“There he is – the man who’s going to wreck your city!” laughs Jeff Greenspan, a former New Yorker who’s now living and working in Chattanooga, as he flips through smartphone photos of himself in the North Shore condo he recently purchased.
Greenspan, 50, is joking, of course. It’s what he does. He’s a comedian.
Instead of ruining the town he’s now calling home, Greenspan is using his talent for wit to give people an inexpensive way to enjoy themselves on a Friday night.
Called the Carpetbagger’s Comedy Night, Greenspan’s contribution to the Scenic City costs $8, includes a beer and is luring 50 stand-up comedy fans and West Village revelers to the lobby of the Bode Hotel every other weekend.
Within that pocket of time, Greenspan and a procession of local and visiting comics transform the hotel’s usually tranquil foyer into a bubbling cauldron of cocktails, adult humor and laughter that ranges from polite to raucous, depending on the crowd’s approval of the jokes.
“Maybe it’s just southern hospitality,” Greenspan winks. “Maybe no one thinks we’re funny but no one wants to tell us.”
Greenspan is not the only newcomer to Chattanooga, but rather is just one ripple among the waves of people who are moving to the Scenic City from across the U.S.
Evidence of the incoming tide is hard to miss. Social media groups devoted to Chattanooga are replete with posts announcing the author’s intent to move to the city, local employers are receiving a steady stream of applications from out of town, and Realtors are taking calls from people in New York, California, Chicago and elsewhere who have discovered the town to which travel website Thrillist says they should “totally move.”
Ask Chattanooga Realtor Susan Stout why people are moving to the city and she’ll likely offer this same short list of familiar reasons.
“We have a beautiful waterfront, an appealing urban lifestyle and housing that’s still affordable,” she says.
Leaning against the granite countertop in the kitchen of his still-empty space at Fairpoint Condos, Greenspan says the amount of square footage he was able to secure for the price he paid astonished him.
“This place cost half as much as my apartment in Brooklyn and is twice the size,” he enthuses. He then turns to look through his living room windows, which offer an impossible vista that extends from the tops of the neighboring buildings in North Shore, across the Tennessee River and into downtown Chattanooga. “I was quarantined alone in 640 square feet for months, and now this is my view.”
Stout says another popular draw to Chattanooga is its reputation for being one of the best cities in the U.S. for working at home, principally due to what might still be the fastest internet in the country.
Her clients don’t have to take her word for it, though, as national publications like Forbes and PC Magazine, and real estate websites like Zillow, have been lining up to offer Chattanooga accolades for its speedy fiber-to-the-home connections.
Like Greenspan, Scott Morris and Rachel Grundy, both 39, also recently relocated from the Northeastern U.S. to Chattanooga, but they actually work more than 1,000 miles from the city. Unlike Greenspan, who must descend his hill on the North Shore and walk about 2 miles to host Carpetbagger’s downtown, Morris and Grundy need to ascend only a single flight of stairs to arrive at their computers.
From there, the couple connects to Boston-based ButcherBox, a meat delivery company where Morris serves as lead cloud infrastructure engineer and Grundy works as a project manager.
They both secured jobs with the company, which recently shifted to a fully distributed labor force, in the wake of the pandemic.
“Rachel was looking for work while we were quarantined in a cabin in upstate New York,” Morris says. “While I was ordering meat from ButcherBox, I saw an opening for a project manager and suggested she apply.”
Stout also mentions Chattanooga’s status as a popular destination for outdoor enthusiasts, which is news to no one. From hiking, mountain biking and rock climbing to boating, fishing and paddle boarding, the Scenic City offers an abundance of activities for people who enjoy exchanging their walls for the open air.
This is one of the reasons Nikki Broussard, 30, and Matt Ortego, 33, have chosen to leave their home state of Louisiana and move to Chattanooga this summer.
“Now that we have our degrees, we’re eager to move out of state and do the things we love,” Broussard, a teacher, says. “Right now, we have to travel six hours to do anything we enjoy.”
