Monday, 26 Sept 2016

This week is the kids’ first fall break and we wanted to do something fairly close to home.  We had a really good time in Memphis a year ago with Rita and Randy, so we got together with them again and are doing a Blues Tour, Part 2.

Adam chose Clarksdale, Mississippi, as our starting point because it is “ground zero” for the birthplace of the blues.  It’s in the middle of the Mississippi Delta with cotton fields as far as the eye can see.

Our first lodgings of the trip are in a unique hotel called Shack Up Inn.  It’s on the old Hopson cotton plantation and the rooms are old sharecropper’s cabins that have been renovated just enough to meet modern needs (running water, electricity, wifi) but otherwise have been left largely as they were when sharecroppers lived in them.

Shack Up Inn has a bar and is also a music venue … they have a “no under 25” policy because they had trouble with kids in the past.  We talked to the owner and he made an exception for us:  he said they initially had to institute the policy because none of the shacks have TVs, so kids would wake up early in the morning and go outside to play in the cotton fields.  Their laughter and shrieks from having so much fun bothered the older folks who “may have stayed up a little later than normal and are laying in bed with a headache in the morning.” (Presumably the 21-24 age group annoyed people with a different type of antics.)  Adam was able to convince the owner that our kids would be quiet and not bother anyone, plus we were staying on Monday and Tuesday nights, which typically are quieter.  The real parties happen on the weekends.  I highly recommend staying here, but if you have children be aware that you must get permission first, before you make the reservation.

Hopson Plantation (from their website)  In 1935 the Hopson Plantation began a monumental changeover to become one of the first completely mechanized cotton operations in the world. In the fall of 1944, International Harvester introduced the first cotton picker on the Hopson farm making it the first in the world to grow and harvest a commercial acreage of cotton produced completely by mechanical methods.

Since we have such a large group (7, including Rita and Randy) we had to stay in two separate houses.  We Mayses stayed in the Rich House: “This spacious 3-bedroom, 2-bath (1 with a shower, 1 with a claw-foot tub) house was built in 1883 in Rich, Miss., for the attorney attending to the new railroad construction. The wraparound porch completes the shack-lurious experience. This shack is pet friendly.”  (Note: some of the units are pet friendly and others are not.  They specify for each unit on their website.)

The dining room

Rita and Randy are staying in the shorter grain bin (you can see Holden in the doorway)

More shots of the interior of Rich House:

Some shots around the compound:

Rita had a tractor exactly like this one when she was a girl.

One of the cabins.

Cotton fields all around us.

The stage area adjacent to the lobby at Shack Up Inn.

Josie eating yogurt on the front porch.

We spent almost the entire evening sitting on the front porch.  The interior of the house, although it does have electricity, is very dark and not well-lit.  (They have old timey light fixtures.)  We all suddenly understood why people used to hang out on the porches — inside is rather gloomy and, as Holden noted, without TV or good internet connections, there is absolutely nothing to do in there.  “It makes you want to go out and see the world and do stuff,” he said.

Before we lost the evening light, Adam, Rita, Randy and Isabella went on one last photography walk.  Isabella wanted to lay across the rail road tracks like in the old cartoons.

Tuesday, 27 Sept 2016

Clarksdale, Mississippi

Adam got up early to take some photos of the grounds in the morning light.

I love the Shack Up Inn’s posted rules, especially the last one:  Be nice or leave. 

This bird nest was built on the light fixture on the front porch of The Rich House.  It’s made out of cotton from the fields. 

Holden and I went cotton picking this morning.  I wanted to collect a little bit with the idea of carding it to get the seeds out, spinning some homemade yarn and crocheting a hot pad or some other small kitchen item, just to see what it’s like to make something totally from scratch.  Holden came out to help me.

I loved listening to him talk; he noted that some of the cotton bolls had four segments and others had five, which lead to a speculative conversation about plant genetics.  He figured since some plants had 5-segment bolls and other plants had 4-segment bolls, one must be a recessive gene.  Since the 4-segmenters seemed more common, he figured the 5ers must be recessive.  Then he became aware of how tedious it would be to pick the entire field and the conversation turned to how depressing it would be to live a sharecropper’s life of toil.

After breakfast, we headed to the B.B. King Museum in Indianola, about 45 miles from Clarksdale.

One of B.B. King’s first entertainment jobs was as a radio DJ.  One of his duties was performing advertising jingles on air.  He became the spokesperson (before that was really a “thing”) for Pep Ti Kon tonic.  It’s supposed to cure whatever ails you, with it’s main ingredient being 10% alcohol.  It was quite popular.

All of his guitars were named Lucille.

The Mississippi Delta has some swampy areas in between the cotton fields. 

Back in Clarksdale during the afternoon, we stopped by a local gallery called Cat Head Delta Blues & Folk Art.  The proprietor told us that just across the street was the Ground Zero Blues Club, jointly owned by Morgan Freeman and Bill Luckett, the Mayor of Clarksdale.  They are normally closed on Tuesday nights, but were going to be open for a special engagement and recommended we check it out this evening.

