þ7#`7jN_7h h h h h h.�h¾h¾h¾h¾ hÈhØhØhi@xh¾i¸ iØiÿ*j)h iÿiðiÿiÿj)%iÿiÿiÿiÿiÿiÿRenaissance City by Jack Neely ItÕs about 10 o'clock on a Tuesday night, and this is what you can see from one street corner: A saxophonist plays wild jazz, accompanied by a drum machine. Passersby drop change into his case. Through a restaurant window, middle-aged people in coats and ties look over a menu with entrees priced in the teens and 20s. A guy in a corduroy hat wanders down the sidewalk with a four-foot-long flute, an Australian didgeridoo. Outside a nightclub, kids in their 20s line up to pay $5 to see a funk-rock band. A 60ish black man lopes by in Miles Davis shades and a silver scarab ring. An old Karmann Ghia sputters by. Down the street, people come and go from a huge brewpub, which is packed tonight with at least 125 pizza-eating, porter-swilling revelers, mostly Boomers, drinking beer brewed in that building, listening to a live five-piece bluegrass band. On the sidewalk outside, men in graying beards invoke the name of 14th-century Dominican theologian Meister Eckehart in a lively argument about precisely what became of Jesus after the Resurrection. And thatÕs just what you can see and hear along a single block. There are lots of other things going on. I know because I promised half a dozen people IÕd come attend a poetry reading here, a folk show there, an art show down that other street, before I realized there wasnÕt time to do everything in downtown Asheville, N.C., on a Tuesday night. Take a clone of Knoxville, with a similar median income, similar poverty rate, similar educational level, similar ethnic makeup. Keep it in the Southern Appalachians, in a Republican congressional district, on a smaller version of the same French Broad that flows into Knoxville. Divide its population by three, and age its median citizen by several years. Place it miles farther away from the regionÕs most popular tourist attractions. Strip it of all its corporate headquarters, and cut its home university to one-eighth its size. Cancel two-thirds of its weekly airline flights. Delete most of its nationally ranked restaurants, most of its FM radio and TV stations. Decrease its number of library books per capita. Increase its number of Baptist churches per capita. If you did all that, youÕd have, on paper, something very much like Asheville, N.C. Sound like fun? Asheville doesnÕt necessarily make sense on paper, and thatÕs part of its considerable charm. The place is a mystery. Here on a mountain top is a tiny city with a downtown about as big as KnoxvilleÕs and often more lively, more diverse, more urban. Of course, some of AshevilleÕs impact may owe a lot to its concentration; most of its distinctive businesses are consolidated in 20 square blocks of downtown. If Knoxville were to centralize all its most interesting restaurants, stores, and cultural attractions in one place, surely it would be plenty impressive. But in some ways, on a level playing field, Asheville still has us licked: ¥ Asheville has more independent bookstores than Knoxville. TheyÕve got the big discount chains, too, and like Knoxville, they also have a large number of ÒChristianÓ bookstores. But they also have more locally owned independents. ¥ Asheville has more independent record stores than Knoxville does. ¥ Almost a year before Metro Pulse went weeklyÑwhen some were suggesting that Knoxville was too small a community to support both a daily and an alternative weeklyÑAsheville was already supporting a daily and a culturally liberal, entertainment-oriented independent weekly. A year later, both are still thriving. ¥ Asheville has several nightclubs that feature live original music nightly. Some suspect its nightclub scene is livelier than KnoxvilleÕs, but thatÕs hard to prove. However, one nightclub in particular, the Be Here Now, consistently attracts more nationally famous music acts than any club or group of clubs in Knoxville. ¥ And disaffected Knoxvillians make other claims for Asheville, such as better clothes shopping, more gallery space, more antique stores, more Thai restaurants. Is there something for us to learn here? The Spoiler Asheville seems deliberately calculated to ruin all the cherished complacency of KnoxvilleÕs municipal fatalists, who say that KnoxvilleÕs just too small and too remote to ever have a vibrant urban life. Asheville is much smallerÑand with only a fraction of KnoxvilleÕs airline flights and less interstate traffic, itÕs fair to say that AshevilleÕs more remote. Well, then, our downtownÕs too hilly (AshevilleÕs is hillier). We donÕt have enough free parking. (ThereÕs no free parking in Asheville, either. At least one lot in downtown Asheville charges $10 a day, more than any lot in Knoxville does.) Well, then, it must be that KnoxvilleÕs just too blamed conservative to get anything going. ThatÕs a more complicated factor. But in balance, Asheville seems as politically conservative as Knoxville. ItÕs certainly as Bible-Belt as we are, maybe more so; with numerous Christian retreats in its environs, Asheville claims to be Òthe nationÕs largest religious assembly area.