It's all about the music

Well Marley had her say about Memphis, so I suppose I ought to add a few more notes on that fun city of 670,000+ residents. Yes, I did enjoy fried chicken for the first time in my life. I had to go back for a full lunch the day after I shared my take-out snack with Marley.
But what I enjoyed most about our time there was our visits to Sun Studio and Stax Museum of American Soul Music. Sun Studios is located in exactly the sort of neighborhood you'd expect — on the outskirts of town, surrounded by rundown auto-part stores with a few hints that artists are present (creative graffiti, a funky little cafe). We went on a tour with an infectiously enthusiastic guide who played snippets of some of Sun's best-known recordings by musicians like The Prisonairs (who really were prisoners and got early releases so they could record their music at Sun, and most of whom eventually ended up as recidivists), The Dixie Cupps, Howlin' Wolf, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and, of course, Elvis. 

It turns out that Elvis took Sun Records up on their offer to allow anyone with a few bucks to come in the studio and lay down two tracks. The artistic genius behind Sun, Sam Phillips, was out of town, but his co-manager (who is usually described only as the "secretary"), Marion Keisker took over the control booth. As soon as Elvis started to sing, she knew he was special, but it took a year of her pestering Phillips, and Elvis working on his sound, before Sun released one of his singles — "That's All Right"  which immediately became the song teenagers wanted to hear over the airwaves. Elvis soon after signed on with RCA for the rest of his career.

Stax Museum is also on the outskirts of Memphis and the exhibit takes you on a winding tour of the history of soul music, with memorabilia (guitars, costumes, playbills) from early pioneers like Sam Cooke, Ike and Tina, Ray Charles, up through the seventies with a dance floor where they project Soul Train videos so you feel like you're right there on the show. Outside the museum, they play a steady dose of Soul Train hits, something Marley seemed to find comforting as she "relaxed" in the RV. They've also established a prep school for inner city kids right next to the museum that focuses on training the next generation of musicians. 

Our Memphis Musical Extravaganza included a night of music on Beale Street, as well as a trip to Graceland where I helped a funky French dude negotiate with the souvenir shopkeeper to buy just the top half of a black leather Elvis suit. Who knew my French would come in handy for such a moment? Graceland itself was interesting, in that it was packed with the artifacts of Elvis’ life and career, and certainly offered many film clips and wall texts. 

But it struck me as removed, inaccessible, and sterilized. It lacked soul. The curating whitewashed out all semblance of context, of connection to much of the era; it’s politics and racial tensions. And little humanizing info. about Elvis was offered in terms of family relationships, struggles (drugs!), hobbies, etc. Walking through his house (and the entire upstairs was off limits “to protect the family’s privacy”), I found myself wondering what his personal life was really like, did he get involved in home decorating and decor, or did he hire someone to outfit the 23 room Colonial Revival home in such outrageous and gaudy ways? 

I know some of it was decorated by his girlfriend of four years, Linda Thompson. Did he build all those satellite “play” areas on the property for his family because he could, or because he couldn’t stop doing things, being busy, acquiring things? I have never before been particularly interested in Elvis or his life, but the tour of Graceland brought up so many questions of who that man was, what he was like, and doing just a bit of research I've already found more interesting tidbits about him than ever mentioned in Graceland's careful picture (e.g. that he "would spend hours in his bedroom, watching his property on a closed-circuit television.") he liked tv, and would watch three at a time.

Laurie has informed me that his favorite food was peanut butter and banana sandwiches — I picture him reclining in one of his animal-print throne-like chairs, eating a sandwich, and video-snooping on his housekeeper as she Windexes the bathroom vanity. I didn't take many photos at Graceland. Much of the furniture was covered in plastic, if it wasn't cordoned off completely.

Resting up before heading out

We then headed east, where we'd planned to experience Nashville, but that didn't work out. First of all, because the nighttime temps were dropping below freezing, we had to winterize the RV, which meant taking it to Camper World to have them drain out all the water so we can't flush, shower, or wash dishes. Everyone with an RV was doing the same thing, so we spent a day in the store with a lot of retirees. Thanks, Arctic Blast. And then, the next day when we headed into town, we discovered it was absolutely impossible to find a parking spot for the RV. 

In the parking lot outside Nashville:

So we gave up and went east on precipitously winding roads through the Tennessee hill country where weather-beaten barns with rusting tin roofs dot the golden fields filled with cows (and baby calves since it's that time of year!), horses and mules (in the '50s this area was known as the "Mule Capital of the World," a claim to fame that any area would no doubt take pride in). Our destination was Fall Creek Falls State Park, the number one most visited state park in TN, but at this time of year, we were the only ones there. We arrived at the campground just before dusk to find a field filled with 19 browsing white tailed deer. A few of them looked up at as us we backed the rv into the site of our choice. The next morning, we set off on a hike through the forest to the park's eponymous waterfall that plummets off the edge of a deep gorge. We then visited another one of the park's waterfalls, which you can cross on a suspension bridge. I went across while Laurie, being terrified of heights, waited with Marley (who would've happily joined me). 

Angel Hair ice in the forrest

Falls Creek waterfall

 
 

Cherokee trading post. Bought a corn pipe for Laurie

Also bought some Fry Bread Mix

The next day we visited the nearby Cumberland Caverns (forgot to bring camera), a show cave full of beautiful mineral formations and underground canyons, pools, and waterfalls. We were sorry to be there six days too early for the monthly Underground Bluegrass concert (taped by PBS) where bands play in the "Volcano Room" cavern, 333 feet below the earth's surface. Apparently the acoustics are fantastic so that the bands don't need much amplifying and there's a 15 foot high chandelier hanging from the cavern ceiling that looks like it belongs in Phantom of the Opera. On our cave tour, an odd experience: deep inside the caverns, our rather sheepish geologist-trained guide led us into a  cave "room" with staggered wood benches to watch a 15 minute light show and “poetic” creationist narrative, which began with the booming words, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” Then in pitch blackness we heard about God forming the sun and the stars, etc, and lo and behold, there was light dancing all over the stalactites and stalagmites as the booming voice exclaimed that God got lonely and needed to create man. I suppose out here in the "buckle of the bible belt" somebody had to counteract all that geological reality.

Then a glorious four hour winding drive through beautiful Tennessee farm land, through the Great Smokey Mountains to Asheville, North Carolina. Here in Asheville, we are perched on a tiny plateau on the mountain above the city, at Campfire Lodging on Appalachian Village Road, within the boundaries of the Cherokee Nation (we will be going to the Cherokee Nation Museum tomorrow). The views off the ridge are spectacular, including a long swath of the French Broad River and countless mountain peaks.

See next post about Asheville!