Savannah Morning News
16 May 2004
Of pyramids, pork barbeque and the
Mississippi River
There
is something magical about living on the water, watching the sun set - no matter
creek, river, inlet or ocean - no matter houseboat, high rise or flat.
If it's not the
way the day's last light catches the orange of a vase filled with yellow tulips,
filling the room with shades of apricot or tangerine, it's the languid pace of a
barge making its way down the mighty Mississippi, as one will occasionally do in
the riverfront town of Memphis. Only now, instead of cotton bales stacked on
riverboats, there are tourists lined up for a ride on the Memphis Queen.
Somewhere on
the waterfront a sign reads, "The cobblestones are a historic landmark that
present an uneven walking surface," followed by another, very 21st-century
warning near a slightly elevated Illinois Central platform: "A fall may
result in severe injury."
But we are not
walking on the cobblestones of Memphis or climbing on a platform. We are sitting
12 stories up on the rooftop terrace of the Shrine, a restored downtown building
from the early 1900's, my friend Lucilla and I, talking of the day. Shaking our
heads over people who don't want to give Saccharine to someone we know with
cancer because the sugar substitute "might cause cancer." Remembering
the time Lucilla visited Savannah and woke up to polish my silverware as a
house-warming present. Listening to a trolley that makes a big loop around the
downtown. Staring at the Pyramid Arena, an oddity on the Mississippi that just
lost its best tenant, the Memphis Grizzlies, a professional basketball team.
I've never been
to the Pyramid.
So the next
morning, before the thermometer hits 90, I leave the Shrine and walk down Front
Street, past the Customs House, under the hardy and exotic ginkgo trees that
line Memphis' downtown streets and through Confederate Park. The Pyramid is
taller than I realize, 32 stories, and built of stainless steel.
But early on a
Sunday morning, there's not much else to see.
Not too far
away, near the courthouse and scads of bail bonds' companies - never a good sign
for a city - is the sprawling campus and gold dome of St. Jude's Children's
Research Hospital, Danny Thomas' legacy and a jewel for the city - a nice
counterpoint to the unfortunate chapter of the Lorraine Motel and the late
Martin Luther King, Jr.
St. Jude's is
locked up though, so I continue walking. Now close to Beale Street and the
famous Peabody Hotel, both familiar landmarks, I find myself standing in front
of something new and dazzling - AutoZone Park, home to the Memphis Redbirds, a
Triple-A baseball club belonging to the St. Louis Cardinals.
And that's when
I understand for the first time what the owners of Savannah's Sand Gnats want as
a replacement venue for the old Grayson Stadium.
This is a
knockout facility. The gates are open, despite the early hour, so I peer into
the cavernous stadium. Later I learn the team is averaging 11,000 fans a game.
Between the gates and the field, there's a lively concourse with a batting cage,
a radar gun for pitchers and a climbing wall.
The stadium,
which cost a cool $46 million, was financed, or so I read, by private funds.
That makes sense, but the second stadium I see less than a mile away, FedEx
Forum, does not. This one, which awaits the Grizzlies and overlooks historic
Beale Street, is publicly financed. I wish them luck paying it off.
I don't follow
the Grizzlies. But I do dabble in barbecue, so when a Savannah friend said to
try the Cozy Corner, we headed that way. But darn if it wasn't closed Sunday and
Monday. No matter. Everyone in Memphis always knows another spot.
On to Tops
Bar-B-Q, open since 1952 and pretty good, too.
But I would
miss the really big show on the riverfront, this weekend's 27th annual
International Memphis Barbecue Contest, now known as Memphis in May. All I saw
of that were rows and rows of tents in Tom Lee Park, 250 of them, and the
judge's grandstand, the Pork Authority.
A guard
standing with a program counted the "teams" for me. There were 107 in
the ribs' category; 85 cooking whole hogs; 40 doing shoulders; and 37 in what
they call the "patio" or backyard classification.
Their names
included Barefoot in the Pork, Adribbers, Not Ready for Swine Time Porkers,
Swine-O-Mite and Slap Yo Mama.
No one was
cooking yet, but I swear the scent of hickory - and tomato, mustard and vinegar
sauce - was in the air the minute we drove into town.
Then again, I
thought I saw stacks of cotton bales cruising down the Nile River in Cairo.
Oops.
Wrong pyramids.
Must have been
the heat.
Jane Fishman's
column and stories appear occasionally in the Savannah Morning News.