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Nashville: The Mood (Part 3)
Nashville: The Mood (Part 3)
Nashville: The Mood (Part 3)
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Nashville: The Mood (Part 3)

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Is Nashville simply Music City? The capital of Tennessee? A state of mind? A dreamlike landscape? A world of happiness, ordinariness, hypocrisy, vicious gossip, and political skulduggery? Where politics, religion, sex, and crime cross paths in such a way as to be almost indistinguishable? Enter a world of uninspiring public officials, soulful prostitutes, and tormented preachers.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 10, 2015
ISBN9781310165238
Nashville: The Mood (Part 3)
Author

Donald H. Carpenter

Donald H. Carpenter is a former certified public accountant who is the author of six books: Dueling Voices, I Lost It At The Beginning, 101 Reasons NOT to Murder the Entire Saudi Royal Family, He Knew Where He Was Going (?), Man of a Million Fragments: The True Story of Clay Shaw, and LANNY. He is currently working on a fictional series about Nashville.

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    Nashville - Donald H. Carpenter

    NASHVILLE: THE MOOD

    PART 3

    by Donald H. Carpenter

    Copyright ©2015 by Donald H. Carpenter, LLC

    Smashwords Edition

    All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

    Cover design by Charles Hooper

    Printed in the United States of America

    NASHVILLE: THE MOOD

    PART 3

    Caldwell Nottingham IV wiped his mouth briefly with his napkin and set it back in his lap. Nashville is a state of mind. At least, it’s as much a state of mind as anything can be a state of mind. It is what you make of it, and we have made of it what we will. It’s a place of order, of regularity, of a certain structure. Some might say it’s almost regimented, dependent too much on the order and regularity of things. But it’s intended to be that way, and I doubt it will ever change.

    His dinner companion, Jarad Raetz, leaned back in his chair and looked at the old man. He must have been about seventy-five, maybe eighty, Raetz judged, but he still had a vigor about him that was undeniable, a quiet vigor. His hair was shocking white, a full head of it, but his posture was very erect, his skin color was good, neither too rosy nor too pale, and his mouth moved freely when he spoke and delivered his crisp words; it showed no signs of the lack of control that usually sets in with old age.

    Raetz was one of the mayor’s many informal aides. He was actually employed by the city, but his title showed that he was in the parks and recreational facilities department. He was a lawyer by training, originally from southern California. He had lived in Nashville about ten years, initially taking a job as a campaign aide in a U.S. Senate race; he had worked for the loser in that race, who had almost unseated the incumbent. After the race was over, Raetz had decided to stay in Tennessee, and had practiced law for several years before accepting an appointment from the mayor.

    The mayor often worked through such informal aides. He had his official aides, of course, but for outreach types of activity, staying in touch with important constituencies, he tended to rely on individuals without an official title that would have tipped off the media or political opponents. Raetz was, informally, the liaison to Nashville’s wealthier white communities, those located roughly in the southwestern portions of the city. There was a lot of old money there, many generations old now, and although they usually played no great outward role in political races, they were critical in helping to form a strong base of support for any successful candidate or political administration. The mayor had assigned Raetz to have dinner with Nottingham and sound him out about several issues of current importance in city affairs. One was a proposal the mayor was quietly making to amend the city charter such that he could run for an unlimited number of terms. Another dealt with an effort to raise property taxes in certain portions of the city, but not in others. A third dealt with the upcoming effort to sell wine in grocery stores in the city, which had recently passed in a referendum. Up to now, wine had only been available in special liquor and wine stores run mostly by small shop owners. Now it would be available in supermarkets, and perhaps even warehouse stores.

    Since taking on the assignment, Raetz had met quite a few very wealthy individuals, both male and female, who were part of the most influential set in the city. As he worked the assignment, he gradually began to de-emphasize, at least in his own mind, what the mayor had asked him to do, and increased his mental emphasis on getting to know the individuals more intimately, as part of the beginning of what he saw as a long-term effort on his part to increase his own standing in the city. The idea had grown very gradually in his mind, and even at this point, somewhere along in the process, he did not know with certainty what he was up to, or where he saw it all going. He had no specific plans to take employment with one of the wealthy acquaintances, and he had not asked for any favors of any sort. But what he saw of them, he had liked, and he liked socializing with them, especially on a one-on-one basis.