Stout also cites Tennessee’s lack of a state income tax as a magnet for people who live in one of the 41 states have one. The state’s conservative political climate also is appealing to many people, she adds.
But people rarely relocate across the country for one reason, she adds. Certainly, the opportunity to play outside isn’t the only reason Broussard and her husband have set their sights on the Scenic City. Likewise, Greenspan didn’t move to Tennessee to buy more living space for less money, and Morris and Grundy could work for ButcherBox from anywhere.
Rather, their reasons for digging up their roots and transplanting themselves in Chattanooga soil are more varied than any bulleted list of the city’s amenities could pinpoint.
No laughing matter
Greenspan doles out jokes that provocatively touch on race, religion and sex from a stage fashioned from a Ping-Pong table.
But instead of fretting over the possibility of the table top collapsing, he was initially concerned his material might not land well in Chattanooga.
“Americans are worried Mexicans are going to steal their jobs,” he offered during his May 7 show at the Bode. “Mexicans are not going to steal your jobs; robots are going to steal your jobs. And then Mexican robots are going to steal their jobs.”
The bit earned a respectable chuckle from the audience, which Greenspan says he viewed as a win.
“Before I came down here, I perceived the south as right wing, conservative and provincial, whereas my comedy tends to trespass on subjects that cause friction,” he admits. “But audiences here are open-minded. They don’t always agree with something I say, but they still see the humor in it.”
A routine about being gay didn’t land as well, but Greenspan muscled through it.
“Part of my material is about how I’m not thrilled about being gay. There’s humor in it, but it’s the truth and it comes from a sad place,” he confesses. “I grew up when being gay was the worst thing you could possibly be, and I internalized that and formed my identity around it.”
Despite handling the peaks and valleys of the reception to his material like a pro, Greenspan is still a toddler in the world of stand-up, he says.
From most of his former life, Greenspan worked in advertising and built a resume that includes stints with Facebook, BuzzFeed and writing for filmmaker Michael Moore.
He began performing comedy five years ago as part of his effort to pull himself out of a suicidal tailspin.
“I was successful in the things I thought would make me happy; I loved my career, I was making a lot of money and I was pursuing art projects that were reaching people worldwide. But I was empty and despondent; I was disconnected from my life and nothing brought me joy.”
While seeking professional help, Greenspan also took three classes outside his comfort zone in an effort to rewire his brain: Spanish, jujitsu and stand-up comedy.
Only one of his ventures gained traction, he says.
“I don’t know how to say, ‘My pencil is yellow’ in Spanish, and you could probably kick my ass in jujitsu, but I found I had an aptitude for making people laugh, so I stuck with it.”
As Greenspan delved further into comedy, he says the people he encountered started to resuscitate him.
“I found a community of smart, caring, empathetic people who had struggled with their own demons and had knowledge to share. Plus, they were funny as hell.”
While searching for freelance work during the quarantine, Greenspan spotted an appeal for a senior copywriter at Chattanooga-based ad agency Humanaut. After connecting with co-founder and chief creative officer David Littlejohn, Greenspan and his writing partner spent a month working remotely for the company.
Greenspan says Littlejohn liked his material enough to bring them to Chattanooga to be “comedians in residence.”
“He put us in the Bode Hotel. We were supposed to be there for a month, but he extended that for a second month. During those two months, we started to familiarize ourselves with the city.”
Greenspan also become acquainted with the manager of the hotel. During one of their chats, he asked if its residents were looking for things to do. The man said yes, and Carpetbagger’s was born.
“We did two or three shows for the folks at the Bode. Hotel guests generally make a terrible audience because they didn’t make any sacrifice to be there, but we were thrilled.”
When Greenspan returned to New York, he says the condition of the comedy landscape horrified him.
“Comics were performing on the street, and while I applaud the effort to work during a difficult time, I didn’t believe competing with ambulance sirens and homeless people and barking dogs was going to make me a better comedian.”
So, Greenspan picked up the phone, called the Bode and reserved a room. He then convinced the manager of the hotel to let him turn Carpetbagger’s into a regular event.
