Clarkesdale is only an hour and a half from Memphis, as soon as you leave the city the cotton fields are becoming more prevalent and expansive.
The Operators sinuses are suffering, he has a runny nose and keeps sneezing, seems like he is getting a dose of hay, or in this case, ‘cotton’ fever. The seed heads are all fully burst open and the harvest is under way. Big round bales of wrapped cotton line the edges of the fields ready to be taken away.
Just before Clarkesdale is the legendary Crossroads, blues man Robert Johnston sold his soul to the Devil so he could play a mean blues guitar here at this famed junction. Three guitars mark this spot on the crossroads which has now been made into a roundabout…blink, and you will miss it.
Clarksdale is renowned for the Delta Blues a soulful sound originated from the slave populations expressing themselves and their plight, the town has a population of 17,500, 68% of the population are African American and the median wage is $27,500pa.
This town has seen better days, there is plenty of big grand buildings in the CBD but they all appear to be empty, abandoned and boarded up.
The streets are wide and quiet, no traffic lights, just four way stop signs that everyone takes at a slow roll. Nose in parking leading to steep gutters alluding they need the drainage in this dry hot town line the storefronts.
Its not all doom and gloom in this town, there seems to be abit of a rennaisance happening…alot of cute shops and buildings are in the throws of renovations, something is in the warm wind, Rosie can feel it, this place is waking up, so it should be,
At least 4 times a year the premiere blues festivals for the State are held here and heaps of people come flooding into town, the place is also renowned for its Blues Bars and Museums, of which Rosie thinks there are at least 4…so, build on Clarksdale, build on.
The trend in town at the moment does seem to be this Pimp my Ride style of big boy wheels and low profiles…teehee, think it will catch on at home.
Its Tuesday and the places we want to visit don’t seem to be open…we wanted to have lunch at the Ground Zero Blues Club, it is owned by Morgan Freeman who is a Mississippi boy born and bred,
The door is open but there is a big CLOSED sign in the doorway…Rosie nips in for a few pics, what a shame….we later find out that the place is closed because they are setting up to film a few scenes for a movie later today….sounds like Rosie and The Operators holiday de ja vu coming back….will fill you in on that later.
We wander around the streets for awhile and take in the sights…then decide we will head out to our accommodation to check in. On the edge of town is a complex called The Shack Up Inn.
Rosie has booked a shack for the night on an old cotton plantation.
Each shack used to house a family…not of slaves, the owners are very quick to tell you, but tenant farmers. The names given to ex slaves after the Civil War made them free and they then worked the same cotton fields for pittance wages. Our Shack is called the Tinth and it is rustic and totally cool. Each has an air con unit shoved in the window and the room is icy bliss.
Rosie and The Operator sit on the shaded front porch, in rocking chairs, sipping a beer and take stock of the relics grouped around us in a crazy collection that add to the charm of this place.
Old Shacks are dotted everywhere and the old Cotton Gin barn where the machines used to be housed that mechanically separate the cotton from the plant are now converted also into rooms. Even round silos are futuristic type places to stay. The Inn has many festivals too that happen on the grounds, from Blues Fests to photography and harmonica workshops that pack the place out.
The old Hopson Plantation is across the road and their bar is open whereas ours is not today, we go over there and meet Robert the Bartender, he is a crazy collector as well, as the pics of his place will testify.
He is a friendly chatterbox too and was eager to tell us the history of the place, with us being his only customers like. This building (photographed above) stands exactly as it did in the 1930s, its heyday. This plantation was the first in the State to become totally mechanised in 1935, making it the show piece of the delta.
A lady comes in the door and introduces herself to Robert, she said she was talking to a guy in town and she was to come here and pay $10 for a bed stand that he knew was leaning up against the back door of the bar. Robert didn’t seem fazed, she paid, he wrote out a receipt and we said Howdy. Well, The Lady was the set designer for the film being shot in town, she was sourcing props for the movie and said this town and in particular this place were a god send for finding authentic 1950s props.
We asked about the movie and it is a real life story about a black college football player called Chucky Mullins who broke his neck in a soft tackle playing football and became a quadriplegic. Its a heartwarming story about the State raising money for this poor kids medical and rehab treatment, also the story of the friendship that evolved between Chucky and the white boy, Brad who tackled him. Chucky went back to Uni after his accident but died of a embolism three years after the accident.
Brad is a local guy and set up a scholarship fund in Chuckys name and visits his grave three times a year, every year since Chuckys death. On the anniversary of the accident, on the anniversary of Chuckys death and at Christmas time. The Lady said it was the first big budget film she has worked on in awhile, normally she designs the sets for low budget horror movies, that normally go straight to DVD…apparently, according to The Lady, Mississippi is famous for its horror settings. She was a really interesting lady and Rosie and The Operator will have to watch out for that movie
Back to the Shack we went, the sun was setting and the light was lovely for photos, see the bottle tree out front. They come from a slave superstition that the bottles attract roving malevolent spirits at night, the spirit enters the bottle and is trapped, the sunlight then kills the spirit the next day. It is said when the wind blows and you here the noise made by the bottle and the wind…it is actually the moaning trapped spirit inside trying to get out.
Rosie and The Operator had a lovely night shacked up in the shack…tomorrow we are driving 2 hours down the River to Vicksburg, a beautiful Southern City that sits high on the bluffs overlooking the river. We will be following the railway tracks all the way there…..