Ó In downtown Asheville you see posters for visiting evangelists everywhere. Politically, AshevilleÕs the population center of North CarolinaÕs 11th district, which has voted Republican in five of the last six elections. Its representative is Republican Charles Taylor, a strident conservative. In 1990, half of Ashevillians voted for incumbent Jesse Helms, perhaps the most right-wing senator in America. The most obvious monument in town is the huge obelisk on the square in memory of Zebulon Vance, the Confederate general. And AshevilleÕs famous as a retirement community. The median Ashevillian is almost eight years older than the median Knoxvillian. Many older people come to Asheville to see flowers and antiques and changing leaves. But how do you account for all the kids packing the rock clubs, skateboarding down Lexington, tacking up radical posters, drinking exotic coffees at Beanstreets? Clearly, said the sixth blind man, this is a college town. Indeed, there are two colleges in Asheville, counting a two-year community technical college; and three more in the immediate area, counting a religious school. But UNCA, the biggest presence, enrolls only about 3,000, and itÕs not downtown. In fact, there are more than twice as many college students immediately adjacent to downtown Knoxville than there are within an hourÕs drive of Asheville. If college students have a lot to do with AshevilleÕs success, theyÕre clearly much more daring, vigorous, and diverse in their tastes than UT student consumers. If you ever get to talk to the Asheville Chamber of CommerceÕs director of PR, Marla Tambellini, donÕt mention that Asheville reminds you of a great big Little Five Points, AtlantaÕs famous collegiate intersection. Even if you mean it as a compliment, she may sound a little offended. ÒI see a much greater level of sophistication here,Ó she says. ÒAshevilleÕs more upscale.Ó But then, her point wonÕt wash with the folks at the counter at VincentÕs Ear. ItÕs a bar/cafe/gallery in the rear of a lovely old courtyard on Lexington, reputedly AshevilleÕs most bohemian avenue. It looks like an ancient legend in Venice, but in fact itÕs been open for less than three years. ÒItÕs homey,Ó says Kristen, the owner. ÒItÕs like living in a student-ghetto apartment.Ó (She has discovered, as most of us do too late, that student-ghetto life is the best way of life America has yet devised.) The doorÕs open to the sunny patio just after lunchtime, and there are three guys at the bar. All three look like college students, but none is. One from Chicago and one from Nevada are talking about AshevilleÕs Òstrong experimental music scene.Ó They say thereÕs an especial interest in electronic and industrial music here. They also mention the local interest in artÑmodern art, not the tourist landscapes you find across the mountain in Gatlinburg. The third is a refugee from Chapel Hill, once the intellectual haven of the Southeast, which, he says, is stagnatingÑmuch unlike Asheville. Who are these people? Some are indeed college students. Many, itÕs claimed, are professional artists, attracted to the scenery and the supportive community. One veteran entrepreneur fondly slights several as Òtrust-fund babies.Ó Some are involved in some recovery program or other. And some are probably tourists. I just didnÕt meet any. ManyÑa couple thousand, at leastÑare young people employed in the tourist industry. Practically on top of a mountain, with other mountain tops clearly visible from downtown, Asheville is picturesque in a way Knoxville can never be. And theyÕve got the beautiful, historic Biltmore nearby. But even thatÕs not so clear. Mention to an Asheville townie the notion that Biltmore House and Gardens is key to downtownÕs success, and they may well spew French roast on you in an incredulous guffaw. Some who patronize these places do work at the Biltmore, but surely not enough to make this difference. Some downtowners have never even seen the place. The mountains, then? Well, maybe. AshevilleÕs actually in them. But isnÕt it Knoxville that claims to be the Gateway to the Smokies, the most popular national park on the continent? And arenÕt we much closer to its main gates? The Asheville Advantage So what does Asheville have that Knoxville doesnÕt? One answer is architecture. When Òurban renewalÓ was all the rage, Asheville was so broke they couldnÕt pay demolition crews to destroy their most interesting old buildings, as we did. (That account of AshevilleÕs ÒpreservationÓ is the party line, straight from Ms. Tambellini at the Chamber.) Architects did