Tennessee

Lower Broad, Nashville

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Dawn on Lower Broad, Nashville

On a recent trip home to Nashville, we got up-and-out before dawn to cruise Nashville’s Lower Broad. I wanted to see the neon and what had become of my favorite old buildings along this four-block stretch that is the nation’s newest hotspot.

Lower Broadway honky tonk neon nashville TN
Looking down Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.
Lower Broadway honky tonk neon nashville TN
The lights of Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Hub of Nashville

This stretch of Broadway, down by the Cumberland River docks, used to be all about the business of living. Throughout the 1800s, grand bank buildings, hardware stores, grocers, clothing shops, and warehouses went up on Broadway to serve the boomtown. Ornate churches, Union Station, and Hume-Fogg High School came up too. And in the Great Depression, Federal assistance programs built the Post Office. For many years, Broadway was a hub of Nashville.

Acme Feed Seed Nashville TN
Riverfront warehouse, built in the late1880s, home to Acme Feed & Seed. Nashville, Tennessee. 
Old American National Bank building facade. Lower Broad. Nashville, Tenn.
Originally six stories, the American National Bank building (built in 1883) was demolished down to the facade in the 1970s. For years it was the Broadway Boot Company with a similar neon sign. Now it is the entry facade to a bar. Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Then came music

The Grand Ole Opry moved into the Ryman Auditorium in 1943. The country music radio shows still broadcast nationwide every Friday and Saturday on WSM 650. Lower Broadway filled with honky tonks. Tootsies Orchid Lounge harbored country music legends who’d just finished performing at the Ryman and slipped through the alley into the bar’s backdoor for a night cap. Record stores, boot companies, sequined clothing shops, poster printers, restaurants, and tourist trinket shops popped up in Lower Broad’s empty warehouses and shuttered bank buildings. Music-star wannabes wandered over from the Greyhound station with their guitars to busk and be discovered along the busy Lower Broad sidewalks.

Painted Lawrence Record Shop mural sign. Nashville, TN
Lawrence Record Shop sign. Nashville, Tennessee.
Tootsies Orchid Lounge lower Broad Nashville, TN
Tootsies Orchid Lounge. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Demise:  Abandoned to “Urban Renewal”

In 1974, the Grand Ole Opry moved out of the Ryman and Lower Broad began her descent. A fight raged over whether to demolish the Ryman Auditorium. Adult bookstores, smoke shops, and liquor stores filled the growing number of abandoned buildings. Lower Broad became a dirty, dangerous place to be. I remember riding with my grandfather to pick up my aunt from work at the South Central Bell building around the corner on Second Avenue. The area was creepy, dark and cave-like between the big buildings. We’d wait with the doors locked and the windows barely cracked. I wish now that I’d asked him about his memories of the area and made some photographs. It’s just vague memories now.

In the 1990s, Lower Broad began to turn around. People began to recognize the value of the area’s history. Some buildings were saved. Many were not…destroyed in fires or “urban renewal” projects. Here’s hoping their pre-country-music neon histories are remembered.

Shelby Street Bridge over the Cumberland Nashville TN
My hometown. Shelby Street Bridge over the Cumberland and the Nashville, Tennessee skyline, 2019. 

 

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Road trip: Nashville to Cherokee

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THE day was here. Breakfast dishes were done and the house was locked up. The car packed and the rearview mirror arranged. Seat belts on. It was time. We snapped a selfie, posted it to Instagram, and backed out of the driveway. It was 7:20 a.m. on Thursday, October 19, and my mother and I were on our way. It was Day One of our seven-week USA road trip.

Lucy & Carol in the car, just a moment before our 7:20 a.m. departure
Lucy & Carol in the car, just a moment before our 7:20 a.m. departure. October 19, 2017.

October 19. Starting mileage: 29,950.

The plan was to go South on backroads down to Estill Springs and then cut East on more backroads, turning North into North Carolina for the Smoky Mountains and Cherokee where we had a reservation for the night.

It was a perfect day for a drive with a Tennessee October-crisp temperature and brilliant sunshine. And it was the perfect time to take a trip. For the last few months, we’d debated, dreamed, deliberated, and finally decided to do it. My last day at work had been an auspicious Friday, October 13 and just a few days after, I’d flown to Tennessee to make final preparations with my mom, Lucy. And now, here we were, on the route. High hopes, nervous energy, a few nagging worries about costs and routes and places to stay, and an awakening feeling of release and relief. We were on our way!

