The Blues in Arkansas

Drove down to Helena, Arkansas, yesterday, with m. and a new friend (another SF Bay Area transplant of a few years prior, and an amazing blogger), for the annual blues festival, about 70 miles south of Memphis, just west of the Mississippi river, and not far from the famous Clarksdale, MS (home of the mythical blues 'Crossroads'). 

This was our first trip out to the rural and small town Delta- the deep south. I was extremely curious, having heard about the poverty, the economic decline: mostly due to family cotton farms put out of business by large growers.... Sure, the town was in quite a state of decay, sweetly crumbling and sagging, with honest-to-god ruins. Yet preserved amid these melancholy dregs, life was continuing in a variety of forms and institutions, some apparently preserved in amber, like above: 'Fonzie's Blues and Jazz Club'; yet others that were brand new- signs of gentrification even out here, and I imagine in large part supported by tourist dollars, as there doesn't seem to be any viable industry in sight; other than the people-free, industrial scale cotton fields. Bottom line, this town isn't quite ready to give up, and life is strugglin' on.

So what could draw tourists to a place like this? Well, the Blues Fest for one.

And the people, 80,000 of them, (many of them apparently staying at the Tunica casinos, the new little Las Vegas on the Mississippi river, just a few miles away) were out having a good time, enjoying the perfectly hot October weather, eating greasy fried food from colorful street stands with quirky names, drinking cheap light beer, and listening to a variety of blues music coming from several stages and buskers on every corner:

'Turkey Legs To Go'

The one above is a sanctioned cart on the main drag. Meanwhile down side streets, locals were setting up their own BBQ smokers and food service spots, some pretty spare, bare bones. But this one below had an extensive and good looking selection of cakes and canned goods, and they looked like a serious operation. Unfortunately, I did not stop to try their food, which I honestly regret. (sometimes I feel like a fly on the wall taking all these pictures). Next time I will stop, chat with these people (and get their portraits!), find out what they're favorites are, and try as many items as I can....But I did try at least one new dish this day- deep fried alligator kabob- tasted like a swordfish and a chicken had a lovechild- anotherwords- Yum!

 Meanwhile, just for fun: ATV hauling miscellaneous cases of light beer following an ambulance.....

Walking around, I practiced my technique of taking snapshots from the hip...it's not too hard. Although I'm still not sure how useful a skill it is:

The ruins make for stunning photo opportunities.....melancholy, cool, ghostly... softened and stilled by the sands of time. Why are they strangely inspiring?

Eventually, we made it back toward the main concert stage where local business people and promoters were hucking their town. 'It's a great place to live; poised to make a comeback; find new life; reinvent itself!' One young guy spoke about how he had relocated here from Brooklyn after coming to the blues fest and becoming inspired. Him and his partner had started a non-profit design shop to help local business with branding, marketing, web-design, etc. Called Thrive, (I just emailed them today, curious about the situation, wanting to contribute...anyone up for green, alternative housing made from recycled and donated materials??) here's their storefront on Cherry St. (aka Main St) behind a couple of hard working buskers. (Who weren't bad, but need to change their name: 'Tyrannosaurus Chicken'??):

Speaking of Buskers, this guy was on the street all day playing his home made guitar/bass, and telling stories about the roots of music in the delta: crude instruments made from common hardware, but played with an abandon and depth of feeling that makes it hard to look away. His name is Richard Johnston and he seems like the real deal to me.

Finally, we made it back to the lawn at the main stage where the sun was setting, the air cooling, and music sounding good. Then, Taj Mahal came out to perform and blew my mind- the guy is so damn good. He is a complete master of the guitar, yet his singing is equally stirring and virtuosic...and he was doing both simultaneously! It was a trio: drummer, bassist, with Taj playing rhythm, lead, and vocals! Why bother with the backing band, Taj? YOU ROCK! Takes just one genius to turn ragged, kudzu infested countryside into world class music event. (Alas, we missed BB King, and Dr. John on the previous two nights of the fest.)

