"I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen." "Ya see I’ve got it all figured out." "I’m gonna hang around here until I find out whether I can write songs. And if I can’t then I’m gonna find out why I can’t." "I got this feel for it ya know. I ain’t gonna quit nosir I ain`t."
      Tommy Higgins was telling his story to Paul Hemphill while sipping on a cold one, then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.” Charlene baby!" "My mug needs a new head!" Tommy shouted.
      Charlene was Tommy’s favorite waitress at Tootsie’s. She nodded and brought him another mug of beer.
      As usual Tommy grabbed and pinched her backside, and as usual Charlene would smile and slap his hand away HARD. "Gotta love ya baby!" Tommy said winking.
      Paul Hemphill was a writer, he was writing a book called The Nashville Sound. His book was mainly written about the many interviews he had had with the famous and not so famous singers and songwriters of Country music that happened to wander into Tootsie’s.
      Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge was located in Nashville, Tennessee. It was owned and operated by Tootsie Bess. A small woman in stature but totally full of spit and vinegar. Anybody ever-crossed Tootsie would most likely be tossed out in the street like a rotten apple.
      It was during the early 50s it was heard, that Hank Williams Sr. and Ernest Tubb helped to keep Tootsie in business.
      Jerry Lee Lewis sat across the room looking like he’d lost a bet, and Johnny Cash’s I Walk the Line was playing on the jukebox.
      Paul looked out the window. His gaze took him toward another sound. It was at Ernest Tub’s Record Shop. Loretta Lynn was singing, Don’t Come Home a Drinkin’ With Lovin’ On Your Mind, and you could hear her voice all the way over to Tootsie’s.
      Ernest kept the record Shop’s front doors wide open and it was no wonder, with standing room only, there was always a crowd of people hanging around outside his establishment listening to whoever was singing.
      Then casting his eyes inside again. Paul noticed that lining the walls were dozens and dozens of framed photographs of the many Country music singers that had performed on the Grand Ole Opry. Kitty Wells, Brenda Lee, Patsy Cline, Roy Acuff, Little Jimmy Dickens, George Jones, Grandpa Jones, Tammy Wynette, and dozens more. Above them, high on the third floor walls, we’re covered with over two hundred famed autographs as well.
      Tootsie’s lounge was a popular place, almost as popular as the Grand Ole Opry’s. And of course the well-known Ryman’s Auditorium, which was directly across the alley from Tootsie’s. One could just imagine how busy the lounge could usually get.
      "Catsup Sandwiches." "What?" Paul snapped back into reality and the main reason for him being there. Tommy Higging’s story. It was going to go in his book The Nashville Sound.
      "Catsup sandwiches." Tommy repeated, squashing his cigarette butt into an already dirty ashtray. "Dolly Pardon comes in here everyday and eats catsup sandwiches," he says. "That’s all I’ve ever seen her eat. She lives on ‘em." "But she’s gonna be an Opry star, He continues, "She’s got the voice of an angel." "Yep she’s gonna make it. I gotta feel for it ya know."
      "How about it Tommy?" Paul asked, shyly sipping the foam off the top of his mug. "You say you’re a song writer?"
      "Yep!" Tommy replies. "In fact, I made a sale today!" he chuckled clinking his mug into Paul’s. "That’s what bought me this here beer and pack of smokes." Then he chugged down the rest of it in one gulp.
      Tommy got up. "Sorry friend," he said struggling to his feet. "I gotta go." and tossed a dime on the table for Charlene. "Later Tootsie!" he waved and walked out the door into the chilly night for a long walk home, wherever home might be. Back inside Paul ordered another beer and waited patiently for the next possible interview to come walking into Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge.

Tommy Higgins never became the songwriter he so wanted to be. Being a loner and wanderer most of his life, he gave away more songs than not, just for a night out at Tootsie’s. To be famous one has to have fans. Yet Tommy did have his own set of fans. He hadn’t realized the fact that his family were his greatest fans, His name never became famous, but he will always be remembered in my heart as my Uncle Tommy.

Copyright © 2004 Sally Ann Roberts