On New Years Day, 2019, our annual holiday adventure took us through Tennessee (by car, not bike,
given the unpredictability of winter weather). We stopped in the little town of Newport, Tennessee, drawn there by a geocache, of course. The one Jeff had selected was a war memorial, on the grounds of the courthouse, directly across the street from an old stone building.
Notwithstanding Wikipedia's account of this town as a historical hotbed for moonshine, prostitution, and other hi-jinx, the small town was sleepy on this holiday morning, except for the train that rumbled through on the tracks bisecting a main thoroughfare. On the porch of the old stone building, a man and woman sat watching the world go by.
The gentleman called out to me as I was snapping pictures. They had seen us rolling past a few moments before, and of course, noted the out-of-state license plate. The gentleman was eager to chat, inquiring where we were from and quick to point out that his porch was part of a historical building, an old hotel, as confirmed by the sign hanging outside. He said the building was currently being use as a home for the old and disabled. It had also previously been a hospital, with the next-door building, also built of stone, serving as the doctors' offices.
Except for the notable stone buildings (three in all), the courthouse area was typical of a small town other than the arrangement of eight park benches facing the courthouse steps like church pews. The benches' rainbow hues suggested the were poised to host the guests for a same-sex wedding, to be celebrated on the steps of City Hall, but somehow, I don't think that was really the case. Their purpose remains a mystery.
After completing our stop at the war memorial, we continued on to another geocache just outside of town that I had spotted on the map and thought would be interesting. The geocache description (written in 2010, I believe) read:
For many years Paul Stinson operated a down-home venue for live mountain music in Del Rio. Following his death, his followers continue to operate his club. Then about two years ago, the owner of the building closed it. Within a few days, they located a new home here. The train depot had been used for many purposes over the years, after having been moved to this location. For a time it was Texaco distribution warehouse, and for a time it was a County garage.
Renovations to this building were conducted by Doloris Dalton and Jess Parton, using donated materials recycled from old buildings, an excellent example of green thinking in that old materials are given new life. The windows of the depot were falling out, and there had been several forced entries into the building. So Dolores painted quilt squares on plywood, and Jess replace the windows with quilt panels. On Saturday nights, many local musicians come here to play, and many local residents come to listen.
As we poked around the stone pillar supporting the porch, where we expected to find the cache, a pickup truck pulled in near the building and two people rushed down the hill toward us. Luckily for us, one of them introduced himself as Jesse.
He was excited to see people looking for the geocache. Although the record shows the cache been found recently, he had not seen anyone looking for a long time. Further, the cache was not on top of the stone pillar where we expected to find it. Determined, however, to locate it, Jesse pulled up the cover on the side of the porch and dove under, successfully fishing out the container from behind the stone pillar. As he did so, he provided an account of the history of the building, as above. Then, after we signed the log inside of the cache, and carefully replaced it on top of the pillar behind a loose brick, Jesse offered us a tour of the interior.
The building was wonderful. There was a stage at the far end and old church pews down the center for the audience to sit on. Where the old wooden floor was exposed it shone dark, likely stained with oil from its years as a Texaco warehouse. Along the walls there were booths where you could sit to eat, built by Delores and Jesse, and a small kitchen in the back. The heat pump had been salvaged from government surplus sold off after Katrina, where it had been used to heat tents. Delores saw on the internet that the heat pumps were being sold, and sent Jesse down to Louisiana to get one. They used old packing crate material to finish the walls, and old insulation from a church that was being renovated, to insulate the ceiling, which was otherwise just an open-beam cathedral-style ceiling. Most notably, the windows had been boarded over with plywood, painted in quilt-block patterns.
The walls and tables were decorated with all sorts of memorabilia, speaking of a close knit community of musicians and fans. Jesse took pains to point out a sketch on the back wall of a man he identified as “Hillbilly” (the Paul Stinson referenced above). Jesse said that Hillbilly and his friends would get together to play, which drew crowds of listeners. Jesse‘s mother was among those who used to play with Hillbilly (stand-up bass).The crowds exceeded the size of Hillbilly’s home, where they first gathered, and so he added an outdoor pavilion. After Hillbilly died, the new owner of the land discontinued the concerts for fear of lawsuits. Jesse pointed out to his mother that they could rent this old train depot and make that the new gathering spot. His mother was concerned that the venue wouldn’t be big enough, but Jesse suggested they go ahead and start with that and it’s been a success. He said that some nights there are only four or five patrons, and other times it’s standing room only.
Although we did not get to meet Jesse’s mother, we learned she is a cabinet builder (Spicewood cabinets?) and at 71 still runs her cabinet making business, takes care of her horses and her home, and runs this music venue. I would love to be here on a Saturday night!
