You’ve probably heard of "the working man’s lunch." It’s a bit of Southern folklore that isn't really folklore at all—it was a literal survival tactic for laborers in the early 20th century. For five cents, you got a 16-ounce RC Cola. For another nickel, you got a MoonPie the size of a dinner plate. Ten cents for a sugar rush that could power a coal miner through a double shift.
Bell Buckle, Tennessee, doesn't let you forget this.
Every third Saturday in June, this tiny railroad town—which usually has a population of maybe 500 people—balloons into a chaotic, sugar-fueled celebration of two brands that shouldn't, by all logic of modern health trends, still be this popular. But they are. The RC Cola and MoonPie Festival isn't just a food festival. It's a weird, endearing, and deeply authentic slice of Americana that manages to avoid the "corporate" feel of bigger state fairs. It’s gritty. It’s sweet. It’s very, very loud.
The Weird History of a Sugar-Soaked Tradition
Why Bell Buckle? Honestly, there isn't a massive corporate headquarters there. Royal Crown Cola (RC) started in Columbus, Georgia, thanks to a pharmacist named Claude Hatcher who got into a tiff with a local Coca-Cola representative. The MoonPie? That was born at the Chattanooga Bakery in 1917.
The festival itself started in 1994. It was basically a birthday party for the MoonPie’s 75th anniversary. The town expected maybe a couple thousand people to show up to the rural Bedford County spot. Instead, they got swamped. The organizers realized they had tapped into a vein of nostalgia that people were starving for.
It works because it feels honest. There is no irony here. When you see the "King and Queen" of the festival crowned, they aren't Hollywood stars. They’re usually local figures or people who have dedicated years to the community. They wear crowns made of soda cans and marshmallow boxes. It’s ridiculous. It’s also exactly what makes the RC Cola and MoonPie Festival feel more human than a Coachella or a South by Southwest.
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What Actually Happens in Bell Buckle?
If you arrive after 9:00 AM, you’re already late. The traffic snakes down Highway 82 and Highway 269 until cars are parked in cow pastures miles away.
The day kicks off with the 10-Mile Run. Most people aren't there to run. They're there for the breakfast. Usually, there's a heavy emphasis on biscuits, gravy, and—predictably—sugar. But the real meat of the event happens around mid-day when the parade starts. This isn't a Macy’s-style parade with giant balloons. It’s tractors. It’s local dance troupes. It’s vintage cars that smell like unburnt gasoline.
Then there are the games.
You’ll see the MoonPie Toss. You’ll see people trying to win trophies for the "farthest traveled" attendee. One of the weirdest highlights is the cutting of the World’s Largest MoonPie. We are talking about a marshmallow and graham cracker beast that weighs hundreds of pounds. They use a giant knife. Everyone gets a slice. It’s messy. It’s sticky. If it’s 95 degrees out—which it usually is in Tennessee in June—the chocolate starts to melt into a sludge that requires approximately forty wet wipes to clean off your hands.
Why RC Cola Still Has a Cult Following
In the "Cola Wars," RC is often forgotten. It’s the perennial third-place finisher behind Coke and Pepsi. But in the South, RC is a badge of honor. It was the first to give us ginger ale, the first to put soda in cans, and the first to release a diet cola (Diet Rite).
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People at the RC Cola and MoonPie Festival talk about the flavor profile like it’s a fine wine. It’s crispier. It’s less syrupy than Pepsi but has more "bite" than Coke. When you pair that acidity with the waxy, marshmallow-filled denseness of a MoonPie, something chemical happens. It’s a specific kind of satisfaction.
The Evolution of the MoonPie
The MoonPie itself hasn't changed much since 1917, though they’ve branched out into flavors like salted caramel and strawberry. At the festival, you can find the "Double Decker" versions which are essentially structural engineering marvels of the snack world.
The bakery in Chattanooga still produces about a million of these things a day. Think about that. A million. In an era of kale smoothies and keto diets, the MoonPie is an unkillable giant.
The Logistics: Surviving the Heat and the Crowds
If you’re planning to head down, you need to be realistic. Bell Buckle is charming, with its Victorian homes and antique shops, but it wasn't built for 25,000 people.
- Hydration is non-negotiable. Yes, drink the RC. But for every soda, drink two bottles of water. The Tennessee humidity in June is a physical weight.
- Bring cash. While more vendors are taking cards and Apple Pay, the signal in the valley can be spotty when thousands of people are trying to upload TikToks at the same time. Cash is king for the craft stalls.
- The "Main Stage" isn't a stadium. It’s basically a cleared-out area near the center of town. If you want to see the MoonPie cutting, get there 30 minutes early and stake out a spot.
- Parking is a feat of strength. Local landowners will charge you $5 or $10 to park in their grass. Pay it. Don't try to find a "secret" spot on the shoulder of the road; the Bedford County deputies are very efficient with tow trucks.
The shopping is actually decent, too. Bell Buckle is known for its antiques. During the festival, the streets are lined with makers selling everything from hand-turned wooden bowls to ironwork. It’s a good place to find stuff that wasn't mass-produced in a factory overseas.
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The "Working Man’s Lunch" Economics
There is a socio-economic history here that people often gloss over. During the Great Depression, the "RC and a MoonPie" combo was the biggest meal you could get for a dime. It was 1,000 calories of pure energy.
When you walk through the RC Cola and MoonPie Festival, you see older folks who remember when that was their actual lunch. There is a sense of pride in that. It’s not just about junk food; it’s about a time when these brands were a reliable constant in a very difficult economy. That's why the nostalgia hits so hard. It’s not manufactured by a marketing agency in New York. It grew out of the soil of the South.
Is it worth the trip?
Honestly? Yes. If you hate crowds and heat, stay home. But if you want to see a town that genuinely loves its identity, go. There is something deeply life-affirming about watching a 70-year-old man and a 5-year-old kid both covered in chocolate, laughing because they just watched a lady win a trophy for shouting "Whoop-ee!" the loudest.
It’s loud. It’s sugary. It’s quintessentially Tennessee.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
- Check the official Bell Buckle Chamber of Commerce site in early May. They release the specific band lineup and the 10-mile run registration links then.
- Book a hotel in Shelbyville or Murfreesboro. Bell Buckle has almost no lodging of its own. Murfreesboro is about 20 minutes north and has plenty of options.
- Arrive by 7:30 AM if you want to see the 10-Mile Run start or get a parking spot within a half-mile of the downtown area.
- Wear sunscreen. There is very little shade in the main festival area. You will get burned before the parade even starts.
- Look for the "Fried MoonPies." It sounds like an artery clogger—and it is—but a deep-fried MoonPie is a bucket-list food item that you can usually only find at this specific event.
- Bring a cooler. You’ll want to buy a case of the limited-edition festival glass-bottle RCs to take home. They won’t stay cold in your car.
The RC Cola and MoonPie Festival is a reminder that some traditions don't need to be fancy to be important. Sometimes, all you need is a cold soda, a snack, and a small town that knows how to throw a party.