A Brief but Ridiculous History…

If you’ve spent any time in Pleasant View, you’ve probably heard the whispers. The ones that surface over late-night drinks or at the corner of a bonfire conversation—about a stretch of land where planes used to drop low over the trees, and things came and went that weren’t exactly welcome on Main Street.

In the early ’80s, this cabin and the land surrounding it weren’t just off the beaten path—they were off the radar. An old airstrip once cut through these fields, and stories still circulate about a plane that made regular trips from who-knows-where into the outskirts of Nashville. The cargo? No one asks too many questions. But it’s said it didn’t stay above ground for long. A tunnel—hidden, hand-dug, and hush-hush—ran straight into the hill and swallowed it whole.

That tunnel still exists. These days, it’s been reborn as a speakeasy. You can grab a drink there. Play a song. Tell a secret. But if you listen closely, you might hear stories of a second tunnel—wider, deeper, and sealed off long ago after the law caught on.

Today, Sugar Hill plays a different tune. It’s a refuge for the restless—a place for musicians, dreamers, rebels, and families alike. We don’t traffic in anything illicit anymore. But we kept the spirit. The grit. The sense that you don’t have to play by anyone’s rules but your own.