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Editor's Note:
After writing the last six years' worth of the Best of Knoxville in the exact same manner, this year we decided to do it a little differently. Or, rather, much differently—in fact, we turned the whole thing into a hard-boiled detective story. We're hoping this'll be more entertaining than the usual list of blurbs, while still cluing you in as to why these winners are deserving of their awards. (If you'd like to see the complete list of winners by category, click the "Full List" button below.) Also, our lawyers would like us to apologize beforehand to all those involved.

Special Online-Only Bonus!

When we asked John Mayer to illustrate our Best of Knoxville detective novel, he didn't just throw together some drawings. No, he wrote his own entire story starring Knoxville Confidential detective Solomon Panzer. So please join us now as we enter the alternate-universe version of The Lost Knoxville Caper.

Chapter Nine

"That is what I wished men to think," the somber figure answered in a resonant baritone, grimly precise in its diction. "That's why I allowed the underground paper Common Sense to chronicle my adventures in a comic strip format. Unfortunately, Common Sense was crushed by powerful political forces after running an episode lampooning the mayor.

"There was a strong counterculture movement in Knoxville then. The so-called hippy generation foreswore materialism and dedicated itself to nature, peace, love, independence, self-reliance and a return to commerce on a human scale. I, with my faithful Sikh companion Letz Singh, was their self-appointed champion, crusading to protect them from the ruthless Death Kulture they opposed. Sadly, that generation is dead and buried, buried under layers of fat acquired in fast food restaurants, buried under SUVs and BMWs, DVDs, ITVs and 401Ks.

"When I saw my beloved Fort Sanders disappearing, when even the home of James Agee was not spared, I grew dispirited and left to live a life of quiet contemplation in India, a more spiritual land I had grown to love during my days as an exchange student there. Then Letz Singh brought me word of events unfolding in neighboring Nepal that bore upon the town of my birth. I have returned to find matters even worse than I feared, Fort Sanders all but gone.

"For reasons I do not fully comprehend, the leaders of this town have always struggled to destroy it; only the lack of funds for things like 'urban renewal' have spared such jewels as The Bijou and The Tennessee Theatre.

"Lamentably, the building that should have symbolized our town, the building poet Carl Sandburg called 'one of the finest places on earth,' was torn down to create Knoxville's first mall. In its place we have, as the icon of our city, an edifice more akin to the Golden Arches�. Knoxville is now represented by a featureless ball of gold."

"Do you intend to stay and rejoin the struggle?" I asked him.

"It is almost too late. But we will see. Carry on the good fight, Knoxvillians!" With that he launched a grappling hook to the top of the Candy Factory and scampered up the wall like the durable insect whose name he bore, the totem of the hippies of the Fort Sanders of three decades past.

Dazed by all that had occurred, Rowena clasped my hand. "Who was that masked man?" she demanded.

"Ma'am," I replied, "that was The Cockroach!"

To be continued? Only The Cockroach knows!

April 27, 2000 * Vol. 10, No. 17
© 2000 Metro Pulse