November 1st, 1962. Nashville, Tennessee.
I had been sleeping on friends couches for my first two weeks in the city of Music, and now, as I pulled up in front of the little two story cottage on Boscobel Street, in East Nashville, I was ready for my own bed. I had been told of the Widow Lady who rented beds only to country musicians and singers, people with regular lives need not apply. Her name was Mom Upchurch, and every picker and singer you can imagine had, at one time or another, rented a bed from her.
Her little cottage would only accomodate about six pickers at a time, and I heard she had one bed open, so here I was at her front door.
Mom Upchurch was the picture of older widowhood, looking a lot like Aunt Bea on Andy Griffith's show. White haired, plump, buttoned up prim and proper, a lady from the old school, no nonsense, but with a heart as big as you'd ever find. I don't know why, but, she just loved country music pickers, and she had been renting to them since the 1940's.
She came to the door, I introduced myself, and she let me inside. The house was dimly lit, the living room looked like a museum of turn of the century furniture, every couch and chair arm covered in doilies that she had crocheted herself. We sat down and I told her I was interested in renting a bed, she acknowledged that she had just one open, and asked what my music deal was. I told her I had just been recording for a year, had a record out, had guested on the Opry twice already, and was in town to stay, hopefully (if I did not starve to death first). Those credentials seemed to satisfy her requirements, and she took me upstairs to see the bed. She explained that for 7 dollars a week, you got a single size bed, two drawers in a four drawer chest, half of the closet space in a closet about three foot wide and three foot deep. Each room had two occupants, and if you were out of town on tour, she would rent out your bed while you were gone, having it ready for you again when you returned. There was a bathroom and shower upstairs, and another down stairs. You could use her kitchen, if you kept it clean, and only her bedroom was off limits but you were welcome to use the rest of the house as you liked. Except, she was quick to add, no girls were allowed to come in the house (a rule that had to be enforced when dealing with musicians). No loud music or talking after 9PM, to wake her up, come and go quietly. She had a phone, in the living room, that we could use to make local calls, and she would take calls for us when we were out, for bookings and whatever, and in fact, when someone needed a replacement band member real quick, they would call Mom Upchurch's boarding house and check who was available.
All of this was said in a matter of fact, I've seen it all kind of voice, and when you realize all the stars that stayed here in the early years, it's no wonder. Faron Young, Carl Smith, Pee Wee King's Golden West Cowboys band, Buddy Spicher, Lloyd Green...on and on and on the list would go. She was truly the Music Mother Of Nashville.
I told her, yes, I would take the bed, I would be quiet, I would respect her rules, and I appreciated the bed rental. We stood there, back down in her front room, and her solemn Grandma face, softened in a smile as she asked, "You like Apple Pie?". Well, that was like asking a man, lost in the desert in 120 degree heat, if he liked water! So, she took me back into the kitchen, sat me down, poured me a cold glass of milk, and a big slab of Apple Pie, and I felt the warmth of welcome to my new home. I lived at the Boarding House for almost a year, and Mom Upchurch became much more than just a landlady, she became my friend, my message taker, the one to slip me some home cooked food when she thought I needed nourishment (just before starvation), and helped me make it through that first shaky year in Nashville, til I actually started making a living out of this music. She did that to countless others, through the years, and we all loved her, Mom Upchurch, the Music Mother Of Nashville.
Mom died September 1, 1976, and the Funeral procession looked like a Who's Who Of Country Music.
Mom Upchurch's acts of kindness will never be forgotten.
stan
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