Jim Myers

jtmyers@tennessean.com

Tiki bar.

Two words that reverberated through parts of the city like a gut punch.

Two words, it turns out, that were just a rumor, a most nasty rumor, that the beloved, smoky, grimy, smelly and all-around fabulous Melrose Billiards would close and be turned into a tiki bar.

No tiki bar, not this time at least. The alarms were false.

Nonetheless, after 47 years, the iconic and dank pool hall/bar tucked into the moist basement (yeah, I went there) of the Melrose business strip would indeed change hands.

This seems to be happening with greater frequency these days, when beloved places in long-neglected areas suffer at the cash-laden hands of interlopers. When news strikes, we rend our rolled jeans (not the I+W ones, those are too expensive) and lament the pending disappearance of those places we used to visit. Hindsight is sepia-toned and happy. Reality is more complicated.

The Melrose Billiards story, though, seems different, and interesting. It is not without shading and innuendo, but it brings to light some of the questions we need to be asking of ourselves and our community about what Nashville is and what we want it to be. On a more fundamental level, how do we preserve Nashville's cultural soul?

Melrose Billiards to close; new bar planned for space

Tiki, torched

Austin Ray smiles and hesitates. Sitting by the window in his bar, M.L. Rose on Eighth Avenue South, he looks over his shoulder at the old Melrose strip, where he now co-owns and manages The Sutler Saloon and will take possession of the lease for the billiards basement on Oct. 1. He doesn't know from whence the tiki bar rumor came, but he heard deep and clear the anguished cries, so much so that he penned an open letter to help quell the feverish boil.

The letter is actually quite eloquent. Ray makes it very clear that, as a Nashvillian, he feels a responsibility as to how he treats iconic properties.

"I was born at Baptist Hospital, grew up about a mile from Melrose, went to Hillsboro High, and bowled with my family and friends at Melrose Lanes as a kid. Now I’m emotionally and financially invested in, like it or not, a 'new Nashville' market that requires us to make money and pay higher rents to stay alive. The meteoric change in Nashville isn’t happening in the way we would all like it to. It can’t. Change comes whether we like it or not, but sometimes we get lucky enough to influence how it happens and keep some things alive that might otherwise fade away forever," he says in the well-circulated missive.

Sitting there, Ray hesitates again, choosing his words carefully, because the last thing he wants is to be back in the villain seat.

What he talks about at first, though, is other properties that could face a similar crossroads. The Villager Tavern. Brown's Diner. Springwater. Betty's. Twin Kegs. Rotier's. The Station Inn. They are small, independent businesses that possibly stand in the way of future large-scale development.

Melrose Billiards was a bit more complicated. Jim and Jerry Chandler, the brothers who took over the space in 1969 (it opened in 1947), had been operating without a lease for at least the past four years, according to Ray.

Property owner Joe Parkes, who is also co-owner of the Sutler with Ray, says there was no lease when he and his other partners bought the property. "We had numerous conversations, but nothing that led to a deal," says Parkes. When Parkes asked Ray if he wanted a shot at the space, Ray jumped, saying a large part of his interest was to ensure the preservation of the sorely neglected space in need of a major utilities overhaul. What both men agreed on was to clean the place up but "not make it too slick."

Ray already has a track record after his efforts trying to revive the lost Sutler legacy and his preservation of the old Lavender Motors on Charlotte Pike where he put his second M.L. Rose.

Also, it's hard to fault the Chandlers for any lack of investment over the past few years without a lease in place.

Further muddying the waters, during the reporting of this story, the entire building was sold. With Sinema, Fenwick's 300, The Sutler and now Melrose Billiards under stable contract, one can only hope the new owners recognize the cultural patrimony that anchors that small strip of Nashville.

Back to the future like

Ray also talked about how places like Dino's and the Loveless Cafe share some makeover DNA, and how updating a classic comes with lose-lose challenges. There are camps that will always lament the loss of caked-on dust and the beautiful foulness of authenticity. Others say good riddance to old properties, their own memories hermetically sealed in the clean and bright past. Almost everyone, though, welcomes new bathrooms.

Finally, the discussion turns to those who complain the loudest that are often the least frequent customers and haven't darkened the door in years. But, by God, they'll tell you you better not tear the place down.

Tom Morales certainly understands the conundrum of reviving icons. When considering how to update and expand the Loveless Motel, he hired noted architect Seab Tuck to work with him and investors Trisha and Chuck Elcan.

"The Loveless was a childhood memory for me, for all of us," says Morales, who also admits playing pool at Melrose Billiards as a teenager.

"We wanted to figure out how to add more seats and expand proportionately, so we built a 5/8 scale model and experimented," he adds, saying he feels pretty confident they got it right. "I even left that big mud hole in the parking lot that everyone remembered," has says chuckling, admitting that eventually they paved it over.

Acme Feed & Seed was another love affair for Morales. "My dad took us down there, seven boys and three German shepherds, and the dogs would get the flea dip and we would buy dog food and whatever and then walk across the street to the hardware store where the Hard Rock Cafe is now, while the dogs dried out with that chemical smell," he laughs.

"Your biggest competition is people's memories."

Looking ahead

And then there's Vandyland. More institution than icon, the soda shop served at least five malted generations from 1928 to 2006. And then summarily had its lease pulled out from underneath the well-worn floor when it was not renewed by local owner Treg Warner. Ten years later, nothing has been done to the West End property.

Nobody is naive to the nature of progress, the express elevator of property values during boom times and the relentless tide of change. It's just that we need, if not yearn for, local leaders whose civic pride can turn from the glare of the shiny and new and take some polish to the places that still make Nashville, well, Nashville.

Down the road from Vandyland and across the street from megalo-Maggiano's, we can salute the small corridor where Rick Bolsom still holes up at Tin Angel. We can laugh at the fantastic absurdity of the Station Inn surrounded by high-rises. And we can appreciate what folks like Austin Ray and Tom Morales have tried to do in a modern city that is very different from the one they grew up in and still love.

Now, if only there is someone brave enough to put a tiki bar back on White Bridge Road.

Reach Jim Myers at 615-259-8367 on Instagram@culinarityand on Twitter@ReadJimMyers.