Nashville Dreams

Notes from Margo:

We looked in the barroom door at one guy's dream: A young man played guitar and sang country music in a Broadway honky-tonk in Nashville. But the music had the hard edge of sound waves bouncing off bare wood and brick walls, not being softened and absorbed by the gentle contours of an appreciative crowd. Maybe six people were listening, scattered widely among dozens of empty hardwood tables. It was weird. He's living his dream; he's on stage in Nashville. But it probably didn't look quite like that in his dream. I think I see the material for a country song.

When we arrived in Nashville, we went directly to the Country Music Hall of Fame, where we saw Bill Monroe's mandolin (with Lynn, at right), Willie Nelson's bandanna, and Jimmie Rodgers' guitar (below). My favorite was film clips of old-time country stars, like Patsy Montana singing "I Want To Be a Cowboy's Sweetheart" and the white Jordanaires harmonizing on a black gospel song, "Working on a Building." Lynn loved the little newsnotes – Baldemar Huerta took the name Freddy Fender, maybe to sound more Anglo; and Harold Lloyd Jenkins changed his name to Conway Twitty, maybe to sound more ... what? Ridiculous? Authentic? Backwoods?

Then we headed to downtown Nashville to see the real hard-scratch musicians of today. The clubs were mostly blaring really loud music. We poked our heads into the one club with the gentle beckoning sound of a single voice accompanied by a solo guitar. That's where we had that terrible feeling of someone living the dream that wasn't quite what he had dreamed.

We talked to a busker, Mike Slusser, who sang us a Jimmie Rodgers song, "It's Peach-Picking Time in Georgia," and accompanied himself on the mandolin (the world's sexiest instrument). His Gibson top was terribly scratched up. It was worn right through, he explained, from hard use – 17,000 hours of busking on the streets of Nashville and elsewhere. We put a few bucks in his case, and he insisted that we take a CD of his music.

Broadway and Second Avenue are crowded with bars and honky-tonks, but they are outnumbered by shops selling cowboy boots and hats. The music venues aren't the only places where sound waves bounce off the walls without hitting paying customers. Every store had signs out: "50% Off" or "Buy one pair, get a second pair free." One store is offering TWO free pairs. Too bad I didn't want a $1,900 pair of pointy American-made, embroidered, snakeskin boots. There were deals to be had.

The hotels must also be hurting. I went into a Comfort Inn to find how much it would cost. While Lynn and I mulled our options in the car, the desk guy actually came out to the car and flipped through a coupon book for us that would take $10 off the already discounted price he had quoted me. The bill: $59 plus $11 tax. He extolled the virtues of his hotel – the free breakfast, free internet, much nicer rooms than the competitors, safer neighborhood, free parking. OK. OK. We stayed there, and a good choice it was. I'm going to guess that's the only jacuzzi we'll see this trip.

Mileage from Verona, Virginia, to Nashville, Tennessee: 516

Mileage so far: 8,218