Other Tennessee stops included a cantilevered block house and the grave of Davy Crockett's grandparents. Those were also geocaches, of course!
Notwithstanding Wikipedia's account of this town as a historical hotbed for moonshine, prostitution, and other hi-jinx, the small town was sleepy on this holiday morning, except for the train that rumbled through on the tracks bisecting a main thoroughfare. On the porch of the old stone building, a man and woman sat watching the world go by.
The gentleman called out to me as I was snapping pictures. They had seen us rolling past a few moments before, and of course, noted the out-of-state license plate. The gentleman was eager to chat, inquiring where we were from and quick to point out that his porch was part of a historical building, an old hotel, as confirmed by the sign hanging outside. He said the building was currently being use as a home for the old and disabled. It had also previously been a hospital, with the next-door building, also built of stone, serving as the doctors' offices.
Except for the notable stone buildings (three in all), the courthouse area was typical of a small town other than the arrangement of eight park benches facing the courthouse steps like church pews. The benches' rainbow hues suggested the were poised to host the guests for a same-sex wedding, to be celebrated on the steps of City Hall, but somehow, I don't think that was really the case. Their purpose remains a mystery.After completing our stop at the war memorial, we continued on to another geocache just outside of town that I had spotted on the map and thought would be interesting. The geocache description (written in 2010, I believe) read:
For many years Paul Stinson operated a down-home venue for live mountain music in Del Rio. Following his death, his followers continue to operate his club. Then about two years ago, the owner of the building closed it. Within a few days, they located a new home here. The train depot had been used for many purposes over the years, after having been moved to this location. For a time it was Texaco distribution warehouse, and for a time it was a County garage.Renovations to this building were conducted by Doloris Dalton and Jess Parton, using donated materials recycled from old buildings, an excellent example of green thinking in that old materials are given new life. The windows of the depot were falling out, and there had been several forced entries into the building. So Dolores painted quilt squares on plywood, and Jess replace the windows with quilt panels. On Saturday nights, many local musicians come here to play, and many local residents come to listen.
As we poked around the stone pillar supporting the porch, where we expected to find the cache, a pickup truck pulled in near the building and two people rushed down the hill toward us. Luckily for us, one of them introduced himself as Jesse.
He was excited to see people looking for the geocache. Although the record shows the cache been found recently, he had not seen anyone looking for a long time. Further, the cache was not on top of the stone pillar where we expected to find it. Determined, however, to locate it, Jesse pulled up the cover on the side of the porch and dove under, successfully fishing out the container from behind the stone pillar. As he did so, he provided an account of the history of the building, as above. Then, after we signed the log inside of the cache, and carefully replaced it on top of the pillar behind a loose brick, Jesse offered us a tour of the interior.
The building was wonderful. There was a stage at the far end and old church pews down the center for the audience to sit on. Where the old wooden floor was exposed it shone dark, likely stained with oil from its years as a Texaco warehouse. Along the walls there were booths where you could sit to eat, built by Delores and Jesse, and a small kitchen in the back. The heat pump had been salvaged from government surplus sold off after Katrina, where it had been used to heat tents. Delores saw on the internet that the heat pumps were being sold, and sent Jesse down to Louisiana to get one. They used old packing crate material to finish the walls, and old insulation from a church that was being renovated, to insulate the ceiling, which was otherwise just an open-beam cathedral-style ceiling. Most notably, the windows had been boarded over with plywood, painted in quilt-block patterns.
The walls and tables were decorated with all sorts of memorabilia, speaking of a close knit community of musicians and fans. Jesse took pains to point out a sketch on the back wall of a man he identified as “Hillbilly” (the Paul Stinson referenced above). Jesse said that Hillbilly and his friends would get together to play, which drew crowds of listeners. Jesse‘s mother was among those who used to play with Hillbilly (stand-up bass).The crowds exceeded the size of Hillbilly’s home, where they first gathered, and so he added an outdoor pavilion. After Hillbilly died, the new owner of the land discontinued the concerts for fear of lawsuits. Jesse pointed out to his mother that they could rent this old train depot and make that the new gathering spot. His mother was concerned that the venue wouldn’t be big enough, but Jesse suggested they go ahead and start with that and it’s been a success. He said that some nights there are only four or five patrons, and other times it’s standing room only.Although we did not get to meet Jesse’s mother, we learned she is a cabinet builder (Spicewood cabinets?) and at 71 still runs her cabinet making business, takes care of her horses and her home, and runs this music venue. I would love to be here on a Saturday night!
Other Tennessee stops included a cantilevered block house and the grave of Davy Crockett's grandparents. Those were also geocaches, of course!
Additional pictures of the Music Barn:
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