American Festivals Project

On Sunday night we finished the conversion of the truck with literally minutes to spare before we had to hit the road in time to drive through the night to Tuscumia , Alabama and attend the Coon Dog Memorial Day festival.  Our friends Wheeler, Emily, and Tom worked into the night to see us off on the road!  What a way to start the trip that we’d been planning for over a year!

At 11:30pm we jumped in the truck and started our first leg of the American Festivals Project.  The odometer read 85,000 miles, and we intend to add many, many more.  Matt and I were joined by David Creech , a friend from Arizona who stayed with me once while couch surfing and came back to join us for the send-off party.  He volunteered to join us for the first festival in Arizona and help serve as a third driver.

We drove through the night on the two 40-gallon tanks of veggie oil.  We reached Nashville in the early morning and filled up again at a Red Lobster.  By the time we reached our campsite inTuscumbia, it was nearing twelve noon, so we quickly took some showers and headed straight to the festival.

“The Key Underwood Coon Dog Memorial Graveyard is a cemetery located in rural Colbert County, AlabamaSeptember 4, 1937 by burying his famous coon dog, Troop. Underwood chose the spot as it was previously a popular hunting camp. As of 2007 more than 185 dogs are buried at the cemetery. reserved specifically for the burial of coon dogs. Key Underwood established the cemetery on

A dog must meet three requirements to qualify for burial at the cemetery:

1. The owner must claim their pet is an authentic coon dog.
2. A witness must declare the deceased is a coon dog.
3. A member of the local coonhunters’ organization must be allowed to view the coonhound and declare it as such.

Headstones in the cemetery range from the homemade wooden and metal monuments to the more elaborate marble engraved stones found at many human cemeteries. The dead include many famous dogs such as Hunter’s Famous Amos, Ralston Purina’s 1984 Dog of the Year. ” (Wikipedia)

The graveyard was located at the end of a very long and windy road that meandered through scraggly forests and past decrepid barns.  One would probably drive right past the graveyard as it set well off the road.  However, because it was the festival day, the parking lot and road was filled with a few dozen cars.  Without the physical graveyard and signs noting the “one of a kind” attraction, one might think they were attending a church picnic.  Most people were sitting under a large tent that included some mics and speakers.  There were several bluegrass and gospel bands that performed throughout the day and a barbecue lunch was served for a hefty $9 a plate.  Each act was separated with some lengthy jokes usually related to church denominations or how ugly someone else’s wife was.  The whole event was very southern and small-town America.

The graveyard sat off to the left of the tent, and each grave was marked with artificial flowers.  As people arrived, they usually strolled through the rows of graves, noting some of the old coon dogs that they knew through friends or relatives.  Oddly enough, there were no coon dogs at the event, and there was no way of telling who might have been a coon hunter.  Eventually, I spoke to some of the local “old timers” who had dogs buried in the graveyard.  Interestingly, I learned that modern coon hunting does not involve killing the coon.  As on man put it, “It’s just about getting out in the woods with your dog.”  He had five dogs buried in the graveyard and currently owned another seven.  I asked if he would bury his next seven in the graveyard, and he looked at me with surprise.  With a very stern face, he explained that only a very special dog is worthy to buried in the Key Underwood coon dog graveyard.  Maybe one out of those seven dogs will be prove to be dear enough.

Another gentleman that I spoke to, who was not a coon hunter, had just retired from the military and was hoping to spend his free time to make the Coon Dog graveyard a historic landmark.  He had big plans to work with the local tourism bureau and build a visitor’s center at the site so when people came by to visit, there would be someone to explain some of the history.  The graveyard is big news down there, and the locals were very proud of their attraction.

Overall, I was glad we made the trip down to Tuscumbia.  It was certainly a speedy trek, but it set the pace for the beginning of the project and allowed me to finally think about how to photograph the festivals.  Admittedly, the festival was lacking the kind of characters I had expected, but I think it gave me a healthy realization that all of the festivals we will be attending are going to look more average than what I envision.  I think it’s my challenged to bring out the life and unique qualities of each event.

David, our friend and third driver who joined us for the trip, was worn out from the long drive.  As he sleeps, cheesy southern jokes from the MC permeate his subconscious.

On our way home, we hit a veggie-oil goldmine at a Waffle House.  While we were filling up, we met a truck driver named Joe who was pretty impressed with the WVO system.  He first took notice of us when we drove around the back of the Waffle House.  He thought we were going to steal gasoline from his truck.  From what he told us, that is a real threat that he has to be aware of, especially when parked at truck stops.  He showed me his little rig and the cool sleeping compartments in the back of his truck.

“I’m on the road more than I am at home,” he said.  When I asked him about his wife, he replied, “Separated.  Almost every truck driver is divorced.  There aren’t many women out there willing to put up with a man away from home so much.”  I asked him about the prevalence of prostitution at truck stops and he told me that if you want to find them, they’ll be at almost any truck stop.

From outside of Nashville, we drove through the day back to Charlottesville to spend the evening before heading north.  Festival #1 was complete.