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.