First stop: the Country Music Hall of Fame. Take a look at the warnings stencilled on the door:
Hardly an auspicious beginning to the visit, but the museum is fantastic, situating the 20th century rise of country music well within US social and political history. It is an odd subset of the national story, perhaps none of it quite so odd as the massive collection of "Nudie Suits" on display -- you know, those glitzy, rhinestone studded polysester suits that male country singers wore in the sixties and seventies. The were called "Nudie Suits" after their designer: Russian expat Nudie Cohn. How on earth he ended up in Nashville, I don't know. Unfortunately the musuem was dark (so as to protect the Nudie Suits) and we could not use flash photography (again, to protect the Nudie Suits), so I have no documentary evidence.
On the other hand, it was quite moving to see Bill Monroe's mandolin, Mother Maybelle Carter's guitar, Sara Carter's autoharp, and Johnny Cash's battered guitar. And it was neat to see one of the very first County Fair fiddle trophies that Alison Krauss won as a kid.
The actual Hall of Fame was quite moving.
It all began with Thomas Hart Benton's mural of the birth of country music:
And it was full of heroes:
History can make you hungry, so it was off to a highly recommended local restaurant for fried chicken, pulled pork, okra, greens, and biscuits. Oh, the biscuits.
We've had enough of a few foodstuffs --biscuits, pie, fried chicken, greens, green beans with bacon, biscuits, pulled pork, mashed potatoes, and country ham-- that we feel the need to do a scientific study and post the rankings at the end of the trip, if we survive the culinary adventure. Stay tuned.
Then it was off to Franklin, south of Nashville, to survey some Civil War sites (not to mention almost go off the road rubbernecking the huge homes in the area that belong to musicians). The Battle of Franklin, fought 30 November 1864, was a desperate and fruitless attempt by the Confederacy to drive the Union back North. The town of 750 was overwhelmed by almost 40,000 troops -- 22,000 Confederates trying to route the slightly smaller Union force. The battle lasted 5 hours, and 9000 soldiers were killed -- the deadliest 5 hours of the Civil War.
Viewing the battle site from a hill just south of the town, you can see how completely hopeless it was. And you can also see how hard it is for many Southerners who are engaged in their history to acknowledge this. The monuments erected by amateurs, while full of information, are truly that: amateur.
Much of the battle occurred near the Carter House in what is now downtown. This outbuilding on the property still bears bullet holes from the battle. Some shots went in one side of the building and came out the other side.
The site we spent the most time at was the Carnton Plantation, which the family volunteered as a hospital after the battle. As our docent said, the battle was in town, but Carnton was the aftermath. The House saw hundreds of soldiers, hundreds of surgeries, and hundreds of deaths. The floors of the south-facing bedrooms (which were the sunniest and therefore the best for surgery) are still stained with blood. I got a bit weak in the knees for that part of the tour.
The family later donated land for a graveyard for the Confederate dead -- this site holds about 1/4 of the 6000 Confederate soldiers who died at Franklin.
The house has been beautifully restored. Here is the back porch, where they laid out several dead Confederate generals after the battle.
Unfortunately, no interior photography was allowed. Well, perhaps that's fortunate as far as the gory details are concerned.
The tour does not shy away from the significant history of slavery at Carnton. Most of the slave cabins were destroyed over the years, but a four family dwelling, probably for house slaves, remains. It is of a much higher quality than field slaves' quarters would be.
The day ended pretty much as a it began: cool 80s at 10 pm and with a bit of bluegrass. We caught about 20 minutes of a nearby bluegrass jam, most of which was fantastic -- but part of which was, quite simply, the worst singer either of us (and the guy in front of us too, apparently) have ever heard.
Tomorrow, we head to Kentucky!
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