Rita (far left) waiting for the musicians to begin.  Mr. Luckett was talking to the group who rented out the venue for the evening, telling them that Ground Zero was rated the #1 Blues club in America.  #2 was a place across the street.  Blues musicians from all over come to play here.

Since it was a private event (and they were generous enough to let in party crashers like us), we were allowed to bring the kids.  Adam looked up the club online and discovered they don’t allow children, so we headed out without them thinking that we’d pick them up later to see another band playing in a different venue that did allow kids.  When we got to Ground Zero, on a whim I asked the guy working the door if we could bring our kids (expecting him to say no) but was delighted when he enthusiastically said, “Yeah!!  Bring ’em!!”  Adam and I left Rita and Randy to secure a table, and we raced back to the plantation to get the kids.  I am so glad we did, as this evening was so special it will probably be remembered as the highlight of the entire trip.

Below:  the kids filling up on coke and pecan pie; me with an iced tea (I was designated driver), Randy with his gin and tonic.  

The musical act this evening was Super Chikan and The Fighting Cocks.  

James “Super Chikan” Johnson’s uncle was Robert Johnson, he of the old fable of the blues man who sold his soul to the devil at the Crossroads.

Two of Super Chikan’s younger brothers were at the concert.  One of them spent almost the entire 30 minute break between sets talking with us.  He told us all about their childhoods.  Super Chikan was the first of 11 kids, and that his mom was 14 when he was born.  The brother (I never caught his name) was a born story teller and entertained us with tales from his childhood.  Some of the things he said didn’t exactly match up with details given by Super Chikan himself in online interviews [like this one] I read afterwards (for example, by Super Chiken’s accounts, his mom was 16 when he was born, not 14) and the stories about how the name Super Chikan came about varied, but everything he said was entertaining.

According to the brother, Super Chikan got his name from his mom sending him out at 9 years old to catch chickens in the yard for supper.  He had such lightning fast hands he could snatch chickens better than anyone else, so she started calling him Super Chicken and the name stuck.

“My mom was Native American,” he said.  “She had long, straight hair that hung down to here (pointing at his hips).  That’s where I got my pointy nose and wide cheekbones.”

I asked him if any of his other siblings went into music.  “Nah. Each of us has our own thing.  I love hunting and the outdoors, horseback riding and catching bullfrogs.  I got that love of nature and hunting from my Indian blood I suppose.  My brother over there [the other brother in attendance] dances.  He’s a much better dancer than I am.  It’s in his soul.”

They grew up in tiny cabin much like the ones at Shack Up Inn.  “All of us sleeping in one room, littlest kids on the floor.  Mama had a stick she put the end of in the fire to get it good and hot, then said “Everybody get in bed!”  If you didn’t get in bed fast enough, she poked you with the hot stick.  I tell you, we learned to go to bed!  And if you wiggled too much, you got kicked out to go sleep on the roof.  So we tried hard to lay real still.”

“When Chikan was a little boy, he made guitars and instruments out of anything he could find. I told him, “You crazy, making all those guitars out of garbage!” but he wouldn’t stop and it turned out good for him.”

“I love people, I just love people,” he said.  I believed him.  Over the course of the evening, he made his way through the room introducing himself and talking to each and every person in attendance, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it.

The black and white photos are all by Randy — he has a fantastic lens for taking photos in low light.

Wednesday, 28 Sept 2016

Memphis, Tennessee

Before heading out of Clarksdale, we visited the Delta Blues Museum.  That was really worth seeing but they have a strict no-photos policy so we don’t have any pictures of it.

Our next stop was Memphis.  We did this town almost exactly one year ago, so it was interesting to visit a couple new places and revisit a couple other places, like the B.B. King restaurant.

Our first stop was lunch, Huey’s.  It’s a fantastic burger joint with great food.  They have a tradition of people blowing their hamburger toothpicks through a straw into the ceiling.  A couple times a year, they take all the toothpicks down and hold a contest to see who comes the closest to the actual number.  The winner get a prize, and all other proceeds go to the Memphis Zoo … so far, over $80,000 has been donated.

Holden felt the need to contribute to the zoo.  It only took him 3 tries to lodge his toothpick in the ceiling.  His sisters mocked and trash-talked him through all three tries, so when he emerged victorious he felt as though he’d won a major battle.  Score one for manliness and perseverance!

We had some time to kill in the afternoon, so we walked down along the river to the pyramid – now a Bass Pro Shops. The place is enormous and worth visiting once.

Inside the pyramid – it’s a complete town. You could spend an entire day looking all over the sporting displays, eating in the restaurants and shopping for clothes. They even have a hotel and elevator that takes you to the top for aerial views.

The elevator that takes you to the top of the pyramid, for a mere $10 per person.  That was too rich for our blood considering there were 5 of us, but Rita and Randy decided it was worth the outlay.  Randy said the views of Memphis from the top were OK, but the real treat was the views of the interior of the pyramid from the elevator.  He’s never seen anything quite like it.

