’s death, during the midst of the Civil War, the Union Army captured Nashville and slaves were free to leave.  The vast majority of the slaves on the Hermitage plantation promptly left, choosing an uncertain future over continued interaction with their former masters.  That tells you all you need to know about slavery.

BBQ World

Nashville boasts having the best barbecue in the world.  Today for lunch Kish and I went to Edley’s Barbecue, a local landmark, to test that claim.

Edley’s one of those places that is crowded even at 1:30 p.m., where you stand in line for 15 minutes to place your order but don’t mind because the place smells so good.  After you order, you take a number, find a table, clear away any debris left by prior diners, and wait with lip-smacking anticipation for a server to find you with your grub.

I got the “pork platter,” which included a mound of moist, tender barbecued pork, a grilled slab of cornbread, and mac and cheese and grits casserole for sides.  It left me spluttering and speechless.

I don’t know whether Nashville is the BBQ capital of the world, but it’s in the competition.