Bristol, One Town, Two States

Driving into Bristol, we were welcomed with a landmark sign erected in 1910 that informed us that half the town is located in Virginia and the other half in Tennessee. The sign crosses from one side of State Street to the other as it stands a proud mom claiming and showing off her child. It can't be missed. Or so one would think.

We checked into our hotel, Sessions. It is, as the town is, music based. It has an old time feel. I caught whimsical music inspired thingamajigs at every corner: microphones turned into lights, vintage posters, and record players. A fun thing to do is to borrow the vinyls and record player and pregame in your room.

Unfortunately we were there on a weekday and there was no live music. We decided hit the local pub to have a drink...perhaps we had more. We definitely had more. I blame the waitress. I ordered my rum and diet Coke. She asked if I wanted a double shot. I am 64 years old and never has anyone ever asked that. “Yes, of course I do!”

It was dusk. The Bristol sign is all neon lights so we wanted to see it lit up at night. We walked down State Street. We walked up State Street. No Bristol sign in sight. We stopped walking, scratched our heads, and made sure we were on the correct street. We walked up a the street again. “This IS where we saw it this afternoon, right,” I questioned my husband. He assured me it was. We looked again. No Bristol sign in sight. I wouldn’t consider myself a very observant person but how can I miss a colossal sign containing 1,332 lights?! We walked into a restaurant for a bite to eat. We asked our waitress if the sign was on this street. As we suspected she said yes. She assured us we could see it from where we were. “You can’t miss it!” We left the restaurant and looked again. Nothing! We stood outside wondering if someone had stolen it. How could we miss it!

It was getting a bit darker. We should have definitely been able to see it now. Had all the bulbs burnt out at the same time, all 1,332?! A kind soul with southern hospitality came out of the restaurant. He had heard our conversation with the waitress and was obviously embarrassed for us. He informed us that the sign lights up at 7:30 and we would indeed see it if we walked up a block. We walked with fingers crossed. In the distance we saw a glowing vision. There it was in all its glory. Revealing that Bristol was “a good place to live.” We are still not sure how we missed it. It is considerably noticeable. I would definitely tell someone, “You can’t miss it” yet we did. I blame the double shot.

Bristol is known for The Bristol Sessions. Many prominent country musicians, most notably The Carter Family and Jimmie Rodgers, gathered in 1927 to be part of the first professional recording of country music known as The Bristol Sessions. As a result, Bristol is known as the "birthplace of country music”. In 2014, The Birthplace of Country Music Museum was established. That was our first stop the next morning. Our guide, Jim, brought us through the museum. It is small but loaded with information, videos, and a few hands on displays including a booth in which you can record yourself singing a country song. Nashville will not be calling me anytime soon. Jim asked if I knew how many groves were on a full size vinyl. I answered not realizing he wanted to be the one to inform his audience. “One continuous grove, “ I replied. He scrutinizingly nodded. “Wanna try another?” “Yeah. Hit me.” He eye-balled me. I glared. “What’s the mechanical difference between a violin and a fiddle?” I had the audacity to smirk. “The violin has strings. A fiddle has strangs.” He chuckled, “Yes, ma’am. This girl is good!” I reckon the New Yorker won over the southerner.

On February 1, 1960 four African American college students in Greensboro, North Carolina, 188 miles from Bristol, sat at a Woolworth lunch counter. They were not only refused service by the all White staff but were forcibly removed all while remaining peaceful. Due to their efforts, Woolworth’s lunch counters were desegregated on July 25 of that same year. So when I spied a Woolworth lunch counter in Bristol, I had to have lunch there. The counter top had been replaced but the rest looked untouched, vintage. Antiquated advertisement posters and nostalgic cartoon representations of food lined the back wall. At the counter, sat two men having a conversation with the man behind the counter. They spoke about neighborhood concerns and football. A young woman ran the cash register, while a middle-aged man and woman ran the counter. One older woman was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the soup of the day. The food was very simple: hamburgers, BLT’s, hot dogs. Here’s the irony. It’s managed by a Black family, grandmother, mother, daughter, and mother’s best friend. They had to close through Covid. Reopened but were unable to hire help due to the increase in minimum wage. So six days a week, they close on Sundays, they band together and work hard to fulfill their dream.

Bristol is a small town, not too much to do if it isn’t the Rhythm and Roots Reunion Music Festival or if there’s no car race at the Bristol motor Speedway. I don’t know if it’s “a good place to live” but if you want a weekend getaway, it’s a good place to visit.