Nashville - Part One

Have you ever arrived in a town where you didn’t know anyone and had virtually no money? I guess I’ve done that more than once; as I probably shared when I first started this blog, George Will and I showed up in New York City in 1967 with less than a $100.00 - oh the simplicity of faith unencumbered by rationalizations.

Years ago I got off the bus in Nashville, TN with just a few dollars; it’s been so long ago I don’t know how much I had, but it wasn’t much - I mean it really wasn’t much. There are two things about this story which will tell you right off that I was not exactly what you’d call prudent or realistic in those days; the first is that I bought a bus ticket to a place where I knew no one, and the second is that I went to Nashville to try to interest folks in some songs I’d written. (Yes, yes, I can hear some of you questioning just how realistic or prudent I’ve been most of my life, and upon reflection I’d be hard-pressed to argue with you).

As near as I can recall, after I got off the bus I bought a paper and looked for rooms to rent. Now mind you that I didn’t have a clue about Nashville, about where I was or about where any of the addresses were that I was reading in the paper, so I must of found a map and started walking - I remember the walking but I don’t remember the map - but since there was no GPS in those days and since I’m not a Monarch butterfly navigating by some mysterious way, I must have used a map.

My plan was to ask people to rent me a room with the promise that I would find a job and pay them two-weeks' rent on my first payday.  Right now you’re thinking that you can’t believe what you just read, but the reason I wrote it is because it is true. As I write and as I read what I’ve written I can’t believe it either, but I have it on good authority that it was as I have written it.

It should be no surprise to you that my plan was not well received by those who had rooms to rent. However, I was not discouraged in my quest for lodging and continued working my way through the “Rooms to Rent” section of the newspaper.

Eventually I found myself in an old section of Nashville with large wood-frame houses with long and wide porches. I located the address which was advertising a room to rent, knocked on the door, and told the owner who I was and what I planned to do. Perhaps it will be a surprise to you to learn that the owners, a husband and wife, agreed to my plan and took me in.

My attention then turned to the “Help Wanted” section of the paper. Before the day was out I walked into Ireland’s Steak and Biscuits and landed a job as a cook on the evening shift. Prior to writing this piece I checked the Internet for Ireland’s Steak and Biscuits but it appears that they’ve gone out of business, too bad, I would have enjoyed reading the menu.

As I reflect back upon my first day in Nashville I am not only amazed that God in His mercy found this idiot a place to live, but that the family that took me in was African-American. I am not amazed at the kindness of an African-American family, for I have received much kindness from African-Americans throughout my life; nevertheless, this was during the Civil Rights Era, an era filled with violence and hatred and mistrust, and that black family was willing to take the word of a white stranger that if they’d trust him for two weeks’ rent that he’d pay them on his first paycheck. I wonder if they thought they’d never see me again when that first paycheck came?

I think I’ll write a bit more about Nashville...stay tuned...