Love your neighbors and sing karaoke

There’s just something about a good little honky tonk that makes me a happy camper.

When my husband and I lived in Knoxville, Tennessee, we lived within walking distance of the city’s best little honky tonk, Toot’s, which could be either a good thing or a bad thing depending on your stance on dark, smoky bars and karaoke nights.

Our stance: Toot’s was amazing. This hole-in-the-wall kind of place had wood floors and pool tables. There was a giant poster of Dolly Parton on one wall, and Marilyn Monroe on the other. Even a car hood had “DOLLY” painted across it with her face just underneath her name (they really, really like Dolly Parton — she hails from Sevierville, Tennessee). The drink menu was constructed from colorful poster board pieces taped to the dark-paneled wall with beer names scribbled on each one in permanent marker. At one point, the karaoke station was right next to the front door, but in recent months they moved it to the back by the bathrooms … so everyone knew if you had business to take care of. It was dimly lit. The air was thick with smoke (sometimes tobacco, sometimes something else). Bar stools were rarely vacant.

It was cash only, beer only; if you asked for anything different or tried to pay with a card, they’d tell you to get lost. They knew nothing else but bottles, cigarettes and bathrooms you probably shouldn’t trust.

Every night I went, this amazing mix of people was always there. Cowboys, drag queens, hipsters, toothless old hillbillies, poor drunkards struggling to get home, frat boys — it was literally like stepping into a Kerouac novel or Fellini movie every single time. You never knew what you would find there.

Karaoke night was, by far, the most popular night at Toot’s. The right song could get the whole bar singing along with you, rednecks and gays alike.

That happened to me one night at Toot’s when I sang “The Weight” there for the first time. Levon Helm had recently passed away, and it just seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Not a single solitary man, woman or transvestite sat in silence. It was like we all joined together to wish Levon a peaceful rest in a not so peaceful way, of course. I think he would’ve wanted it that way.

I think what I liked the most about Toot’s, even more than its charming, scruffy appeal, was the fact that everyone could get along for the most part. No one ever approached a gay man to accost him for his life choices. We all understood that sometimes, it’s just best to let people be. Even Dolly Parton said in an interview with Hollywood Reporter, “If people want to pass judgment, they’re already sinning.”

Despite the crowd’s obvious differences, there was one thing we all had in common: to have a good time in this smoky little hole-in-the-wall that we called ours, and sing copious amounts of karaoke.

Brittney Cannon is deputy editor for Clovis Media Inc. Contact her at:

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