First, Estill Springs

Estill Springs was our first stop. It had to be. It was the place the two of us used to go on annual vacations when money was tight. Years ago, friends of my mom lived there in a nice house surrounded by woods. I have no idea where in Estill Springs their house was. But it felt remote, exotic. Mama and I would always sleep in their attic guest bedroom, eat delicious home-cooked meals in the screened-in porch, and walk among those tall pines. They had a dog, and a boy a little younger than me. We’d play in the woods, ride bikes, and set up little towns to drive Matchbox cars around. I’m not sure how long we stayed on these trips–could have been a long weekend, or a week. Time seemed to relax and spread out a little. Estill Springs is not that far from Nashville. But just like those old vacations, it took a while to get there. We arrived to nothing that looked familiar, and snapped a few shots in front of the only thing we could find that said Estill Springs, the City Hall. And unlike those old vacations, today we kept going.

Lucy at Estill Springs City Hall
Lucy at Estill Springs City Hall.

 

Onward

I’d gone old school for this trip. The very day Lucy said, “Ok, I’ll go,” I walked to the local travel garb store and bought an oversized Road Atlas, complete with special entries for all the National Parks. In the six weeks from “Ok, I’ll go” to “GO!”, I’d been plotting our course, studying the map, and jotting notes for backroads to other backroads to landmarks and destinations. I intended to bypass the bland major highways as much as possible–though I realized that the interstates were necessary time savers. So, after a few hours of driving old Tennessee roads past fields and cows, and getting twisted up from my written directions, we got on I-24 going southeast. By then, it was time for lunch. And we weren’t even one-third of the way to Cherokee.

Country Road, Tennessee
Country Road, Tennessee.
Fields & Power Lines, Tennessee
Fields and power lines, Tennessee.

 

As moms will do, Lucy had packed lunch. We stopped at the Nickajack Reservoir – Ladds Rest Area for a picnic. I’ve never seen a prettier rest stop. It was a little island, peaceful. We took our time, letting it all soak in–the warm October sunshine, the reservoir view, the homemade pimento cheese, and the fact that we were on the trip of a lifetime. Even now, that hour at the rest stop is one of my most vivid memories of the trip.

At Ladds Rest Area, Nickajack Reservoir, near Jasper, TN
At Ladds Rest Area, an island in the Nickajack Reservoir, near Jasper, TN.
Ocoee River Scenic View, Tennessee
Ocoee River Scenic View, Tennessee.

 

Cherokee, NC

We drove on, and on, and on. Stopping here and there for photos…like at the Ocoee River. Mama knew how to say it–“o-CO-ee”.  And when it rolled off her tongue, I remembered that I used to know that. I repeated it out loud and a hundred more times in my head. Just like the time she told me the Obey River near Celina is said “O-bee”–but that’s another story for another day.

Eventually we drove into North Carolina, and found our hotel in Cherokee just before dark.

This first night tested us. There was the checking in and getting a key that didn’t work. And then there was the unloading–lots of suitcases, a bag of food, and a cooler. We discovered we wanted to do different things. We both worried about the money. And we’d lost an hour of daylight moving from Central to Eastern time zone. Lucy wanted to see the casino. I wanted to go into the Smokies. But it was silly money to park at the casino and then there were no spaces. And it was too dark to drive up into the mountains. We were hungry and didn’t know where to go to eat–couldn’t even decide what we wanted. We settled on a cheap fast food dinner and early turn-in. Of all the nights for rambunctious kids to be anywhere near me, they were in the room above ours–jumping on their beds and screaming until we–at last–heard water running and their mom call “Bath time!” If playtime continued after bath time, I didn’t hear it.

October 20.  Starting mileage 30,238.

The next morning after loading up, we stopped for a buffet breakfast with pancakes. Buoyed by the comfort food and a fresh day starting far from our routines, we idled around Cherokee. We wandered around an old stone church, noted that the street signs were in Cherokee and English, and poked around a few souvenir shops. Years and years ago, I remember coming to the Smoky Mountains with both Mama and Daddy. I don’t think the souvenir options have changed much in all that time–play tomahawks, tiny doll papooses, suede moccasins, and little hand-carved trinkets, alongside boiled peanuts, birdhouses, and mesmerizing spinning yard ornaments and wind chimes.

