Meeting Abe at the Crossroads

By Steve Beard and Troy Meier

Entry 12: Friday, October 22, 2004

Click on photos to enlarge

We are lazy bums. We lounged around on our front porch drinking coffee, eating peanuts, and waving to our neighbors like a couple of white-trash, trailer park bachelors. Ahh, let's see. What shall we do today? Eat BBQ? Okay, what a great idea, why didn't we think of that earlier? Oh, we did? No wonder we are so fat and happy. I love this trip.

Off we went to Abe's BBQ at the fabled crossroads of Highways 49 and 61. This is the place where legendary guitarist Robert Johnson is rumored to have sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the ability to play the blues. His influence upon rock luminaries such as The Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton (among so many others) is without dispute.

Everyone has a different take on the story, of course. But the long and short of it is that Robert Johnson was born as the result of an extramarital affair in 1911 -- never really having any kind of stable family roots. When he was 18, he got married. His wife and baby both died during childbirth. He lived a seriously tragic life. Bluesmen such as Willie Brown, Son House, and Charley Patton allowed him to accompany them while they jammed in local roadhouses.

There was a six month period where he was not seen. When he returned, he made the guitar howl and kick. Son House said that Johnson "sold his soul to play like that." Of course, Johnson did not help stifle the rumor with songs such as "Me and the Devil Blues" and "Hellhound on My Trail."

Was he off trying to find the whereabouts of his birth father during those six months? Was he being taught to play the guitar in a graveyard at night by Ike Zinnerman? Other bluesman said that Zinnerman was the devil. Whatever the truth may be, he was poisoned at the age of 27 by a jealous husband and the legend of his visit to the crossroads remains a time-honored rock and roll tale. Interestingly enough, one of the shirts at the Delta Blues Museum has an anonymous quote on the back: "Lord, forgive Robert Johnson."

Everyone in this neck of the woods has some take on the story. Take, for example, the menu at Abe’s. It states, "Abraham Davis founded his first business in 1924 in a restaurant called Bungalow Inn located at Fourth Street. Quickly, his excellent barbeque reputation spread across North Mississippi and the Mid-South. In 1937, the business was moved to the crossroads of U.S. Highways 49 & 61. This is where legend has it that Delta Blues King Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil, and Abraham Davis surrendered his soul to God, and his family business still prospers after 75 years. Clarksdale, Mississippi, is still known for the blues and the good news."

Once again, I think that it is a fine point that is elusive to my friends in the Belgium film crew -- the South takes its rock and its religion very seriously. (By the way, that is Abe's grandson pictured with us above.)

We were not prepared to find Abe's to be tied as our favorite BBQ joint on the trip. You have not seen Mathilda's Country Kitchen in Eunice, Louisiana, or Abe's BBQ in Clarksdale, Mississippi, on the Travel Channel or the Food Network, but they are more than able to stand with the big boys. This is serious BBQ. The rib plate was piping hot and the meat was falling off the bone. I had the Big Abe, which is a pulled pork sandwich made like a Big Mac -- except it tastes nothing like it.

One of the completely unexpected treats was the mouthwatering tamales that we had. Having both grown up in southern California, we have had our fair share of good tamales but we will testify that these were the best we have eaten. Abe's food is great, and the place is a serious joint, complete with plastic utensils and all the napkins you are going to need to clean your mouth and fingers after you taste this stuff.

We waddled out of Abe's and headed off to the Delta Blues Museum. They are showing a "Sweet Home Chicago: Big City Blues 1946-1966" display right now. We saw guitars from icons such as Tampa Red, Magic Sam, Eric Clapton, Howlin Wolf, and John Lee Hooker. One of the features was the log cabin of Muddy Waters (1915-1983, aka McKinley Morganfield).

Great quote from Muddy Waters: "You see, when you say the blues, you know what the average guy is looking for when he comes in -- half slouching, raggedy, bottle of wine in your pocket. I wasn't that kind of blues singer. I stayed sharp. If I had anything, it was some of the best. That's the kind of blues singer I am...I am an intelligent blues singer. I sing deep, down South blues, straight out of the bottom. But I made myself classy with it. People have told me I should be preaching, looking as I do. They'd say, 'I looked to see a man with a pair of overalls on, cap pulled down over his ears, and just as drunk as he could be.' And I'd say, 'Not me baby. I've got my mohair. Not me. That's for the birds.' I am a gentleman with my blues singing...You don't have to have a white face to be a gentleman and up to date with what you're doing. You can be black, brown, or any color, but you've got to carry yourself in a way that people know that you're it. They might say I can't play, or can't sing, but damn it, they'll say I'm a gentleman."