The Cotton Exchange building – where we’re staying on this visit.

Josie wanted this picture because of the artist painting pigs on the display window.

Beale Street – overrun with motorcycles tonight. They have bike gatherings on Beale once per month.

People try to out-weird each other so everyone will want to take photos.  This guy was one of the weirdest and got a lot of attention.  Bikini Skeleton was a pretty big hit …

… until everyone saw Chihuahua Daddy.  Then he was the biggest hit.  Nobody else stood a chance.

Randy walking down Beale for that next, perfect photo opportunity.

At the B.B. King Blues club – the opening act “Memphis Jones”.

We were seated in the upstairs section right next to the sound booth.

The main event, blues legend Preston Shannon.  (All b&w photos are Randy Kelley’s.)

Adam and me. 

Bella and Holden, having a marvelous time. 

Josie and Adam; Josie was a little bashful about having her picture taken.

The headlining act this evening is blues legend Preston Shannon.

Bella and Holden joining in.  They knew some of the songs and were able to sing along.

Preston Shannon …

and his bass player, who was also phenomenal.

The gang eating, drinking and enjoying Memphis blues at its best.

Thursday, 30 Sept 2016

Nashville, Tennessee

Adam:  This morning, we left Memphis and drove to Nashville – about 4 hours away.
After getting checked into our house and settling down to check emails and take some naps, we headed out in the evening for some fun.

We started by visiting a couple of vintage guitar and musical instrument stores. I’ve heard before that Nashville is great for used equipment – lots of broken dreams and abandoned careers keep the used market hopping.  Brenda found an antique store along the way that provided some entertainment for most of the others in the group.

We then headed down for dinner to Lower Broadway in Nashville – a renowned area of clubs and bars that all offer live country music acts.

After dinner, we walked over to the Ryman Auditorium – the “Mother Church” of country music and host to the original Grand Ole Opry House.

Tonights guests included Larry Gatlin & the Gatlin Brothers, Jimmy Fortune (Statler Brothers), and a couple of acts I didn’t know. They closed with Charlie Daniels and His Band. He’s 80 years old and he rocked the place – woke everyone up after an hour and a half of slower country tunes. Even Isabella is a convert after seeing him jam on guitar and wail away on his fiddle to fast beat swamp music.

People getting ready to have some fun tonight.

Holden checking his game stats after lunch.

Walking to the Ryman Auditorium.

Isabella and Brenda up top, walking along the row of stained glass windows at the Ryman – it was once the Union Gospel Tabernacle.

Larry Gatlin & his brothers.

Charlie Daniels playing his fiddle.

Packed streets after the show. Took us awhile to get back to the truck.

Friday, 31 Sept 2016

Our final day of travel play.  We visited Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage and the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum.

We started the day with breakfast at Sky Blue Cafe.  It was highly recommended by The Internet, and with good reason.  The food was the best we’ve had on the trip.  They offer some unique breakfast dishes — I had the Tuscan 2.0 (two eggs over easy on toasted French bread, topped with pesto, tomato, garlic, chiles, melted parmesan cheese & a drizzle of olive oil.)  It had a spicy kick to it and was fantastic.

All three kids ordered the Stuffed French Toast Pancakes with bananas and Nutella.

Stuffed to the gills and happy about it, we headed over to The Hermitage, Andrew Jackson’s plantation.

The kids waiting to get into the main Hermitage house for a guided tour.

Restored slave cabins.

The Hermitage is well worth seeing (we were here two years ago, as well) but you don’t come out of this museum with a very good feeling about Andrew Jackson.  He was a quite awful human being.  I assume at this particular museum they even had a vested interest in portraying him in the best possible light, and he still came across as a hot-headed, violent, stubborn man who pouted and sulked whenever he didn’t get his way.  His go-to solution to conflict, in way too many cases, was to “use force if necessary” (and he seemed to think it was necessary most of the time.)

There were many references to his chronic ill health throughout the museum, with much of his suffering stemming from a bullet lodged in his chest.  I assumed he was shot in a battle, but if you keep reading you finally find the reason, which is rather hidden away in a bunch of text in the middle of the museum:  he was shot in a duel over a horse race.  He killed the other guy. Even under the more violent standards of manliness back then, people in his own time considered him too hair-trigger and easily offended.  He was in a lot of bar fights.   They also indicate (very diplomatically and discretely) that he was abusive to his slaves and liked physical punishments when people didn’t please him.  He was also a champion holder of grudges.

On to the Country Music Hall of Fame & Museum.

Carl Perkin’s blue suede shoes.

In the Taylor Swift portion of the museum, they have a sound booth where people can try out singing and see what it’s like to record a song.  (You can hear yourself through the headphones, but as far as I could tell, there is no  actual recording going on.)

Thus ends our Blues Tour Part 2.  Early tomorrow morning we head back home.

Until next time!