IT wasn’t the fried baloney sandwich that first lured me inside Robert’s Western World, but the sweet sounds of George Jones and Conway Twitty spilling out the door and onto Broadway. At Robert’s — and countless other Nashville honky-tonks — you can hear a great cover band for the price of a beer and a few bills in the tip jar. That’s drinks, dinner and live entertainment for $10.
Paired with a Pabst and a Goo-Goo Cluster as part of their $5 “Recession Special”, Robert’s fried baloney sandwich sealed my love for the bar, and for Nashville on the spot. The Goo-Goo Cluster, just so you know, is a native Nashvillian candy that closely resembles a cow patty-shaped Snickers. In 1912, it was the first combination candy to be sold in the world.
I expected Nashville to be preserved in amber, a prisoner of country-music history. Instead, I found a city constantly recycling the past into something new. Imported residents give the city a more cosmopolitan feel than other similarly sized southern towns, and those rough-and-tumble days of yore make it a fantastic place to be in times like these: Nashville knows from getting liquored up on the cheap. (George Jones sure wasn’t drinking single-malt scotch.) Plus, the 200 or so bands based out of the region make a great chaser.
Mistakes and Happy Accidents
It’s time to ‘fess up: While I was at the Grand Ole Opry, I drank the Kool-Aid. It’s more than a metaphor, folks. There’s Kool-Aid in the Opry’s green room for all of country music’s legends to drink. They keep the beverages PG backstage at the Opry because in the bad old days, anything stronger got the performers into a heap of trouble before they finished their sets.
The Opry is not, like you’d think, Nashville’s answer to the Met or La Scala. It was born in 1925 as a radio show to aid in the sale of door-to-door policies for the National Life and Accident Insurance Company. Salesmen would say they were from the Grand Ole Opry to literally get a foot in the door. Today, it remains a staple of Friday- and Saturday-night radio on the Opry’s 50,000-watt station, WSM (reaching 35 states on a good night) and a live country concert of the highest order, featuring over a dozen artists from newbies to legends in one two-hour show. Those hustling roots remain, too: A different advertiser sponsors each half-hour, and is plugged during each and every 60-second break between acts.
Dan Rogers, the Opry’s marketing manager, universally referred to as “Opry Dan” for his historical knowledge, told me that the Opry’s success was in part the result of “mistakes and happy accidents.” That’s a rather “aw shucks” take. The Opry embraced both radio and television early. And when the live radio concert was moved from its famed home at the Ryman Auditorium in 1974 to the current location 10 miles from downtown, the Opryland hotel followed three years later. Doesn’t seem so accidental, does it?
Equal parts clever calculation and razzle-dazzle showmanship, the Opry’s musical heart is rooted in Tennessee. Mississippi-style blues from Memphis, jug-band hill music from the Smokey Mountains, and slick, modern country music tunes from the Music City are all part of a typical Opry evening. Those tunes brought the listeners in 1925, and it’s what fills the Opry’s 4,400 seats on most show nights today. That, and lots and lots of rhinestones.
The Truth About Nashvegas
In the 1990s, singer-songwriter George Hamilton tried to convince Nashville to ditch their “Music City” tagline for “Viva Nashvegas”. It didn’t take. Nashville remains Music City — in fact, they rolled out a “Music City Troubadour” frequent-visitor campaign to reward returning tourists with free hotel rooms and concert tickets in January — but the sequined spirit of Nashvegas lives on in the neon signs of Broadway and, of course, at Opryland.
Gaylord’s conventioneer’s paradise, a 47-acre, 2,800 room complex northeast of downtown, wears the over-the-top, Nashvegas ethic like a well-loved Dolly Parton pantsuit. Alas, the theme park that abutted it is now the Opry Mills shopping mall — but in a way, they integrated the theme park into the hotel. The hotel’s sheer size also draws some interesting crowds. When I checked in, the sound of turkey calls reverberated throughout the lobby. I wasn’t losing my mind — it was the National Wild Turkey Federation’s 20th annual convention. Who knew they made camouflage suit jackets?
Today, Opryland is divided into four sectors with names like Magnolia and Delta that sound suspiciously like the hidden research stations on “Lost.” Just like “Lost,” it’s tropical; the atriums in the Cascades and Delta areas bursting with hothouse plant life supported by a quarter mile’s worth of ersatz river. It’s so big that the carpeting is color-coded by section so you always know where you are, though I had one woman tell me that she was in tears after spending an hour looking for her room the night before.
Follow that river and you could find yourself at Old Hickory, the Opryland’s steakhouse that’s modeled after a Louisiana plantation — the whole building, that is — or a recreated block of the French Quarter. It’s Opryland’s take on Vegas’s Eiffel Tower. Authentic it’s not, but the unnaturally chipper staff is as comfortable catering to the needs of turkey hunters as it is to Kid Rock. And by gosh, it’s hard not to love a place that starts decorating for Christmas in June. It’s a teeny taste of Vegas, right there in the Tennessee exurbs. Dolly’s outfits make a lot more sense now.
LOWDOWN
Learn more about Nashville at www.visitmusiccity.com. The Opry’s website, www.opry.com, also has a lot of information on the history of the Opry and its members.
FIVE PLACES TO HEAR MUSIC (IN MUSIC CITY)
1) Robert’s Western World and Tootsies Orchid Lounge
It would be criminal to skip a set at one of Broadway’s honky-tonks. Tootsie’s proximity to the Ryman is legendary –performers would sometimes play and drink here after or sometimes during their Opry performances — but Robert’s has a much weirder and more entertaining crowd (416 Broadway, [615] 244-9552, www.robertswesternworld.com; 422 Broadway; [615] 726-0463; www.tootsies.net).
2) Ryman Auditorium
The “Mother Church of Country Music” was built as a house of worship, and has the acoustics to match. The Opry decamped in 1974 as downtown and the Ryman itself crumbled. Restored 20 years later, the Ryman hosts shows and the Opry itself while the Rockettes are in town each November through January (116 Fifth Avenue North; [615] 889-3060; www.ryman.com).
3) Grand Ole Opry
The exterior is hideous and it smells like a middle school, but the acoustics are tailor-made for an echo-free performance and the 4,400 seats have padding, a luxury the Ryman lacks. Don’t skip the tour, either, as many of the guides — like Eloise — have been shepherding visitors around since it opened 35 years ago (2802 Opryland Drive; [615] 871-OPRY; www.opry.com).
4) Bluebird Cafe
Out on the Hillsboro Pike, the Bluebird hosts performances from big names in Nashville’s singer-songwriter community. You may not recognize the face, but you certainly will know the tune. One boon for tourists: You can make a reservation to see a show a week in advance, though first-come, first-served seating at the bar is also available (4104 Hillsboro Pike; [615] 383-1461; www.bluebirdcafe.com).
5) Cumberland Caverns
It’s a 90-minute drive out of the city, but the Cumberland Caverns — yes, the must-visit location for every amateur spelunker — hosts live performances of the “Bluegrass Underground” show about once a month. There’s also the occasional one-off performance; the Silver Jews played their farewell concert here in January (1437 Cumberland Caverns Road, McMinnville; [931] 668-4396; www.cumberlandcaverns.com).