some interesting work here, and much of itÕs still standing, comprising whatÕs reputedly the most complete document of American architecture in the stateÑlikely in a larger region as well. In the cornice of the century-old Drhumor building, one whimsical architect included the face of a sad old guy who showed up every day to watch him carve. ItÕs still there, giving tourists reason to point. Chamber-approved brochures irreverently term the building an example of ÒVictorian excessÓÑbut they include it on an architectural tour, anyway, as well they should. Diagonally across the street is a much newer architectural feature, a profile in brick emerging from a Merrill Lynch office. ItÕs an imaginative sculpture of a 19th-century Ashevillian, allegedly the first female M.D. Why is it here in the side of Merrill-Lynch? Only because she once attended school in a long-gone building that stood near this site. Imbedded in the sidewalk right across Patton is a brass plaque. ItÕs there only because the short-story writer O. Henry rented an office in another long-ago demolished building near there in 1909. Pedestrians new to town stop, surprised. Imbedded with the plaque are a bronze comb, a lock of hair, and a watch fob, symbolic connections to HenryÕs best-known story, ÒThe Gift of the Magi.Ó They look at it, and smile, and talk. ItÕs an urban conversation piece. ItÕs not AshevilleÕs history thatÕs successful. (The course of American history and culture arguably owes much more to Knoxville.) What sets Asheville apart so vividly and successfully is the cityÕs interpretation of its history. Actual historical or literary significance aside, thereÕs no question that AshevilleÕs is more visible, more attractive, more fun. ItÕs not O. HenryÕs relationship with Asheville that works, but contemporary residentsÕ imaginative interpretations of it. Despite the writerÕs rather glancing relationship with AshevilleÑhe spent only a few unproductive months of his life hereÑhe rates more than a page in the standard Chamber of Commerce mailing. ThereÕs a nightclub called O. HenryÕs, a street called O. Henry Avenue, and, on Patton, an imaginative sidewalk commemoration. Thomas Wolfe is the name you see most. HeÕs everywhere, much more visible in Asheville today than he was when he was alive. HeÕs the essential Ashevillian phenomenon. His books arenÕt read or taught much today; many modern academics dismiss him as anti-Semitic, undisciplined, overrated. And Thomas Wolfe didnÕt much like Asheville. In his most famous novel, he described ÒAltamontÓ (read Asheville) as a Òbarren spiritual wildernessÓ which nurtured a Òhostile and murderous entrenchment against all new life.Ó Is it really the unflattering characterizations by a long-dead, little-read author that give Asheville its edge? Well, maybe so. Ashevillians were, in fact, enshrining WolfeÕs home before they even allowed his books in their library. With guided tours every half-hour, the Wolfe boarding house sees a steady stream of visitors, many of whom (to judge by the group I was in) have never even read Look Homeward, Angel. In addition to that house, much of downtown Asheville is named for him: the Thomas Wolfe Auditorium and the Thomas Wolfe Plaza, where theyÕre building another Wolfe shrine, a huge museum which will feature a film about his life. A historic trail honors Wolfe and scenes from his novels with imaginative statuary showing, for example, where his fatherÕs engraving shop was. An annual Thomas Wolfe festival draws thousands of pilgrims each October. The central part of the Asheville library is devoted to a conspicuous Wolfe exhibit and archive. All this should be here. Not necessarily because Thomas Wolfe deserved it, but because the people of modern Asheville do. Literary associations are part of the appeal of one of AshevilleÕs biggest employers, the ancient Grove Park Inn, where Fitzgerald, Henry, et al. stayedÑmany of them commemorated with plaques on the doors. The Local as Radical ThereÕs also something else about Asheville thatÕs harder for a Chamber of Commerce to jump-start. Sure, this is a hotbed of fundamentalism. Maybe in spite of that, maybe because of it, Asheville is a Òdo unto othersÓ kind of place. Jim Bixby is an art director who had lived in Knoxville most of his adult life until moving to Asheville three years ago. He strongly prefers his new home. ÒThough KnoxvilleÕs diverse,Ó he says, ÒAshevillians are more okay with differences in people.Ó Emoke Bracz is proprietor of MalapropÕs bookstore and coffeehouse, which she opened in 1982. The bookstoreÕs reputation extends far beyond the borders of North Carolina. Many credit Bracz with inciting the rebirth of downtown Asheville. Originally from Budapest, she spent about 25 years in the northeast before moving south in the early Õ80s. Touring the region, she sought a place to settle and open her bookstore. She took a hard look at KnoxvilleÑbut says she was put off by what she saw as Òan edge of greed.