For the first time ever, I have enjoyed watching a community
grow over the past five years. I have
lived all over the South. My hometown
was destroyed by a tornado and is now a shadow of what it once was (and it was
never much to begin with). I lived in
antediluvian New Orleans (and honestly, would probably kill to live there
now). I summered in St. Louis during the
flood of 1993 and lived in Dublin, Ireland, before the Celtic Tiger was
declawed.
But my time in Durham has shown me that not all cities go
directly to the toilet. When I first
moved here in February of 2007, our downtown consisted of little more than
boarded-up businesses, one-way thoroughfares leading to nowhere and street
corners manned by drug dealers. The
Carolina Theater had yet to reopen its doors and the only place to eat was Rue
Cler, an oasis in a desert of despair.
Then I stopped to think about what I needed from Chapel
Hill. I came up with two answers: Local
506, and they stand between me and Carrboro.
I admit, sometimes Franklin St., despite being frozen in the 1990s, is
fun to drive down on my way to the Cat's Cradle or the ArtsCenter, but as far
as the rest of it goes, I don't need it.
For the rest of my days, if I have to meet someone in Chapel Hill, I
will be packing a lunch or carrying a flask, because I will not spend one
dollar there.
And if I do go, I'm rounding up my biggest, baddest,
pipe-hittingest criminals, so hide yo kids, hide yo wife, Chapel Hill. And to pump ourselves up for the ride, we
will be slipping into the tape deck:
TOP TEN SONGS ABOUT
DURHAM, NORTH CAROLINA
While it's a bit of a stretch, this song is actually about
Western Kentucky tobacco farmers and their battle with JB Duke's American
Tobacco Company during the Black Patch Tobacco War during the early 1900s. You see, before Duke was a basketball
powerhouse, it was a tobacco monopoly, and the farmers in Western Kentucky
feared their prices were being set too low for them to earn a decent
living. So they banded together, donned
hoods, and rode through the countryside, terrorizing farmers who cooperated
with Duke. Not only did these events
inspire the lyrics of Col. JD Wilkes and his Legendary Shack Shakers, but also
Robert Penn Warren's first novel, Night
Riders.
Imagine Rigsbee Street in its heyday, back in the 20s-30s,
the air rich and sweet with the smell of Brightleaf tobacco... Come auction time, a man was sometimes
holding his entire year's pay right there on the "troubled" streets
of Durham. Farmers, auctioneers,
warehouse managers... they weren't the only ones manning the streets. Come auction time, those streets would also
be teeming with people who aimed to separate those folks from their money. I can only imagine the scene as fun and
rowdy, especially when you add the blues musicians to the mix. Blind Boy Fuller is one of the Piedmont
bluesmen who made their living playing in tobacco warehouses and along Rigsbee
Street back then, alongside folk such as Sonny Terry and the Reverend Gary
Davis. And much in the tradition of
great bluesmen of that era, his grave in Durham is unmarked.
I can't stand rap music, but in the wake of the Daily Tar Heel article, I am perfectly
fine with them building speakers and playing this song on a continuous loop
right there at the I-40 border between
our two lovely communities, or to find a way to force it into all of the Chapel Hillians' cars when they drive into our troubled environs to work, visit our DPAC or eat at our Beard award nominated restaurants. Oh, you can't get a reservation? In that case, I got something you can eat right here...
our two lovely communities, or to find a way to force it into all of the Chapel Hillians' cars when they drive into our troubled environs to work, visit our DPAC or eat at our Beard award nominated restaurants. Oh, you can't get a reservation? In that case, I got something you can eat right here...
Durham's own John D. Loudermilk penned this song which
became a hit for UK's Nashville Teens. Loudermilk
(not his only appearance on this list) wrote several songs for several artists,
but by far his biggest hit was "Tobacco Road," which was covered by
several artists ranging from Eddie Cochran to Hank Williams, Jr. Before China took over the world,
"Tobacco Road" symbolized the rich tobacco growing region in the
South East, but now represents the rivalry up 15-501 between Duke and UNC's basketball
programs.
Durham's own John Dee Holeman wrote this song in 1954 about
heading up 15-501 for a good time. I
have always loved the rollicking beat and fun lyrics which hummed through my
head any time I was getting dressed to visit Local 506 (one of the greatest
music venues ever), imagining what good times Holeman must have had back in the
day. However, this song now represents
something far more insidious, thanks to the immature writer at the Daily Tar Heel. I guess going to Chapel Hill to "have a
ball" meant robbing and killing rich people.
God, I used to love the Squirrel Nut Zippers. I mean, I still do. There's little Jimbo Mathus or Catherine
Whalen can do that I won't buy or worship.
But the balance of power has shifted.
Chapel Hill is no music mecca any longer. Durham's Merge Records, at the end of this
decade, will be the closest to a music Grammy that Chapel Hill will touch. Music, film, and art are being created in
Durham, and we thank the elitists for braving the trip up the highway to buy it
and to resell it up in your fancy Orange County foo-foo shops. (We're just going to roll up there and steal
it back anyway.)
While not Durham specific, it makes me wonder why can't we
all just get along? Don't get me wrong,
I realize the writer was just some idiot student who is probably going to grow
up to be an idiot adult. I mean, Durham
doesn't make the news if it's not for some idiot racist shit a Duke student commits. My issue doesn't rest with the writer,
because there is supposed to be some editorial responsibility in play
here. Writers just mouthing off the crap
they believe is called a BLOG. Journalism
sits in its own little corner and cries to the sad strains of a violin,
wondering what went wrong, what went wrong.
And as that violin plays, tripe like the filth in The Daily Tar Heel goes to print.
Patrick Phelan, Durham's own wordsmith, changes the lyrics
from "Cat's Cradle" to "Casbah" to "Motorco" or
"Pinhook," depending on where he's playing and chances are, he'll
play them all. Just another kickass addition to Durham's
kickass music scene.
Chapel Hill isn't the town in the running for Southern Living's goofy "Tastiest
Town in the South." It's not even
in the top twenty. No, that town is
Durham, who for the past month has been either first or second. That's asinine, I understand. We all know the answer is New Orleans, but
our food bloggers and publicists have more time to vote on the internet and
boost the effort. The folks in New
Orleans are still sleeping it off after partying all night and eating the best
food in the South. But I digress: our
restaurant scene is pretty vibrant. Most
vibrant of all is Papa Mojos, with food that will kick your taste buds in the
shins. And the owner's band is something
of a kick too. If you are fortunate
enough to catch him on his harmonica...
Durham's own John D. Loudermilk was a songwriting powerhouse
in his day. His songs have been covered
by a ton of artists. This song was
written about the contents of his pockets after stopping at a drugstore on Main
Street to walk from Old West Durham to South Durham to see his sweetheart. Want your mind blown? Here is a cover by Marilyn
Manson. At any rate, no songwriter
from Chapel Hill holds a candle to the career of John D. Loudermilk. No anything from Chapel Hill holds a candle
to anything over here in Durham. I know
our blessed leader from the DCVB benevolently invited those folks over to spend
a day in Durham, but I would like to offer them to stay the hell away. Hate on Durham all you want. The rest of the world will be coming here and
all Chapel Hill will be known for is John Edwards, Wendell Williamson and a
subpar basketball team. And something we
have to drive through to get to Carrboro.
Whatever.
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