After a couple of hours dallying around Cherokee, we headed north for Washington D.C. Yes, we’d like more time in Cherokee–to see the old settlements in Cherokee Nation, play at the casino, and use the National Park pass to see the Smoky Mountains. But the sun was out, our worries lifted, and today’s long road stretched out before us.

In Cherokee, North Carolina, road signs are in Cherokee and English.
In Cherokee Nation, NC road signs are in Cherokee and English. In the early 1800s, Sequoyah began creating a system of writing the spoken Cherokee language. Today, the Cherokee language is “severely endangered” in North Carolina, and “definitely endangered” in Oklahoma according to UNESCO. 
Four of the Seven Clans of Cherokee.
Four of the Seven Clans of Cherokee. The seven clans:  Wolf, Deer, Blue, Long Hair, Wild Potato, Bird, and Paint. 🙂 The names alone explain some things!
The first of many times we saw scorched trees. Cherokee, NC
The first of many times we saw scorched trees. Cherokee, NC.
Leaving Cherokee Nation. October 20, 2017.
Leaving Cherokee Nation. October 20, 2017.
A valley somewhere in the Southern Appalachians, NC to D.C.
A valley somewhere in the Southern Appalachians, NC to D.C.
Tennessee map: Our highlighted route from Nashville to NC
Tennessee map: Our highlighted route from Nashville to NC.
North Carolina Map: Our route from TN to Cherokee, NC.
North Carolina detail map: Our route from TN into Cherokee, NC.

Uncle Willie

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We lost one today.  A 90-year-old link to the past.  My Uncle Willie.  He remembered the stories, the old stories…of his grandparents moving across Tennessee when TVA flooded their valley, of the hungry Indians coming to their door asking for food when no one had any.  He was married twice, seven kids.  And alone at the end.

His house sits on brick-o-blocks.  On a back road, off a back road, in a forgotten part of Tennessee.  Not even a house number.   It’s the same house he’s lived in for 60 years or more.

Every winter morning, he went to his front porch and got wood for the cast iron stove that heated the house.  Everyday he wore overalls, sipped his coffee, scraped his plate and looked out the window into the back field, the field where his cows used to graze.  His voice grew quiet, raspy, from lack of talking.

Every Saturday he drove 40 miles to go dancing.  He had several pairs of cowboy boots for “the dancing”, each pair still kept in the original plastic wrap and box.

Uncle Willie was a dreamer, sentimental.  He kept the family photos, the old Bible.  He talked about the photos, the old times.  His blue eyes twinkled and he grinned, a mischievous smile.  Maybe in his mind he was still 21.

He wanted a woman’s touch, her attention.  Someone at the dances.  He kept her photo on a shelf by the door.  No one had met her.  He built an addition on his house.  Something to do, maybe.  It was for her, maybe.  It was nicer, lighter, with white carpet and a fancy bathroom.  She never came.  He cried when he spoke of her.

I hadn’t seen Uncle Willie for maybe 20 years.  Then in the fall of 2013, I visited with my father.  We laughed, we talked.  I found something familiar in him.  I photographed him.  I went again on Easter 2015.  I filmed him, his voice a bare whisper.  His attention seemed parsed, distracted by the thought of the woman.  I asked him about the past, about his mother, his father, his childhood.  My dad sat beside him and inserted little details along the way.   Uncle Willie’s cloudy blue eyes watered as he told the tales.

I last saw him at the end of September 2015, when we celebrated with an early birthday party.  In December he would turn 90, my Dad would turn 80.  He was in good form.  Laughing.  Joking.  Enjoying the attention.  His blue eyes glimmered with that old light.  He had new boots.  He had a gadget for helping him to take off his boots without touching them, and he demonstrated it for me.

We made plans to get together in the spring.  For another party, for dancing.  He told me that it would keep him alive, to think of that.

Uncle Willie passed away at 3:30 a.m. today, February 27, 2016.

cast-iron-stove-wood-elder
Uncle Willie lights the old stove in his home in Tennessee.
Old-family-photo-fletcher
Uncle Willie treasured this old photo of his grandparents.
Uncle Willie is proud of his boots. He has 9 pairs of cowboy boots, pristine, ready for a night at the dance hall.
Uncle Willie is proud of his boots. He has 9 pairs of cowboy boots, pristine, ready for a night at the dance hall.
Uncle Willie
Uncle Willie in his living room.
kitchen calendars farm
In the kitchen.
Uncle Willie
In the kitchen.
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The back field.
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Uncle Willie’s house.
The addition
The addition
The addition, living room
The addition, living room
Family Bible
Family Bible
Three Fletchers
Three Fletchers
Willie at his early 90th party
Willie at his early 90th party
Uncle Willie demonstrates his boot-remover contraption.
Uncle Willie demonstrates his boot-remover contraption.

