“Hold up C it’s what I write
And Miss Lady acting like we in jail
Says she ain’t got no extra hush puppis to sell
Bankhead seafood making me hit that door
With a mind full of attitude
It was a line at tha beautiful
JJ’S Ribshack was packed too
Looking to be one of dem days
When Momma ain’t cooking
Everybody’s out hunting with tha family
Looking for a little soul food”
-Big Gipp “Soul Food”
Somewhere in the winter of 1995, the author of this very article would find his adolescent self, standing on a shag rug in front of an even then well worn stereo component system. It was a regular occurrence where he would insert compact rap discs into the janky player and recite ghetto hymns that embodied the essence of east coast, west coast and worldwide. This winter was particularly special, because Goodie Mob’s “Soul Food” album (arguably the greatest hip hop album the city of Atlanta would ever produce) was on full rotation, and its infectious title track was rapped daily verbatim by him and countless other lovers of the sound. Little did we know that through such an infectious song and album, those of us outside of 285 were being crash-coursed into imperative details about what Old Atlanta was all about.
Fast forward a tad over 10 years later, the author of this very article would be nestled in the heart of Westside Atlanta. After a brief stretch of bouncing crib to crib, the first real taste of feeling at home in ATL would be off of Bankhead herself, at that time freshly renamed Donald Lee Hollowell avenue – clearly in noble attempts to erase the bitter taste of Confederate general names gracing one of the blackest places on Earth. Starting at Northside Drive and running well beyond the perimeter before dumping off onto Thornton Road, Bankhead is the cornerstone of Atlanta’s zone 1, and a staple of the city and all things Hip Hop since 1995. Before T.I. would don the crown and the Franchise Boyz would lean, rock or snap their fingers, the hood feels like it officially starts when you hit Bankhead Seafood. Once inside of it, it was clear that the space was humble folks making humble food (if you can name an item besides fish, fries, hushpuppies and cole slaw PLEASE update us!) for a humble community. Getting in there was a challenge in itself, between shaky hours and long lines, everyone knew where the spot was. Families from out of town that knew the deal shuffled in and loaded up on crispy whiting boxes before moving off to their much more rural destinations. Everyone was hip to one fact – that Bankhead Seafood was official tissue when it came to good food and embodying the soul of Atlanta.
Fast forward yet a bit over 10 more years later, the author of the same very article would suddenly come to find out, as most of us did, that Bankhead Seafood would be closing its doors permanently. A staggering jolt to anyone in relative earshot to hear the chants of “Old Atlanta” vs the new gentrified version being slipped under our noses, ATLiens of natural birth and forged expatriation alike felt a sting in hearing the news. Owner Helen Brown Harden would tell 11 Alive News that the decision was due to declining health and a lack of manpower, and that the lack of warning was because she was afraid she might change her mind. Anyone who’s been inside the red brick building on the corner would understand such a plight, yet the shadow of a young writer on an Ohio shag rug some 20 years ago still begs to ask a question on the minds of many:
What could hip-hop have done to save Bankhead Seafood?
It’s a tough question to face, because in some regards Goodie Mob and the boom of young black people migrating to the south can be equated to some of the restaurant’s success. That said, it’s heartening to imagine that they, or Outkast (or any of their Dungeon Family brethren), Jeezy, Tip, J.D, Gucci or any of the plethora of Atlanta hip hop artists would have swooped down, dropped a month’s worth of strip club fare and saved a Westside institution.
Maybe everyone’s hands are full? ATL Rap Royalty gets pretty busy diversifying their own ventures already. Ludacris’ Chicken and Beer restaurant is a highly sought for location in Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. 2 Chainz has his Escobar restaurant in Castleberry, The Pink Trap House attraction in West Midtown as well as various real estate properties through town. Killer Mike is contributing to the community with his SWAG Shop Barber Shops. Tales of grand openings and grand closings of clubs, restaurants and stores by T.I., Jeezy and Dupri are well recognized in the ebbing and flowing history of good ideas gone bad in the Black Mecca. One can dream that if Mr. Bankhead himself Shawty Lo (RIP) were still around he might have jumped in at first word, simply to preserve Bankhead Seafood in name alone. Minus hypothetical notions like the last one, it’s kinda accepted that if you’re a big enough deal in the A you might be too big to notice. Being a hot artist a decade ago guarantees no success or drive to take on a declining business, no matter how much it’s loved. The air around it reeks of the acceptance of change. Most of it gentrification, but much of it simply seeing elders and the respected businessmen and women of the last generation getting too old to keep going. Couple this with the youth under them having less interest in maintaining established business and more options to plow into a new start up, and the writing has been on the walls as bold as the original sign once shined.
Thank you, Bankhead Seafood, you gave us soul.
