On the roadside in Leland	Church in Indianola

The symbolic ‘crossroads’ but not the real thing; notice Abe’s BBQ in lower left

I flew into Memphis and drove south on Highway 61, I was looking for juke joints and other old voices as the story I’m writing reaches back to that part of the past. The ‘old’ Highway 61 isn’t all there anymore and, like so many things, the new one lacks the romance of the original. There are garish casinos dotting the landscape which I drove past as fast as I could, looking for something local and authentic. I worked my way down through Tunica County (roughly the territory of Elmore Leonard’s fabulous "Tishomingo Blues") and made a side trip out to Friar’s Point which, before they built the bridge to Helena, Arkansas, was where you caught the ferry across the Mississippi River. From there I took Highway 1 down to the 322 which took me into Clarksdale.

I stopped at the Cat Head Delta Blues &

You too can be a folk artist

Folk Art store and over to the Blues Museum which I recommend to anyone who finds him or herself in the neighborhood. The museum is a stone’s throw from Morgan Freeman’s blues club, Ground Zero. First bit of bad news: they don’t do the blues on Mondays, which is when I was there. Mr. Freeman also has a fine dining establishment in Clarksdale, called Mididi. Second bit of bad news: they were hosting a private party that night so dinner was going to come from somewhere else. So, I decided to head out to where I was staying and make different plans.

Just outside Clarksdale, on Highway 49 is the old Hopson Plantation, which, by 1944 was one of the first completely mechanized cotton plantations in the world. On the grounds of the Hopson Plantation is a B&B called the Shack Up Inn. They say they don’t like to get up and make breakfast there, so they consider it a Beer and Bed. The story of how this place came about is longer than I intend to go into, but if you’re interested, go to "shackupinn.com" and read all about it. As you can see they got a mess of shacks you can stay in, each with a different name.

A view of shack row	Skyy vodka bottles add that extra touch

I reserved the Cadillac Shack. Comfy and authentic (except for the AC and the indoor plumbing), the Cadillac Shack has its own bottle tree and a nice settin’ chair on the porch. I can’t recommend this place highly enough. Tell ‘em I sent you.

After settling in, I drove back into town, grabbed a couple of BBQ sandwiches from Abe’s (since 1924 or thereabouts) then went back to my shack and sat on the porch, eating my BBQ, looking out on Highway 49 while listening to Howling Wolf (with Eric Clapton, et al.) from the London Sessions singing "Highway 49." My bad luck turned good as there was actually a cool breeze and it felt as nice as springtime in Paris or anywhere else. I took this as a good omen.


The interior design of the shacks is early Delta funeral fans, concert posters, and nic-nacs. There’s a small sign from the London Underground above the headboard of the bed that says, "No begging."



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