You can't visit Clarksdale without stopping in at Delta Blues Museum. Nevertheless, it could not have been more disappointing to visit the Delta Blues Museum and see almost nothing about the history of the Delta blues.

Exploring downtown, we had to head into the Cat Head Delta Blues & Folk Art store. You will find an extraordinary collection of records, t-shirts, and folk art celebrating the area’s rich cultural contribution. Their website proved to be most helpful in the planning of our trip.

Afterwards, we tracked down the Riverside Hotel, the place where singer Bessie Smith died. We met the proprietor Frank "Rat" Ratliff, whose mother began running the hotel in 1957. This extraordinarily unique 23 room hotel has community restrooms, but visitors return over and over again (some even leave their belongings in the drawers for future visits). Ike Turner stayed there, so did John Lee Hooker and Sonny Boy Williamson II, Robert Nighthawk, as well as John F. Kennedy Jr. when he was in town for the Sunflower Blues Festival. We thumbed through the guest registry and were amazed to see Japan, England, Holland, Norway, Germany, and Sweden constantly represented (80 percent of the guest are foreigners).

The Riverside is historical because it used to be a hospital. The story goes that Bessie Smith had just played a gig in Clarksdale and was in a horrible automobile accident outside of town. She died at the G.T. Thomas Hospital on October 26, 1937. She was considered to be the Empress of the Blues, the greatest and most influential female singer of the 1920s. The hospital later became the Riverside Hotel and a historical landmark for music fans. Rat spoke with us for about two hours as he showed us around and made us feel like valued guests.

After returning to our shack to clean up, we headed off to the Ranchero, a favorite restaurant of the locals. We should have had the steak, but we wanted to try the tamales and BBQ. Unfortunately, we had been spoiled at Abe's. The staff was fun, but if you want BBQ stick with Abe's.

We headed off to the Ground Zero Blues Club, co-owned by actor Morgan Freeman who apparently hangs out there often when he is in town. We went, however, to catch a band called Deep Cuts featuring a thirteen year old guitarist named Jacqueline Nassar (that is her with Steve). Ground Zero is a cool club--very large, with graffiti all over the walls. It serves lunch and dinner and the food looked good. We probably should have eaten there.

We ran into a young couple from Memphis who were celebrating their one-year anniversary by staying in the shack next to ours. She is an accountant (pictured here) and he is a tax attorney (taking the picture). I didn't have the heart to ask them who balanced the check book. They were a lot of fun. Troy met up with a local celeb named Super Chiken (yep, that is the name and spelling), a well-known blues man from Clarksdale (pictured here).

When Deep Cuts came on it was hard to imagine that Jacqueline is thirteen years old. I moved up closer to watch the way in which she just shredded the guitar. Talk about a teenage prodigy. She was the first recipient of the Robert Johnson Youth Recognition Award, sponsored by Gibson Guitars. Apparently, she began playing at age eight and went to the Delta Blues Museum's school of music. She was just as amazing as we were told she would be -- and as humble as one would hope. Grown men have a hard time playing Stevie Ray Vaughn. She played him like she wrote it.

With the exception of the singer, Joshua "Razorblade" Stewart (pictured below with Troy), the entire band was made up of kids under 21. It was really quite amazing, and provided a vision of hope for the future of music. The delta that has given American music so much fertile talent is still producing the kind of music that will have us clapping our hands, shaking our hips, and tapping our feet into the next decade.

It was an appropriate way for us to end our trip of BBQ, boudin, and the blues--right down the street from the crossroads. We began our trip in Memphis, the epicenter of so much in modern music, and ended it in Clarksdale, the birthplace of the music that we love. All along the way, we celebrated the tunes, guitar riffs, bass lines, drum beats, and howling vocals that get our heart pumping, all the while trying to clog our arteries with the best food in the world.

Our families graciously let us have our fun by ourselves to celebrate this particular milestone in our lives. When we returned home, we were asked if we ever got on each other's nerves -- being together 24/7. We had never thought about it. We are friends, we are brothers, and we would go on this same wild adventure together again. Next time, however, we are not going to wait 40 years.

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