“’Carpetbagger’ is a derogatory term for northerners who came to the south and took advantage of the people here during the Reconstruction,” Greenspan points out. “And that’s essentially what I’m doing. I’m fleeing the north and moving south to take advantage of what’s here.”
As Greenspan stands on the modified Ping-Pong table at the Bode and serves up socially fueled comedy, few of the people in the audience are aware they’re giving him the kiss of life.
“None of this is what I would have predicted, especially as an older guy. You think your life is just going to be what it was yesterday and the day before that, and you forget it can still have adventures and be surprised. I’m fully engaged in my life again and am thankful to comedy and to Chattanooga.
“Then again, who knows? Maybe I’ll become suicidal again and move to Montana.”
Destination unknown
As Morris and Grundy isolated themselves in an upstate New York cabin during the early days of the pandemic, they had only a loose plan for what they would do next.
They knew they weren’t going back to Jersey City. Grundy moved from London to the Big Apple in 2005 to pursue acting and singing, while Morris relocated from Florida to New York City several years later for work, so neither were natively tied to the region.
They had also answered a question that had pestered them each time they traveled more than an hour outside the city to hike, mountain bike and camp: “Why are we doing this?”
“We found ourselves wanting to be outdoors more than in the city, so we started to ask ourselves, ‘Why are we paying the high cost of living here when all we want to do is leave town?’” Morris recalls. “Our priorities were shifting as we grew older.”
At the end of 2019, the couple drew up an escape plan that included only a sketchy notion of where they would end up. First, they would sell the condo, then they would spend a few months in Asia and the United Kingdom, and then they would embark on a road trip through the eastern U.S. to find a new home.
“We were considering several cities when friends in Murfreesboro said, ‘If you want a cool town with great outdoors access, check out Chattanooga,’” Morris remembers.
The Scenic City was not on their list of places to explore – Morris has never even heard of the song “Chattanooga Choo Choo,” although Grundy had – but they added it and then set off for Asia.
Then COVID happened.
Morris says the buzz about the pandemic was barely registering a few decibels as they boarded a plane in the U.S, but by the time they were in Bali, the news was ringing with urgency.
Concerned about being locked in Indonesia, Morris and Grundy boarded one of the last flights to leave the country before the U.S. closed its borders.
The cabin, which belonged to friends, provided shelter from the pandemic but was not their home, so as June approached, Morris and Grundy launched into their road trip.
As Morris tell the story from the deck of his and Grundy’s home, he skips ahead to the part where they spent a month living in an Airbnb in Chattanooga’s St. Elmo district.
“Every day, we would drive through the neighborhoods to get a feel for the city, and every day, we liked it more and more,” he says. “Chattanooga has a walkable downtown but is also embedded in nature. It offers everything we want.”
After tossing their list of cities to visit, Morris and Grundy started to look for a house. Their search initially took them down several dead ends.
“Our dream was to live on a mountain but be a short drive from a downtown, so we kept looking,” Morris says. “When we saw this place during an open house, our jaws dropped. We knew there was no way we’d be able to buy it.”
Designed and built by Realtor Lisa Taylor, the dwelling consists of three levels and is nearly surrounded by Signal Mountain trees. The lone gap in the woods provides an unencumbered view Morris believes reaches the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina.
There was just one catch: Taylor’s asking price was $100,000 more than their budget.
This price was not, however, more than the amount for which they qualified. When Morris and Grundy coupled this with their interest rate (2.6%), they decided to make an offer.
“This was our dream home, so we figured it was OK if it was more than we were initially willing to pay,” Morris notes.
Their Realtor, Michael Jackson of Nu Vision Realty, delivered their bid along with a condition: Taylor had to accept by noon the next day.
Long story short, Morris says, Taylor accepted their offer just minutes before she hosted a second open house.
Months later, Grundy says her morning routine consists of a cup of coffee on their deck, where she listens to birds chirping and gazes at what she also believes is the Blue Ridge Mountains, and then her commute to her office upstairs.
Despite seeing so many pieces fall improbably into place during their journey, Grundy says one thing still mystifies her: “How did a Brit end up having to telling an American about ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo?’”
