May 28, 2005
Value Bets
by G-RobG-Vegas is a crossroads. There are the tourist beaches 3 hours to the East, Atlanta 2 hours west, and 90 minutes north is pure heaven, it makes sense to look "up" at heaven.
Last night I spent a good 12 hours immeresed in the angels. They're the kind of people you'd picture if you closed your eyes and pictured the Appalachian Mountains.
Yes..that kind.
Exactly.
And, odd as it seems, they prepared me for Vegas.
Maggie Valley, North Carolina is a firecracker boomtown. Its an old dirtfamer community where the dirt is mostly rock. For more than a hundred years the town slept, insulated in its mountain cocoon, just a half hour from Asheville. I got a story tip from an unlikely source, just before a poker game, during a chat with BadBlood's wife's father, and the story took me here.
We met Popcorn Sutton, I kid you not, at the Misty Mountain Ranch. He's not an ounce over 80 pounds and not an inch over tiny. I saw him jam a smoke into his mouth and light it from the butt of the last. Noticing the label on his cigarette was on the wrong end i warned him it was backwards.
"Son, I don't use no damn muffler on a smoke," he said, "and I can last a lighter 100 years 'cuz I only flick it once a day."
Welcome to Maggie Valley.
Popcorn took us to his high mountain shack, made from lumber and juiced by a car battery, where he made moonshine for the last 4 decades. By all accounts, including his own, Popcorn Sutton is the best whiskey maker alive. His still was mounted on the back of a Model A Ford truck and he gave us the dry run. He's the last of a dying breed. His whiskey was 100 proof but he's everclear.
Now, its very important to note, his moonshine is quite illegal. But nobody here cares. The local sheriff, the local EMS, the LOCALS think he's great. People come from California to meet the man who makes the best "white likker" in the world. At least once a week, the best bluegrass muscians alive visit his 2 room cabin while cloggers pound the porch. Popcorn hasn't got much money, but he lives one hell of a life.
When we came back down the mountian
We left Popcorn and headed into town. Over the past 2 decades the "town" has really changed. There are waves of people, looking to tap into that old fashioned feeling who pulled up stakes in New York and Florida, and made their way into a cool country cabin. They opened souvenier shops along the main drag and new restuarants to serve the tourists, who sleep in well-appointed cabins with gorgeous mountain views. These newcomers are genuine in their love for the old mountain past and they love the legend of Popcorn, but it's fair to say, a lot of the locals, the old old locals, really hate these people.
We wanted to find some of the other "authentic" folks, who could tell us about the real Popcorn Sutton. We found them at the Opry House. Actually, I saw almost every law enforcement officer in the entire county eating at a single diner. That's usually a good sign for good eats. But when I walked around the diner, I saw the Opry House, and poked my head inside.
The music there wouldn't start until at least 8:00, but the musicians were on the front porch. All of them smoked and all of them, evidently, had known each other for years. Most of them had the long shaggy beards just like the one old Popcorn sported and when I aked about the moonshine each one of them had a story. All of them loved that guy, including the girl. The 16 year old girl just sitting in the corner. Her mother came up and whispered in my ear, "ask her about the Popcorn song."
Which I did.
We followed the girl backstage, with her mother and another beraded man in tow. The mother was obviously very proud and the other man sat down on a couch along the far wall. "Would you like a banjo accompany?" he asked.
Of course we did.
So they played a song about Popcorn, she played guitar and sang, he was incredible. The song was amazing, we had them play it 3 times. Turns out the banjo player was hardly 'some guy on the porch', he was 5 time winner of National Banjo Player of the Year. He'll get a lifetime award next week. And, here, he was just one of the guys.
So we walked back out to that smoke filled porch for another talk about moonshine and another lesson about Maggie Valley. All of these folks were native. They remember the town before the outsiders "discovered" it. You'd be amazed by the local bond. All of them knew the tase of moonshine and all of them loved the sound of mountain music. I felt more comfortable listening to these stories than I'd been in months. I felt like I belonged, although clearly I did not. I'm from Eastern Kentucky, but this was my first trip to this town.
The look of some of these folks reminded me of CADDYSHACK.
"I have a pool and a pond. The pond would be good for you."
The feel of these people, the talk at a random happenstance, made me feel as comfortable as I've been in some time. After just a few hours there, they can use the pool, hell, Popcorn has a place to stay at my house if he's ever down this way. I have lots of friends with similar interests, but this random group of seemingly unconnected strangers, quickly felt quite natural.
Wasn't this a poker blog?
It was. It still is.
But truth be told, there are few times in my life where I've felt this comfortable around such a wide variety of perfect strangers, and the last time I felt it was in Vegas last December. With the bloggers of the WPBT.
I came there as a friend of Otis and CJ. I barely knew BadBlood and the rest of you were total strangers. I found so many bloggers drunk and disheveled at the Sherwood Forest bar shrouded by smoke and slurring from commercial 'shine. I felt immediately at home. I now count many of you as true friends.
I met an alcohilic icon, and a few long haired men. I met a young man named "daddy" and a writer called "Doctor". I had so little in common but SO much to talk about.
AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GET BACK...
To friends old and new, and for the friendships I'll soon form..
See you in Vegas this THURSDAY. YeeeHAW.
And stop judging mountianfolk from the stories you've heard and the pictures you've seen. There's something special in Maggie Valley.