The Germantown Boom

Whenever my husband and I go for drinks and dinner at Germantown Café, we bemoan the fact that we ever left this close-knit urban neighborhood bordered by Jefferson Street and Eighth Avenue. Invariably, our cozy time at the bar of this contemporary American eatery turns into old home week, where we run into our former neighbors, our friends and some of the most amiable folks in Nashville. It feels like an enlightened small town.

Really enlightened. One of the draws of Germantown is the evolving development of the old Neuhoff meatpacking plant. This place where animals once were slaughtered, sometimes with sledgehammers to their heads, has become a village of forward-thinking entrepreneurs, a poster child for new urbanism. The assortment of old pink buildings in East Germantown, totaling an astonishing 700,000 square feet, includes a jazz workshop, John Prine's studio space, a living rooftop and condos in the works.

For a time—and perhaps still—even the homeless were welcome. In fact, when the current group of owners were deeded the property at the end of 1998, they found a few residents on the rambling 14-acre campus along the Cumberland River. There was a nude bather and an acupuncturist. And—judging by the withered five-leafed remnants that were discovered—an agriculturist of sorts had made good use of the favorable lighting on the buildings' rooftops.

The idea now is to discriminately develop the property like a kind of village—with mixed-income housing, retail, perhaps a restaurant and brewery, a healthy dose of artistic influence and, not least of all, an aim toward social good. In addition to the Nashville Jazz Workshop, Neuhoff is home to the Nashville Cultural Arts Project (NCAP), an in-house organization devoted to developing the kinds of programs and events that will help make the campus an integral part of the city's cultural life.

"They have a long range 'slow food' kind of plan," says Berdelle Campbell, a 25-year Germantown resident and enthusiastic Neuhoff booster. "There's nothing speedy about the plan. They're looking out even 25 years. They're taking it as it comes and as it can be done. They're beginning to work on residential."

Back when we lived in Germantown, Neuhoff was nothing more than a shell of buildings, an abandoned site loaded with trash. And there was no Germantown Café, no new row of town houses along Fifth Avenue, no loft apartments at the old Werthan bag plant, no plan for a refurbished Morgan Park.

But there was Monell's, which made us ecstatic back when it opened. It meant we could roll out of bed late on Sunday and treat ourselves to a family-style brunch. And there was also the old faithful Mad Platter restaurant, where we had our rehearsal dinner. Both remain, keeping Germantown residents and neighborhood visitors alike well fed.

Property values have risen right along with the demand to live in this growing neighborhood. Those who left before the renaissance of the past few years beat themselves up (as do my husband and I) for not staying.

But the urban pioneers who have been patient all these years, sticking around even in the face of roaming packs of stray dogs, homeless people camping out in the alleys and frequent car break-ins (all of which led us to flee), are getting their reward now. The only downside is that, for the first time, Germantown residents don't know all their neighbors.

"The number one thing is that there are more people," says Campbell. (She and her husband Ernest were once our wonderful landlords.) "When you get more people, you get a different mix. For the first time since we first came over here, I cannot honestly say we know every neighbor. You'd have to be a real street walker."