Home

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Home 

It’s been a hard year.  We’ve lost a number of family members and dear friends.  Had job changes.  Experienced new aches and pains.  Dealt with little annoyances like losing an iPad and a coat (how does that happen??  Are our minds slipping?!)  And we’ve suffered through continuing bouts of ennui and this great restlessness.  A combination of things that leaves our hearts hurting, our thoughts scattered and worried, our confidence tested, and our energy exhausted.

We wonder, how many more Christmases will we have?  How many more summers?  How many more times will I get to hug this person–or hear that story again–or ask those questions?  How many more times can I say “next time, we’ll do that” –before there is no “next time”?  So, this Christmas, when I went home to Nashville to see my Mom and Dad, I also made plans to see some extended family–people I love, and used to spend more time with, but who I don’t have a lot of chances to see on quick visits home from Chicago.  It was good.  We shared laughter, stories, meals.  I need more of this.  And I have made a promise to myself to do more of it in 2015, and make it count.

I also spent a little time driving around Nashville…visiting some places I love…places that are scratched into my memory.  Former homes, old neighborhoods, favorite streets and parks.  Maybe I only spent a little time there–or maybe a lot.  But these places remain in my heart.  And while I can see them –any day– when I close my eyes, I wanted to touch them again.  It was good.  This too, I need more of.

Things change.  Buildings get knocked down.  Trees get cut down.  We change.  People move in and out of our lives.  It hurts sometimes.  And while we can’t always see them anymore, they live on in our memories.  And there is this magical kind of peace and grace in remembering those memories, and visiting those old places.

So, here’s to peace, and to a new year spent making good memories.  Happy New Year!

sledding hill
This is my old street and the neighborhood’s best sledding hill. When Nashville got snow, this hill was covered with kids and sleds. If you had good slick snow and a strong push off at the top of the hill, you could make it all the way to Valleywood.
Home
This place will always keep a few pieces of my heart.  My precious grandmother passed away there.  Three dogs are buried in the backyard, along with two pet turtles, three goldfish, and a few wild birds.  Those two strong maples were plucked from the woods by my father and grandfather–planted in the little front yard of our other house and then moved to this yard as saplings.
Shelby Avenue old tree and old house
Roots and foundations on Shelby Avenue.
Pond by the Parthenon
Gone are the paddle boats and swans:  The Parthenon’s pond in Centennial Park
Centennial Park Swing
Centennial Park Swings:  These are the best swings in the world. It’s all in the footboard…
Elliston Place Restaurant Diner
Neon sign from the old fashioned soda shop on Elliston Place. Milkshakes and grilled cheese…yum.
Exit/In wild posting by Krispy Kreme
Exit/In brought the music to the locals. And in a town like Nashville–“special guests” could mean a Rolling Stone, a Beatle or Johnny Cash.
Train tracks over the Cumberland
My grandparents had tomato plants…lots of tomato plants in their tiny backyard. One summer, they came to this spot in Shelby Park every day to dig dirt–buckets of good dark river dirt.  We’d go home each day with 4-5 big buckets of Shelby Park dirt for those tomato plants in the trunk of their car.
Long Avenue dead ends into Shelby Park
I once flew in a red wagon down Long Avenue’s alley hill into Shelby Park–zooming with more speed than control–with my laughing and elderly Aunt Tiller.  “Don’t you take that baby down that hill Tiller!”, my grandmother yelled from the kitchen window.  “Wave at her,” my Aunt Tiller whispered in my ear as she kicked the wagon into motion.
Spring Hill Cemetery
One of the most peaceful places I know. The tree in Spring Hill beneath which my grandparents rest.
Fletcher's Shoes
Daddy’s shoe shop, closing early on a rainy Christmas Eve’s Eve:  No matter where I am, I think of him whenever I smell shoe leather—or wear my Converse with no arch support.
Sage dressing
“More sage!”:  says my step-dad Marvin every time we test Mama’s homemade dressing.
Christmas Eve
Bill Monroe sings, “Christmastime’s a comin’, and I know I’m going home”:  There is a special comfort in being at Mama’s house on Christmas Eve. The smell of dressing and vegetables cooking, the lights on the tree twinkling on the bows & ribbons below, and you know that after eating, you’ll sit in that room chattering for a few welcome hours.
Awaiting the holiday meal
Anticipation:  Setting the table with the holiday china and Mama’s place cards for the Christmas Eve feast.
kitchen bar with christmas tree and microwave
Later at Daddy’s house:  We sit at the kitchen bar and talk about old family photos, health, and those little Christmas trees Aunt Robbie made all those years ago.

