Memphis landmarks, Bryant's and Sun Studio

Gravy, sop it up. 

That's what the sassy waitress on the sign says. She stands there in silhouette, one hand on a hip all thrusted out; the other hand holding up a serving tray. Sassy as hell. She's making a suggestion rather than a command; I think. What I do know is that Bryant's is "good eating." That's what people here say when the food is phenomenal but probably not recommended by your local doc. The sassy waitress would tell the doctor to go to hell and to go to Bryant's beforehand.

And that is what we are doing on this Friday morning. Going to Bryant's, not hell.

Phil is behind the counter. He greets us warmly, calling us by name the minute we walk through the door. It is a homecoming served with grits on the side.

Something to add to your to-do list? Go to Byrant's three times. Say hi. By the third visit, Phil or Diane (who is not in this morning) will know you by name. It is one of the things that makes Bryant's so special, and one of the many reasons people have been coming since 1968.

Bryant's is a Memphis landmark. Located on highly under-rated, Summer Avenue, Bryant's serves up some of the best breakfasts on the planet. Unpretentious and no-nonsense, Bryant's is down-home cooking as an art form. The Everything Omelet is a symphony of eggy goodness and delight. The biscuits are made by heavenly beings moonlighting as fry cooks. And the gravy bowl ... yes, I said GRAVY BOWL ... is a meaty miracle. Everything on the menu is good eating, but the gravy bowl is the titan standing on the shoulders of giants.

We order, we chat with Phil, and we eat. You know the eating is getting serious when the only sounds coming from the table are monosyllabic utterances of acclaim. Such is the case today. The first to finish wins the honor of breaking the silence, proclaiming the meal as being just about over. This is done by wadding up the napkin and then throwing it down on on the plate as if you have just scored a touchdown. Then you lean back in your chair, stifle a massive belch and say something to the effect of "done being about ready to bust." 

After we finish "throwing down" on breakfast, we are off to visit another Memphis landmark, Sun Studio. Located on Union Avenue, Sun Studio can rightly claim to be the actual birthplace of Rock N' Roll. In 1951 a saxophonist-singer named Jackie Brenston and his band, the Delta Cats (featuring Ike Turner on piano), recorded a song here called "Rocket 88." That song became a huge radio hit. And it is credited by most rock historians as the first Rock N' Roll song ever recorded. The song's popularity made a name for studio engineer, Sam Phillips, who set about on something of a mission to attract and record talented musicians. People like Howlin' Wolf, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, B.B. King, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison, and of course, Elvis Presley, were among the many would-be legends to answer Sam's call.

We arrive on a sunny afternoon. Despite being with a native Memphian and another 25-year Memphis resident, I am the only person in our company who has done the tour. I promise my troop that a visit to Sun is an unmissable Memphis experience. 

The studio building is a simple, two-story affair with a brick facade, a broad, green awning and a sign sporting the famous Sun Studio logo. With the exception of the sign, this frontage could be a part of Main Street anywhere in small-town America. We walk into a 1950s diner area doubling as cafe and gift shop. We purchase four tickets, waiting for the 1:30 pm tour to begin. We begin promptly at 1:45 pm.

We start the guided tour in an exhibit room packed with photos, framed rare 78 vinyls and washer-sized recording equipment from 60 years ago. Our guide tells us stories of Sun founder and Memphis legend, Sam Phillips. Back in the day, Sam was a sound recording engineer passionate about Memphis blues and local recording artists. He didn't seem to pay any attention to the color barrier, preferring talented blues musicians and people he thought could make money; forward-thinking to a point. Sam recorded "Rocket 88" and discovered artists like Ike Turner and Howlin' Wolf. He initially passed on Elvis, so the story goes; too "poppy." We listen to a few more stories peppered with snippets of original Sun Studio's early recording. The likes of Elvis, Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis roar through the tiny room's sound system. The music is simple and raw but packed with energy and drive.

We take the stairs down to the studio itself. There is only the one studio room plus the adjoining sound booth. Only one room; one. So much history, so many classic recordings all done here in this modest studio. The soundproofed tiles on the walls and ceiling are original, having been fitted into place by Sam himself working alongside his secretary / major-domo, Marion Keisker. Marion was the first person to record then unknown Elvis Presley. A couple of days later, when Sam first heard the recording, he wasn't impressed; so the story goes. He didn't sign Elvis until a year later.

Recording equipment, amps, microphones, and instruments are jammed into every corner of the room. This is still a working sound studio, and local musicians still rent time and instruments. Sun still maintains a hectic schedule. From time to time, musicians that have already made names for themselves come to make the pilgrimage and to record in this simple studio: Dylan, U2, Aretha, Springsteen, Bonnie Raitt, and Ringo Starr, just to name a few. When Dylan first came here to record, he knelt down to the ground, kissing the spot where Elvis stood when recording his first track. Bono wept during his first take, sobbing into the very same mic Carl Perkins used to record Blue Suede Shoes. A photo toward the back of the studio captures a stunned Bono staring at the famous microphone. The room has an inescapable power and magnetism. It feels like hallowed, sacred ground. All that music. All those legends. People like Elvis just hanging out here. It is impossible not to stand and think, taking all of this in.

Then comes the feeling and the power of the shared experience. I am glad we came, glad to share this experience with Dana, Jake and Tyler. The studio and the legends are important parts of Memphis heritage, and something every Memphian should see. When the tour comes to an end, I want to stay to hear more stories and to spend more time in the studio room. Leave 'em wanting more. That is the way Sam Phillips surely would have wanted it.