Getting here brings about fetching anticipation. The drive when fall color dominates makes it an emotionally enlightened sojourn. Conversely, the trip is not so ordinary before the chlorophyll does its thing to bring about a signature excursion at the peak of fall color.
Taking a brief respite in Music City heightens the spirits. “Lazying” about the city’s downtown is highly recommended. Attractive honky-tonks hold sway, historical buildings have maintained their charm and appeal; art galleries, boutique hotels, and chef-driven restaurants have emerged in abundance—all giving Nashville an electric atmosphere that is alluring and arresting. Nashville will make your day even if you are in a foul mood.
My first trip here was in my college years to experience first-hand a Southeastern Conference road trip. I read the Vanderbilt media guide in detail and learned about the institution’s storied past. The first impression from that journey was that the Vanderbilt constituency was as hospitable as it could possibly be.
I walked by the iconic Ryman Auditorium on 5th Avenue and marveled at the long lines of country music aficionados waiting to be admitted for the 9:00 P.M. performance of the Grand Ole Opry.
Years later I was connected to a poignant and humorous Ryman episode, which remains indelible in my memory. Gus Manning, supervisor of football ticket sales at the University of Tennessee and a devout country music fan, arranged to meet the plump, middle-aged lady who managed the ticket operation for the Opry. He had a score of questions about how the Ryman staff handled ticket issues.
After Gus had peppered her with several questions, she caused an abrupt halt when she said in her mountain vernacular: “Mr. Manning, we don’t have no ticket problems ‘round here, ‘cept them what sits on comps.” Nothing could be more poignant—those with free tickets are the ones who carp and bellyache the most.
Nashville was, for years, a laid-back, relatively small city that was really a sleeping giant as we now know. It was known far and wide for the Grand Ole Opry which continues to flourish at Opryland,12 miles from the downtown Ryman. The artist, who is credited with founding country music as we know it today, was “Fiddlin’ John Carson” of Atlanta. He recorded the first country album in 1923 and was the grandfather of John Carson, a gifted four-sport athlete at the University of Georgia. Would you believe that “Fiddlin’ John” has never been inducted into the country music Hall of Fame?
The Hermitage, the home of Andrew Jackson, is one of the many historical sites in the Nashville area. There is a winery, Natchez Hills, on the property but it seems out-of-place. Anyone familiar with the life and times of “Old Hickory,” would not expect him to have a reputation as a connoisseur of wine. In his time, our 7th President was more into genuine whiskey. He made and sold the hard stuff and also drank a lot of his handiwork.
You likely are aware of the fact that as Nashville virtually exploded as the 20th century was coming to an end, that the city attracted a National Football League franchise, the Titans, and also one in the National Hockey League, the Predators.
Carrie Underwood, the country star, married a hockey player, Canadian Mike Fisher. The wedding, however, took place at Lake Oconee, just South of Athens.
Nashville’s choice of nickname for its team has a stunning impact when you connect with its history. Archeologists, during a downtown construction project, discovered remains of a saber-toothed tiger that became extinct 10,000 years ago. (Will tattoos ever go the way of the saber-toothed tiger?)
When WSM Radio was granted an FM-broadcasting license, Nashville became the first city in the country to enjoy that FM distinction. It was that signal which brought Roy Acuff, Eddy Arnold and Minnie Pearl to our screen porch in Middle Georgia in my youth.
Martha White Flour, now owned by Pillsbury, remains an Opry sponsor, but many of the old stars are gone including Little Jimmy Dickens who never failed to tell his preferred story about a man going to the doctor with a hearing problem. After examining the ear, the doc said, “No wonder you can’t hear—there is a suppository in here.”
“Thanks, Doc,” little Jimmy replied. Now I know where I put my hearing aid.”