 

Traveling in Rural Tennessee

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Abandoned Motel, Tennessee, rural roads
Pre-interstate, Nolensville Road was the main route from Nashville south to Georgia. Along the route are many empty little hotels.
Chimney, stone, cedar, tree, abandoned, rural road
Framed by cedars, an old chimney still stands on this old farm in Tennessee.
Keep Out sign, Hickory tree, rural Tennessee
The Keep Out tree.
See Rock City, barn, rural Tennessee
Years ago, Rock City figured out a way to advertise all over the rural South…paint “See Rock City” on as many barns as possible.
Estill Springs, Tennessee, rural roads
A lonely road in rural Tennessee.
Trash, bag, rural Tennessee
A black trash bag along the road in Estill Springs, TN…litter?  or a sign of roadside clean up?

Early one morning, two days after Thanksgiving, my best friend and I met to go on a photo jaunt.   When I’m home, it’s a tradition for us to meet early in the morning when the sun is coming and the mist is still fogging over the roads, and head off into the wilds of Tennessee.  We are Nashville-raised girls–so these old roads, falling down barns, abandoned buildings, lonely graveyards and remote train tracks draw us to them like birds to a nest.  We drive for a while, jabbering about our lives, and stopping every few miles for some shots of something that speaks to us.  Later, we stop in some little diner for a late breakfast before hightailing it back to town.  These scenes, these drives, these little traditions remind me of what matters in life….family and friends, and roads to be traveled.

6 hours on the Road for 5 hours in Memphis, TN

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Five hours in Memphis, Tennessee on Friday, April 28, 2006

This quick trip was designed around 3 things: the Maxfield Parrish exhibit at the Brooks Museum, Sun Studios and BBQ ribs.

We left Nashville around 8 a.m. on a Friday and pulled into Memphis a clean 3 hours later. First stop, the Brooks Museum to see the Maxfield Parrish exhibit.

Maxfield Parrish’s work is a wonder of colors and details. It’s full, dreamy, magical. Blues of every nuance…and that’s just the mass produced prints. Standing in front of the actual 1922 Daybreak oil on panel was like looking into a window of heaven. Blue, violet, periwinkle, cerulean, lavender, mauve and the light. It was as stunning 10 feet away as it was with my nose nearly pressed against the glass.

Some things I learned: Parrish never mixed colors, he instead painted in layers–60+ sometimes–layering in gouache, glaze and more color. He photographed friends and family in the poses and then sketched them onto his paintings to get the details. And he kept rocks in his studio to “model” for the backgrounds. He was a perfectionist with an eye for light, color and nature–and a keen sense of humor. He aspired to be considered more a fine art creator versus being the illustrator.

Next stop was Sun Studios: recording home to Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis and Johnny Cash during the 1950s. The studio tour starts with a memorabilia tour next door. They have early recording equipment, scratchy recordings of Howlin Wolf, Elvis, Johnny Cash and more. Plus, they have Elvis’ social security card and high school diploma (on loan from Graceland), and some pre Ed Sullivan video of Elvis’ hip shaking. Back downstairs, you enter the Sun Studio reception room from the side. The studio itself is behind the reception room. It’s much smaller than I’d imagined. But not so difficult to imagine a young Elvis coming in one afternoon to record a song for his mother. The very intuitive receptionist, running the studio solo that afternoon, smartly made a copy of Elvis’ first recording for her boss Sam Phillips. It’s the stuff of legends! Old microphones, pianos, photos, and guitars line the walls. And it is still a recording studio…for $75/hour, you too can record at Sun!

Next stop, Blues City Cafe on Beale St. for ribs. A no-nonsense kind of place with huge portions. The full rack of ribs was moderately priced and some of the meatiest ribs we’ve ever seen.

We walked down a few blocks to pay our respects to the mighty Mississippi River and then headed east on I-40 back to Nashville. Wishing we could have spent the night on Beale St…they were gearing up for that music in the streets. Next time…