There are plenty of places nearby to eat and listen to music, so we opt for one of the most authentic. Robert's Western World is a place where rough-hewn locals yell out a challenging welcome to you as you walk in the door. They are setting up for a musical set. The walls are adorned with row upon row of used cowboy boots, which can be purchased if they appeal. At the plywood lunch counter a long row of big guys and a couple of deeply tanned, tennis-shoed tourists pack away burgers and beers.
Cigarette smoke wreaths the heads of the patrons.
I order the one chicken entree on the menu and a couple of deep-fried sides. Fueled with our hearty helpings of carbohydrates, Lawrence and I move on. The trolley ride across town to Music Row is short and pleasant. Now we are in the realm of commercial country music, crossroads of glitter and corn. We cruise past restaurants and recording studios, past United Artists Tower, past Curb Records and MCA, past RCA's Studio B where Elvis recorded more than 200 of his songs.