Honk Tonks

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Hello, listeners, It's time once again for another episode of
the Nashville Minutes podcast, the show dedicated to all things Nashville.
Got a real fun episode in store for you to
day or going honky Tonkin, that's right. In nineteen sixty,
a woman named Hattie Lewis Tutsi bess inherited a bar

(00:25):
tucked behind the Rhyman Auditorium. She painted it purple on
a whim, and Tutsi's Orchid Lounge was born. The venue
soon became a sanctuary for struggling artists trying to make
their mark on the grand Old Oppery stage next door.
Minnie would exit the Opry's back door and stumble into

(00:47):
Tootsy's to share drinks, war stories, and impromptu jam sessions.
Inside the walls grew heavy with photographs and autographs Willie
Neilson before his braids, a young Chris Christofferson scribbling lyrics.
Patsy Kleine perched at the bar with a cigarette. Tutsi

(01:11):
herself was part den mother, part guardian angel. She kept
a cigar box full of io ewes and paid tabs
for the ones who couldn't. She believed in talent, not
wallet's Tutzi's became a place of emotional collision, a dive

(01:33):
where music legends crashed into fate. Even his corporate chains
overtook Broadway, Tutsies clung to its honky Tonk's soul, now
a shrine through the global era of country music. Practically
next door Robert's Western World Boots Bologna and b R

(01:58):
five four nine. What began as a boot Western were
shop in the nineteen fifties transformed into one of Nashville's
most oftenic honky tonks, Robert's Western World. In the early
nineteen nineties, when the Lower Broadway was teetering on decay,
Robert Moore took over the space and turned it into

(02:20):
a live music venue that revived everything righteous about country's past.
Roberts championed honky tonk purists and rockabilly rebels. The house
band b R five forty nine played raw, unapologetic sets
that drew curious a tourists, record execs, and die hard

(02:43):
locals into a sacred loop of twang and dance. There,
arise from Robert's stage to a national recording deal marked
a new hope for authentic country survival. Roberts is as
famous for its six dollars fried baloney sandwich as it

(03:04):
is for its music. With walls lined with vintage signs,
neon and well worn stools, it feels like a time
capsule where Ank Williams might walk in at any moment
and sit beside you. Next up the stage on Broadway,

(03:27):
where outlaws party with angels. The stage on Broadway may
be a newer honky Tonk, but impulses with the same
electric energy that defined its older siblings. Its exposed wood,
raw brick, and live music blaring from its open air
windows make it impossible to ignore. While others cater to tourists,

(03:53):
the stage has earned credibility by attracting both country royalty
and up and comers. Blake Shelton has dropped in unannounced,
Mirinda Lambert has jumped on stage, and even Kid Rock
and Hank Williams Junior have been known to stir the
crowd into a roar. The rooftop bar offers views of
Broadway's glow neon as far as I can see inside,

(04:19):
every set feels like it could be a career launching moment.
The stage is Nashville's version of a colosseum, where the gladiators,
wheeled guitars in dreams. Next up Laylah's honky Tonk, where
the ghost of Loretta still lingers. In the mid nineties,

(04:42):
Laylah's blue Grass End opens its doors with a mission
keep traditional music alive. Located in the heart of Broadway,
stood as a quiet rebellion against the encroaching pop country wave.
The music at Laylah's is less glitter morgrit. It's venue

(05:02):
where you're just as likely to hear a Merle Haggard
cover as you are an original outlaw ballad from a
dusty road band. The house sound ranges from honky tonk
to Western swing to pluegrass. Many musicians say Layla's save
their careers. It's a training ground for players who don't

(05:23):
want to chase trends, but want to write songs that
make people cry, laugh, or fall in love. The wooden
um bar and no frill stage create intimacy, a place
where legends like Marty Stewart have shown up to sit
in with strangers. Next up Legends Corner Country's mural faced

(05:48):
Memory Lane. Legends Corner feels like a jukebox that grew
a heartbeat. Its front wall is a mural sized tribute
to country pantheon Johnny Patsy, Dollyriba, Garth, Willie and Moore. Inside,

(06:11):
the music comes fast and loud, and the drinks come faster.
Opened in the nineties, Legends was built to honor the
genre's deep roots while still allowing new talent to make noise.
The stage isn't large, but it has hosted voices that
good filerinas. The bars stacked with memorabilia, vinyls, guitars, and

(06:37):
old photos that make you feel like you're stepping into
a family reunion from Nashville's heroes. It's a perfect place
for first timers to start their Broadway journey because the
atmosphere is immersive. You leave humming a song you didn't
know you loved, carrying the dust of one hundred steel
guitars and your lungs. Next up Bluegrass Inn, the outpost

(07:05):
of the old ways where neon meets nostalgia. The Bluegrass
Inn serves as a steadfast bastion for a traditional country
and bluegrass sounds. Opened in the nineteen nineties, its origins
line a revival of Lower Broadway, a district that had

(07:26):
grown neglected by then. The venue isn't flashy, the beer
is cold, the stools are rickety, and the mandolins are real.
The stage is where pickers and fiddlers summon ghosts of
the Carter family in film and row at night. The
crowd is a mix of old timers tapping boots and

(07:47):
gen zy tourists discovering that real country music can leave
you breathless. Four musicians. The Bluegrass Inn is both a
temple and a tests. If you can get applause ear
with just a banjo and a verse, you're ready for anything. Next.

(08:07):
Ernest Tubbet Record Shop in Midnight Jamboree. Founded in nineteen
forty seven, the Ernest Tubbe Record Shop wasn't just a
place to buy records. It was a gathering ground for
country pilgrims. Behind the front room was a tiny stage
where the Midnight Jamboree, a live radio show hosted by

(08:30):
tub himself, took place every Saturday after the Grand Old Lobbry.
It was raw and intimate. The show gave young artists
like Loretta Lynne and Tammy Wynette a first national audience.
No auto tune, no glitter, just a mic, a stool

(08:51):
and a song. As the second longest running radio show
in history, the Midnight Jamboree remains a cherished artifact of
Country's golden age. Though the shop closed temporarily in twenty
twenty two, its spirit continues to inspire and may rise again.
Ernest Tubwent sang thanks a Lot, and Nashville never stops

(09:16):
thanking him. Lastly, for today, the Full Moon Saloon, where
the deal was often in the drink, Tucked into Lower
Broadway's wild scene in the nineteen eighties and nineties, the
Full Moon Saloon was the kind of honkey tunk ware,
stories got written on napkins, and songs traded for whiskey.

(09:39):
The crowd was equal parts industry insiders and highway ghosts,
booking agents, producers, drifters, and musicians fighting to be heard
before they were signed. Many artists passed through its doors
and onto its compact, gritty stage. It wasn't glamorous, but

(10:00):
it was real. The saloon affaded as Broadway, got polished
and commercialized, but those who remember it say, for its
shining years, it felt like the very center of Nashville's
creative fire. Unfortunately, that's the time that we've got for
today's episode of the Nashville Minutes podcast is a show
dedicated to all things Nashville. More importantly, she has dedicated

(10:24):
to you, our listeners. I can't thank you enough for
stopping by for another episode.