MAMAS DON’T LET YOUR BABIES GROW UP TO BE COWBOYS……..JESUS LOVES ME THIS I KNOW…….and other songs, I didn’t write. Ed Bruce……Anna B. Warner

The following is an excerpt from the book Corner of Music Row and Memory Lane by Stan Hitchcock This was the late 40’s and early 50’s, I was just reaching puberty and radio was king ( I don’t know if there was any connection or not, but those love songs were starting to have new meaning)……particularly local radio which always had great live shows in the early morning, at noon and then in late afternoon.  … CONTINUE READING

Drive-Ins, Rodeos and Strip Clubs with midget tossing …Early Country Music Venues

Art by Stan Hitchcock We, who were living the Classic Country dream, in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s, learned, early on, to sing our songs, play our music and do our entertaining, under extreme, and often, very unusual circumstances. Shoot, we didn’t care, we just wanted to do our shows, hit the road and go do another one somewhere else. It didn’t seem so strange to be standing on the top of the projection booth, … CONTINUE READING

The Live Nativity Scene, December 20th, 1948

When I was growing up, our family would attend two different churches that were close to our farm. One was a Baptist Church and the other a Methodist. I say our family, but it was mostly me, moving back and forth between the two. Ya’ see, the Methodist had a great young peoples group, and the Baptist Church was mostly older folks…so, I preferred the Methodist in those early years. Every year, the big deal … CONTINUE READING

The History of Squirrels in the land of Tennessee

This pretty weather on the first real day of Spring causes me to contemplate the history of the critters living down along the creek in front of the old farm house. A lot of folks may not be familiar with the Squirrel History of Middle Tennessee, but, after a long and creative study of all available literature on the subject, I am now ready to inform my dear readers of this important piece of information. This … CONTINUE READING

Ancient Ones

While having my coffee this morning, watching the sun come up over the Sycamores, by the creek, I am mindful of the ruins of an ancient civilization that lived here, hundreds of years before the coming of the White man. This area, of Middle Tennessee, in the age of Stone, must have been a veritable wonderland to the ancient ones that lived here. They lived in stone walled enclosures, along this creek and other waterways … CONTINUE READING

Bless The Boys (and Girls) That Make The Noise, on 16th Avenue

Music Row, in Nashville in the early 60’s was really just getting started good and consisted of mostly refurbished old houses on 16th and 17th Avenues that had been turned into offices and music hangouts. In 1963, if you started at the corner of Demonbruen Street and 16th Avenue South, and started walking toward the South, you would first come to the Wilburn Brothers and Don Helms Wil-Helm Artists Agency building where Teddy and Doyle … CONTINUE READING

Pieces of life, as we live it.

I find myself preoccupied, lately, with objects that hold memories that trigger some special nostalgic feeling of connection to another time and place. I never thought of objects like that before, I’ve always been one to stick something back and save it, but still they were just objects….just things to use. Now, I find myself, pausing to reflect, over the sharpness of an old pocket knife….a particular fishing lure or rod….an old saddle that belonged … CONTINUE READING

Pee Wee and Smoky

15 July, 1957…on the Main Deck of the USS Bryce Canyon (AD-36), Long Beach Naval Base. I’m standing, with all my gear resting on the deck by my feet, saying goodbye to my shipmate, fiddle player and best friend, Pee Wee Garrison. Standing by Pee Wee is Smoky Rogers, another friend, shipmate and the big Dog House Bass player and harmony singer of the Bryce Canyon Troubadours. After three years of service on the Bryce … CONTINUE READING

The Man Who Drove the Rhythm For The Opry – Staley Walton

Dr. Humphrey Bate and Possum Hunters The old man was cold, on this December day, even in his long johns and wool socks, under his old bib overalls, he just couldn’t seem to get warm anymore. His old house, which started out being a log cabin that somebody built back before the War For Southern Independence, had been closed in with rough cut lumber, through the years, but the cold wind still found the holes … CONTINUE READING