Bonus Track: Here's a nice video of Richard Johnston at the same Blues Festival, except about 10 years ago (ignore the dorky looking guy in the beginning, and the french sub-titles):

Color and Eclecticism

Just back, and feeling refreshed and more optimistic, after a weeklong trip to Connecticut to visit family and friends, preceded by a couple of days walking around NYC and marveling at the stark, unmitigated vertical density of Harlem:

The bucolic, sophisticated urbanity of Brooklyn Heights:

The eclectic grittiness of eastern Brooklyn:

Then driving around central Connecticut with my dad and being frustrated by often repetitive, stultifying blandness and lack of imagination of upper-middle class contemporary CT subdivisions [...and so close to the cultural capitals of NYC, Boston, and New Haven!]:

And the consistancy of the colonial and ranch styles in even the older, more interesting and charming CT suburbs:

So I was thinking again about one of the neighborhoods I jog through- Glenview, about a mile south of our apartment here in Memphis, which is clustered around South Parkway. The Memphis Parkway system was the original, ambitious outer beltway [basically a rectangle: 4 Parkways, 3 miles long on each side. The area inside the Parkways is now known as Midtown] of tree lined boulevards and parks developed around the city at the turn of the 20th century-part of the City Beautiful movement and a response to the devastating local yellow fever epidemics of the previous generation; they ended up being a model for similar development around the country. (Of course, the city has now extended far beyond this original boundary, with a freeway loop a few miles further out, and an outer-ring loop planned- this city, low in density from the beginning, has never lost it's penchant for large lots- and the attendant feeling of sprawl....)

But the original Parkways are still important arteries, and give the city a lot of it's character. Each parkway seems to have it's unique characteristics and ambience. What strikes me about S. Parkway is the eclecticism of the houses along it. The north side of the street is defined by enormous [for an 'urban' area] front yards, and gracious houses in a variety of styles. I guess the eclecticism is not surprising because my "Field Guide to American Houses" calls this era (1900s-1940) the 'eclectic period'. Here's a few examples:

Colonial Revival

Blob with Italian Rennaissance Portico

Craftsman with weirdo 'Memphis' roof? (Historic Neighborhood sign proudly displayed in front yard)

Crazy steep roof Tudor [In TN gigantic, steeply sloped roofs are still popular, and referred to as 

'ego pitch']

The older houses are punctuated by various midcentury-ish houses like this genteel ranch. (Were the original houses torn down? Probably- houses don't last long here if they're not properly built: moisture and bugs get 'em right quick, or perhaps it was just due to changing tastes....)

And... on the south side of the street, the lots and houses are smaller, but the eclecticism is unabated:

Neoclassical

Colonial Revival with Gambrel Roof

Tudor Revival Hybrid with Colonial shutters, and big southern porch with New Orleans style decorative metal posts and rails.

Gracious modern ranch

Tumbledown spanish eclectic

and my personal favorite- Craftsman Log Cabin.

The side streets do not disappoint either, with various smaller, funky, folky eclectic offerings like these:

Glenview is now primarily a black neighborhood, the result of white flight of the '60s and '70s. A few weeks ago I was at a party talking to a young academic couple, apparently liberal, and also Midtown residents, about jogging in the neighborhood. She was surprised I ran south from my house. She said she was told not to go south of Southern Ave., the words 'ghetto', 'sketchy', and 'blight' were used. There is large-scale blight in this city, but not in the part of Glenview near S. Parkway, which I imagine is due in part to higher incomes (i.e. large houses), but also to the beauty of South Parkway and the houses along it. There is certainly a sense of pride in the neighborhood, although a few of the houses look ill-maintained. One thing I noticed here-  a lot more bright color than in other good neighborhoods in town (such as my own, sedate, neutral 'Central Gardens' which is exclusively white). I'm seeing the prouder black neighborhoods in town are accentuated by the use of color in trim, shutters, and eaves- greens, blues and yellows are especially popular. I also noted rustic stone cladding, statuary[lions at entrances], and fountains in the front yards. These are folk patterns I find charming [particularly the use of colorful trim] and wouldn't mind seeing more of around town.

One thing I'm not sure of is why some neighborhoods of about the same era in Memphis are not nearly as interesting as Glenview. [A google search revealed nothing, even though this is one of 8 Memphis neighborhoods with status 'Historic Residential Suburb' on the national register] I'm guessing that the since South Parkway area was undeveloped at the time, it was therefore more liberal and eccentric as frontiers tend to be. 

Last point: this neighborhood reminds me a bit of a few of the same era neighborhoods in Berkeley and San Francisco- funky, colorful, folksy eclecticism- again- individuals making their mark at the frontiers [...and as I'm learning, Memphis was most definitely a frontier...] during an era when one's home could express one's style and personality by unashamedly choosing from the pallet of history and whimsy.