Ó She settled on Asheville because she liked its easy personality. ÒAsheville is wonderfully different,Ó she says in a soft Hungarian accent. ÒThe people here are tolerant of us, as mountain folk are.Ó Suburban Asheville has its share of chain mega-bookstores which, in other cities, succeed in forcing the local independents out of business. They havenÕt here. ÒWe donÕt try to compete. What doesnÕt work is cutthroat business practices. You have to be different,Ó she says, to offer goods the mainstream stores donÕt carry at radically discounted prices. (Among the most conspicuous today, a Dr. Seuss classic in Spanish: El Lorax.) In the basement is a comfortable coffee house. ÒZelda [Fitzgerald] came to Asheville to recover,Ó she says. ÒLots of people come here to recover from whatÕs out there.Ó In front of her shop, she gestures proudly at the old St. Lawrence church, the double-towered cathedral recently designated by the pope as a Òminor basilica.Ó You canÕt quite see it from here, but that church has a conspicuous display in its yard: a symbolic abortion graveyard. The conservative basilica and the liberal bookstore coexist peacefully. In addition to her variety of gay and lesbian literature, Bracz carries Catholic and other Christian inspirational books in her store. ÒItÕs such a bizarre market,Ó says Robert Fierstein, sales manager for the Mountain Xpress. ÒIn Asheville we have Christian KarateÑand itÕs located right next to OctopusÕs Garden, which sells rolling papers.Ó For that matter, a recent gathering of witches met openly in the rear of the Christian-dominated Habitat for Humanity, and got a nice profile in the Xpress. In that paper, a paid advertisement for Jesus appears on the same page as another for the Goddess Store, and one for the Southern Dharma Retreat Center. In a downtown auditorium named for Charlton Heston, the Asheville Community Theatre plans for another performance of My Fair LadyÑwhile blocks away, in a crowded downtown bar a young man plays ÒSweet Georgia BrownÓ extremely fast, accompanied by a woman on a muted trumpet, as a tall transvestite dances a modified watusi. A basset hound looks on impassively. Is Asheville liberal or conservative? Some say extremely one, others say extremely the other; most seem annoyed by the choices. Gay Streets IÕm Transgender and I Vote, reads a bumper sticker on Haywood. Asheville has a long-nurtured reputation for tolerance of all sorts, especially that of alternate sexual orientations. Some credit Malaprops with much of that, but others insist the tradition goes back decades. Asked to explain the lively success of independent Asheville, itÕs not unusual for local business people and local boosters to mumble something about the gay and lesbian community here. Realizing theyÕre about to suggest that homosexuals have better taste than heterosexuals, they stop right there, maybe with some vague reference to euphemisms like Òalternative culture.Ó Other Òalternative culturesÓ thrive here, too, from various ÒrecoveryÓ programs (that tradition goes all the way back to Scott and ZeldaÕs days) to New Agers (some call Asheville the ÒBoulder of the EastÓ). Many of these folks are single. Are they more open-minded than the rest of us, more imaginative, more likely to patronize the small, independent shops that make Asheville remarkable? The key may be as simple as this: most gays and single heterosexuals donÕt have kids. Adults without kids can go out at night. No oneÕs nagging them to eat at McDonaldÕs. They donÕt avoid china shops and art galleries. Gays and other adults without kids patronize, exclusively, things that are interesting to adults, namely shops and restaurants and nightclubs that are distinctive and different from what theyÕve got at home. Unlike the money spent by family vacationers, which often goes to chain restaurants and motels, the single touristÕs dollar is more likely to go directly into the local economy, and stay there. That benefit may be an accidental one. Asheville doesnÕt market itself as any sort of adults-only place. Downtown, the central Pack Museum seems designed for kids. Most of AshevilleÕs festivals are kid-friendly, and some are aimed at children. Asheville does draw parents, the more assertive ones, even if their kids canÕt wait to get back to the Happy Meals of I-40. Being There The Be Here Now is the sort of nightclub that gains currency far outside its host city. This downtown bar brings in major acts. Last month alone, it hosted live performances from Black Uhuru, the Commitments, Janis Ian, Tom Paxton, and many others, major national acts, most on tours that bypassed Knoxville. Since the untimely death of Ella GuruÕs, no nightclub in Knoxville has brought in lineups like that in a given month. A visitor to a Steve Earle show a few weeks ago observed that a large portion of the crowd at the Be Here Now were actually Knoxvillians coming to see a show that hadnÕt made it down to Knoxville. In fact, the club employs KnoxvilleÕs own AC Entertainment for many of its big hitters. Booking agent Ashley Capps ascribes much of the clubÕs success to the physical space itself. ÒItÕs a great room, holds 400 peopleÑitÕs a much nicer nightclub situation than anything Knoxville has. ItÕs not at all unusual to book an act in Asheville that bypasses Knoxville.