Destination: Chattanooga
A Louisiana native, Broussard doesn’t mind traveling great distances to enjoy the outdoors and experience places she’s never seen.
She and Ortega often travel several hours to Texas or Arkansas, and she’s made longer excursions with her two dogs to Colorado and Washington State, camping along the way.
Still, the idea of living a short drive from the nearest trailhead appeals to her, she says. So when her husband and his friends returned from a climbing trip to Chattanooga and told her she’d love the city, the wheels in her head started turning.
A visit to the Scenic City last Thanksgiving shifted her thinking into high gear.
“We were able to go on a hike that was a ten-minute drive from our Airbnb,” she says by phone from Louisiana. “And we loved the idea of getting off work and going on a quick hike or visiting a dog-friendly park or taking our canoe out. It would be wonderful to live near so many options.”
While Broussard and Ortego were excited about Chattanooga’s outdoor amenities, she says the welcoming nature of the people they met sealed the deal.
“When we stayed at an Airbnb for Thanksgiving, our host was incredibly nice. He actually invited us to Thanksgiving dinner,” Broussard laughs. “The friendliness and charm of the South are not myths.”
Just as real are the economic challenges of moving to another state on a teacher’s salary. Knowing this, Broussard and her husband waited until they had earned their college degrees before solidifying plans to move.
Even with their diplomas in hand, the couple must surmount several obstacles ahead of moving to Chattanooga on the Fourth of July weekend, not the least of which is finding work.
Broussard has applied for positions at several public schools, but like a fisherman who’s cast his line into Chickamauga Lake, she’s still waiting for a bite.
Beyond that hurdle looms a question market the size of a house.
Broussard says she’s spoken with a lender and a Realtor, but knows their ability to buy a home hinges on her securing a job.
If she can land an offer, she says she believes they’ll be able to afford to buy a place to live.
“Houses cost the same there as they do here, which is one of the reasons we’re feeling optimistic,” Broussard says. “We researched moving to the West Coast and Colorado, but that’s not feasible on a teacher’s salary. However, it feels like the American dream still exists in Chattanooga.”
Broussard and Ortega’s Realtor in Chattanooga, Micah Hall of J Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices J Douglas Properties, is also feeling optimistic, despite their lack of work in Chattanooga and the competitive nature of the local housing market.
“I believe they’ll qualify once they find employment,” Hall submits. “I also believe I’ll be able to find a home for them. Even though there’s a limited supply of houses on the market, I’ve been successful at putting my buyers under contract. The key is to make the best offer first.”
Broussard says if she and her husband have not made any headway before mid-June, they’ll look for a rental. Either way, they’re coming to Chattanooga.
“We’ve booked the U-Haul,” she says, laughing again. “We’re coming”
In the meantime, Broussard is laying the groundwork for becoming a part of the community. From posting on the Chattanooga Reddit to becoming active in several Scenic City Facebook groups, she’s feeling the welcoming embrace she and Ortega experienced last Thanksgiving all over again.
“Teachers have told me about jobs and other people have helped me to make connections,” she gushes. “It’s nice to already feel like we’re not outsiders.”
Don’t wreck our city
Greenspan knows it’s natural for the people who call a city home to be wary of newcomers. To ease the concerns of Chattanoogans about the influx of people from the Big Apple, he hosted a social event at Proof Bar & Incubator that invited former New Yorkers and established residents to meet and get to know each other.
“Chattanooga is a beautiful place with great outdoor activities and fantastic food. It’s also a little progressive,” he says. “The people here worked hard to make it that way, and they don’t want outsiders coming in and spoiling it. I created the meet up so we could say, ‘Don’t worry; we don’t all suck.’”
Greenspan says it will take time for him to truly feel like Chattanooga is his home, as dropping his New York identity has not been easy. But he says the day will come when a guest host at Carpetbagger’s introduces him as “Jeff from Chattanooga,” and it feels right.
“This is my life now. I came to this city by accident, was supposed to be here for only a short amount of time and fell in love. It’s a great place to be.”