    Raetz had grown up in a middle-income family in southern California, but one that was perhaps below the middle of the range of middle-income families, and he had to work hard to get where he was, to gain the accomplishments he had gained. He had struggled along the way, whenever encountering someone who was to the manor born, and had been painfully aware in isolated moments of his own inferiority, at least in his own mind, in the area of manners and habits. While he had always generally been treated well by such very wealthy personalities as he had come in contact with, he lived in small fear of making some type of faux paus in their presence that would betray too obviously his own background, and the fact that he had never completely emerged from it. Even sitting here tonight with Nottingham, who had been nothing but kind to him throughout their meeting, he had that fear.

    Nashville moves at its own speed, Nottingham continued, seemingly unaware that Raetz had drifted away in his thoughts. Without the structure that we give it, it would move in a more haphazard pattern. It would lurch forward quickly at odd moments, then fall back further than it had started from. And that’s what we try to prevent. We want progress, but sometimes it doesn’t seem that way to the outsider. To the outsider, it seems like we’re trying to lock in an old-guard type of system. But nothing could be further from the truth. We just like to make sure, before we permanently change things…In a way, it’s one of the oldest debates in which civilized man has engaged.

    The mayor says that you have always opposed selling wine in other than the small liquor stores, Raetz said. To a Californian, if you don’t mind me saying so, that sounds insane.

    Nottingham chuckled, apparently taking no offense, and sipped on his cocktail. The laugh vanished and he looked serious, but then he had a serious look to his face at most moments, at least thus far. His lips often formed a tight crease before he began to make a point, and his eyes looked at Raetz in a hard manner, almost as if he was looking through him. Yes, that’s exactly my point. We have a good system. Why mess with it? I know the argument, that if wine is sold in grocery stores, it will be cheaper. There’s no doubt about that. But people will buy more, too. So in a sense, they’ll be spending more money, which will be good for the merchant and bad for the consumer. What’s wrong with a little discipline, even across the consumer spectrum—across the whole population?

    It does seem to be locking in a few privileged shopkeepers, Raetz persisted gently. It limits competition, and people do wind up spending more…I guess that’s the trade-off you’re talking about…I do see your point, even if it’s contrary to what I grew up with.

    Nottingham smiled at him, breaking his semi-fierce look again for a moment. He leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. You see? You’re an old conservative in your own right. You only want what you grew up with, and you want to hold on to that. That’s what we’re doing as well. These are simply two competing systems, but one is not more or less progressive than the other. I think that’s the false dichotomy that I get tired of hearing about.

    Yes, I see your point.

    They shifted onto other topics, covering rather quickly the gamut of things the mayor had suggested Raetz mention to Nottingham. Nottingham gave his view on each and every one, always seeming to understand that there were opposing viewpoints, and the reasons behind them. The longer the conversation progressed, the less Nottingham seemed to give forth his views. It wasn’t that he didn’t have them; it was instead that he seemed to have very little interest in pushing his particular viewpoint. It was as if, at a certain point, he lost interest in Raetz as a spokesperson, or representative, for the mayor, and became more interested in Raetz as a person. Subtly, very subtly, he began to ask Raetz his opinion of different topics of the day, including many that Raetz had not been assigned to ask about. Nottingham had a way of shifting the conversation very casually, almost ricocheting comfortably off an issue on the table and bringing up an entirely different issue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In this way, over a period of ten, twenty, thirty minutes, then an hour, he managed to, almost effortlessly, shift the entire focus of the conversation. Raetz noticed it somewhere into it, but it was such a pleasant shift, and in its own way so fascinating, that he had little or no interest in moving the conversation back to the previous direction.

    So tell me, young man, Nottingham said, leaning just slightly toward Raetz and putting his hand on the table between them. What are the things that interest you the most? What are your goals?

    Joe Edwards stepped outside of the building that housed his lawyer’s office on Second Avenue and edged slowly forward onto the sidewalk. The day was clear and bright, slightly breezy, a perfect fall day, but Edwards was not in an uplifted mood; his lawyer had just informed him of the prospects for his divorce case. His wife was going to

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