Ó So a whole stratum of rock ÕnÕ roll and country bands too big for honky-tonks and not big enough for arenas chooses to play a small sub-college town over a three-times-larger, mega-college town. Capps also ascribes AshevilleÕs success to a more supportive environment. ÒOf course, one thing that may make Knoxville seem less supportive than Asheville is that Knoxville does have more [entertainment] options.Ó Asheville has fewer movie theaters, fewer spectator sports, and (though they do have a symphony, which is remarkable in itself), fewer performing-arts productions. Planning Spontaneity ÒKnoxville does seem more conservative,Ó sighs AshevilleÕs Business Development Coordinator Mary H. Fierle, when asked to explain the relative success of AshevilleÕs downtown. She sounds empathetic, like a bride concerned about her older, larger sister who never found the right man. Fierle lived in Knoxville for a while in the mid-80s, and tries to think of something nice to say, fondly recalling Saturday Night on the Town as a distinct Knoxville triumph. SheÕs astonished to hear itÕs no longer afoot, and asks why. Asheville knows festivals: they host no fewer than 30 a year in downtown alone. ThereÕs a downtown Greek Festival, a downtown Kuumba, a Shindig on the Green, other parties with bold names like Kituwah and Goombay. First Night, a New YearÕs Eve party, is family-oriented. Their old-time music hoedown, the Mountain Dance and Folk Festival, goes back decades. For many, the high point of the year is Bele Chere, a hot-weather Mardi Gras, which attracted 300,000 celebrants at the end of July. Several are original Ashevillian ideas, and most of them more successful than KnoxvilleÕs more cautious efforts. Asheville seems spontaneous, but public policy nurtured it. The cityÕs Downtown Development Office, formed in 1986 after a municipal referendum defeated a proposal to level 11 blocks of downtown Asheville to build a shopping mall, came up with a comprehensive plan that incorporated pragmatic projects like parking garages with some more intuitive notions, like encouraging street performers. They also discouraged big signs (50 square feet is the maximum), and commissioned public artwork. Most of the funding was private, with public funds contributing only one dollar for every eight raised privately. ÒA lot of people judge a community by its downtown,Ó says Fierle. ÒAsheville feels cosmopolitan. It feels like a little big city. Being a vibrant, attractive center city, it makes it seem more attractive to live here.Ó Efforts like the urban trails commemorating literary and historical figures (privately funded, but administered by the city) are targeted as much at residents as at tourists. ÒFor the people that live here, it gives them a sense of community, a sense of heritage,Ó Fierle says. And for tourists, Òheritage tourism is extremely marketable,Ó described in polls as one of the most compelling reasons to travel. A conservative swing in citywide sentiment has dried up the public trough; the Downtown Development Office, renamed City Development, now offers mostly moral support to private projects. It seems to have worked already. Condos in downtown Asheville are going for $700 a month, lofts for $375. ÒThereÕs more demand than supply,Ó Fierle says. Office space is over 83 percent occupied. Retail space is near capacity. And the population of taxpaying, city-limits Asheville has swelled by thousands in the past few years. Then she starts talking about the folks in the coffeehousesÑreading poetry, playing chess, working crossword puzzlesÑas a positive thing. ÒBohemianism adds flavor and character to the community,Ó she says. This reporter, unaccustomed to hearing such talk from a city official, asks her to repeat herself. To be fair, much of downtown Asheville is very new. Some locals donÕt trust it, suspecting that perhaps the city has overextended itself, spread itself too thin for what it can support in the long term. But for now, AshevilleÕs having fun. If you get a rummy chill walking down Lexington, it may be Scott and ZeldaÕs envy of the living, and the living in Asheville. KnoxvilleÕs still more than twice the size of Asheville, but the gapÕs narrowing. 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