It’s not every day you get to sip a Bloody Mary on the lush lawn of a small-town funeral home, drenched in perfect spring sunshine, watching the finest mules anywhere trot by.
But then it’s not every day you get to go to Columbia, Tennessee, the Mule Capital of the World. I was wary when my hosts announced over a hearty breakfast with biscuits and homemade jam that our next stop was the funeral home, sure that an untimely demise would interfere with our mule-themed merriment. But it turns out the funeral home is simply the best spot for watching the Mule Day Parade, the culmination of a nearly weeklong celebration of all things mule.
Since 1840, this quaint Middle Tennessee town has undergone exponential population growth once a year to transform itself into a giant livestock market. Mules were big business here before the advent of the tractor, and still fetch high prices as thousands of breeders and buyers gather to haggle. Starting with the gift of a Spanish donkey from the king of Spain to George Washington, America has bred mules with the strength and height of horses, the dependability of donkeys, and more intelligence than either. The best of those are said to have been bred in Tennessee and shipped down the Natchez Trace to New Orleans and beyond.
The mule festival was once named on a Department of Homeland Security list of possible terrorist targets, but there is some dispute as to whether that speaks to the festival’s prestige or the list’s shortcomings. Most locals can recount the accomplishments of Columbia’s far-flung mules—from guiding tourists sure-footed through the Grand Canyon to hauling weaponry over Afghanistan’s mountains to beat back the USSR.
The mule festival features a mule pull to determine the strongest, a contest for which I was deemed too weak, the coronation of a Mule Day Queen, for which I was deemed too old, and a countywide pancake breakfast, for which I was deemed perfectly suited. A Liars’ Contest on Friday night rewards the biggest whopper in the storytelling tradition of the South. (Although, it occurred to me that event could easily be combined with the Saturday morning breakfast reception, which lured seemingly every politician in the state of Tennessee to glad-hand and eat country ham.)
I was not the only outsider. The day I arrived, the local newspaper featured a giant front-page picture of Larry the Cable Guy, in town to shoot a segment for his new series, Only in America, under the banner headline, “Git-R-Done.” Pushed below the fold was a famous mule named Amazing Grace who can dunk a basketball and paint.
The parade turns out to be an admirably egalitarian event. Anyone can join, whether in a fishing boat towed by a pickup truck or dressed like Jed Clampett on a jalopy. A grand marshal rides at the front—this year it was petite country star Naomi Judd high atop a mule-pulled wagon—and a cheery group of hundreds of mule riders brings up the rear, followed by a fleet of street sweepers to spirit away the mess the animals leave behind.
As I stepped off the curb, camera in hand, over rows of kids in cowboy hats and toy six-shooters, a friend remarked, “Better take pictures! People in D.C. don’t believe stuff like this really happens.” A young woman next to me laughed. I asked where she was from.
“Detroit.”
You see, mules are not the first industry to have been loved and lost in this little town. Long after mules had ceased to be a driving force behind the economy, in 1990, GM made this home to a huge plant, the brand-new Saturn car company, and a whole lot of Motor City transplants.
Since GM shut down production here as part of its restructuring, the county has faced more than 16 percent unemployment, with underemployment much higher.
So it would be easy to chuckle at the theme of this year’s Mule Day—“Mules building a strong America.” It’s a long time since George Washington began the American mule-breeding business, and decades since mules built much of anything outside of Amish country.
But on this weekend, mules were a reason to celebrate. They were a reason to have parties and crawfish boils, to go to the fair and sell homemade jewelry, pottery, and leather work. They were a reason for people to get together, bring their kids, be happy, and welcome visitors.
As I left town with a T-shirt, a mug, a necklace, and a smile, I couldn’t help thinking mules really were helping build a strong America.
Mary Katharine Ham
