Air Castle of the South: WSM and the Making of Music City

5 We Must Serve These People Tonight

88 five We Must Serve These People Tonight With two additions between 1929 and 1934, the National Life Home Office grew into a muscular, U-shaped edifice just off Nashville’s Capitol Hill. Out front, Union Street dropped down a block to the Hermitage and Andrew Jackson hotels and the grand quadrangle that was War Memorial Plaza. And from WSM’s fifth-floor studios,it was easy to see the cylindrical cupola of the capitol building just one block away.A visitor coming up Union Street would have seen National Life across a sunken garden, watched over by a bronze tribute to “Confederate Womanhood”—two women in Greek robes ministering to a Civil War soldier.Beyond the insurance headquarters,down the other side of the hill, lay “Hell’s Half Acre,” one of the city’s worst slums. National Life’s front steps were wide and formal. The doors, with their iron bars and shield logo, suggested the security and permanence of a bank. Inside, one was greeted by a modest man with sandy hair and a kindly disposition —Percy Craig, one of C. A. Craig’s many nephews. Though he was a Shield Man before World War I, he had, since 1925, been professionally cordial to dozens of people a day as the “Home Office host.” He directed visitors toward the executive suites,which were on the first floor,where walls of figured Tennessee walnut gave off a polished glow. Glass cases near the elevator held a display promoting the Tennessee Valley Authority, the new i-xx_1-286_Havi.indd 88 7/17/07 10:27:50 AM federal program of dams, power generation, and soil conservation. Past the gated elevator was a stone hall with big arched windows bathed in sunlight. Up marble steps, National Life’s working floors were open, divided only by supporting columns, rows of filing cabinets, and desks. Surfaces were of oak, steel, and brass. The walls were amply fenestrated, and in the summer the windows remained wide open, while wide slat Venetian blinds kept the blistering sunshine at bay,shrouding National Life’s floors in a dark,olive and brown gloom. When natural breezes failed, floor-standing fans kept the air moving. Waxed floors clicked beneath polished dress shoes. Big black telephones rang lustily. Royal and Underwood typewriters nattered along, their keys,bells,and whisking platens making the soundtrack of a 1930s corporate concern. Onthefifthfloor,WSMhaditsownelevatorlobbyandreceptionists.When the door opened, visitors faced the station’s credo, set in silver block letters: “To the service and interest of the American home are dedicated the ideals and facilities of this institution and its broadcasting service,WSM.”Three studios and six administrative offices took up the new wing’s entire floor,and the halls were lined with photomontages of the station’s many entertainers, announcers ,and speakers.Musicians and technical people bustled about.Harry Stone looked smart in a close-fitting,double-breasted suit with a pocket square.The orchestraleadersandsoundeffectsspecialistsworewhitesmockslikelabcoats over their shirts and ties. The studios were in nearly constant use, for shows, rehearsals, routine station identification, and news. Busy, vibrant, and professional , there was no finer place in the South to work in radio. One unfortunate feature of National Life’s location was that it faced the back entrance of one of the city’s most beautiful buildings. The War Memorial Auditorium had been finished the same year WSM went on the air, and by facing the same square as the state capitol, it described downtown’s most Athenian space, a mini-Acropolis where power and high culture sat comfortablysidebyside .WarMemorial’sgrandfrontstairsapproachedanopenCourt of Honor,home to a large bronze figure dressed as if to fight in a Roman legion or to be in one of Ed Kirby’s shield-themed dramas. Inside, the auditorium itself whispered refinement and fealty to the classics. It was, in short, the last place one would expect to find the Grand Ole Opry. But by 1939, WSM’s hillbilly phenomenon had worn out its welcome at even the Dixie Tabernacle on Fatherland Street.Cars and trucks parked on every patch of ground. Overflow crowds, wrote Harry Stone, would wander 89—We Must Serve These People Tonight i-xx_1-286_Havi.indd 89 7/17/07 10:27:50 AM 90—air castle of the south the streets of East Nashville “like gypsies.”Thus,he went on,“it was no great surprisewhenagroupofEastNashvillecitizenscalledonmeonedayandasked in a very nice way if we would...