Delta Blues Archives - Gayle Harper

Partly because I have the world’s worst sense of direction (cruel irony for a natural-born traveler) and partly because it’s just how I love to travel, I have no clue where I am. My daily routine while on this 90-day journey following a raindrop, is to have no routine, nor schedule, nor agenda. I follow any road that seems to beckon in any direction for any reason and often for no reason at all, trusting the GPS to find the way home at the end of the day. So, I don’t realize that I am heading into the small town of Leland, Mississippi, until I find myself on its main street – and I don’t remember having read about a small blues museum here until I see the sign, “Highway 61 Blues Museum,” which brings me to a stop.

Highway 61 Blues Museum
Leland, Mississippi

The straw-hatted man leaning near the door having a smoke grins at me and nods, as if affirming that I have made the right choice. As I approach, he says something which I can’t quite catch, but he is clearly inviting me inside. He follows me in and introduces himself as Pat Thomas, son of the legendary blues man and folk artist James “Son” Thomas and takes me to the display case of his father’s memorabilia. He comes here several times a week, he says, just to see who might stop by. It takes my ear a few minutes to grow accustomed to his speech and his deep Mississippi accent, but it takes no time at all to understand his smile and his piercing hazel eyes.

Since I am the only guest in the museum, we settle onto stools and he begins to talk about his father and the music and art that they shared. He didn’t need to know how to read, he says, “cuz you cain’t learn it from no book nohow.” His father taught him to sculpt and to find the clay along the river banks and taught him to draw using any materials they could find. He learned to play the blues, he says, just by watching his father’s fingers.

“Daddy always tol’ me,” he says, “they’s lots o’ ways you can have the blues. If you broke, that’s the blues. If you hungry, that’s the blues. If you got a good woman and she quit ya, that ain’t nothin’ but the blues.” “Sometime I get a happy blues feelin’,” he says, “and sometime I get a mad blues feelin’. It just somethin’ that come in ya – ya gotta feel it.”

Pat Thomas talking about his father

He gets very quiet when he talks about his father dying in 1993 and says that for a while he couldn’t play and “just hadda leave that guitar alone. But then,” he says, “I started feelin’ kinda shamefaced and I knowed I hadda put my heart there for my father.” Now, he mostly plays the old songs, just like his father did. “Sometimes,” he says, “I go to the graveyard and play and it seem like he kinda wakes up.” “But then,” he continues, “he just git back down in that hole o’ his.”

He takes up his guitar then and plays and sings for me and I know that I am hearing the “real Delta Blues” as it was heard on porches on sultry summer evenings. The simple, repeated lyrics tell of a love gone bad, but beneath that is a soul’s need to sing to sustain a body through a life of hard work and oppression. We can hear the stories, see photos and visit museums, but only those who lived it know what it was like to be black in a segregated South. This is the music of such souls.

Pat Thomas Playing and Singing the Blues

It’s tough to describe Pat Thomas. He is some mixture of wisdom and innocence and keen perception. When he smiles, his whole face is transformed and when he laughs, his whole body participates; yet there is something more going on, something a little mysterious behind those hazel eyes.

Pat Thomas

When it’s time to go, Pat draws a “diamond-eyed cat” for me and says to keep it with me for good luck. “It’s got hoodoo magic,” he says with no trace of a smile. I can’t say I understand much about hoodoo, only that it is different than voodoo and originated here in the Delta among slaves. When he hands me the drawing, however, and looks into my eyes, I get goosebumps. So, I tape my diamond-eyed cat to the dashboard and let it ride shotgun a while.

My Diamond-Eyed Cat

Click here Pat Thomas to hear a bit of him singing “Highway 61 “Blues”

I rolled into Clarksdale, Mississippi as a blank slate. All I knew of it was that The Blues thrived there, now and in the past. Before I left home, there had been a call from Tommy Polk, a talented singer-songwriter whose music has been recorded by artists like Martina McBride and Crystal Gayle. Tommy grew up in the Mississippi Delta, had gotten word of my journey and was calling to invite me to stay in his Big Pink Guest House in Clarksdale. I’ll meet Tommy himself farther downriver in Natchez.

On the surface, Clarksdale looks like another dusty Delta town that has seen its better days. But, don’t be fooled! Look a little deeper and it begins to show itself as a vibrant town full of stories, of masterful storytellers and a wellspring of creativity expressed in every way imaginable. My first hour in town was spent with Pal (short for Palmer) Foster, who manages the Guest House for Tommy. As he checked me in and showed me the house, he filled my head with story after story of the cast of characters who make his hometown what it is.

When you step into the foyer of the pink brick Victorian house, Elvis sneers down at you from atop a beautiful grandfather clock. He’s there, Pal tells me, because the previous owner of the house, Virginia Anderson (whose colorful life story could be a book unto itself) dated “The King” for about three months. Then across the interior courtyard, past the fountain complete with wooden ducks and up the spiral staircase to my balconied room, “The Stella”. Tennessee Williams grew up in Clarksdale and the room is named in homage to Stella in A Streetcar Named Desire.

Seriously – Clarksdale must be some kind of vortex of creative energy. It makes one want to drink plenty of tap water or suck in deep breaths of the air or absorb it in whatever way it is done! There are tales of Tennessee Williams, Eudora Welty and John Faulkner hanging out together and trying to drink each other under the table. Then there is the music. I can’t even begin to do justice in this space to the musical history here. If you are a Blues fan, I don’t have to tell you. Even if you’re not very familiar with this rich, smoky, earthy, soul-stirring music that many say was born here, you’ll likely recognize names of those that lived and made music here like John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson and Son House. The renowned Delta Blues Museum is right next door to the Big Pink and I had every intention of going there. As we know, my intentions aren’t worth squat! I was in town over a weekend and on Saturday I was sucked into the quirky, crazy, creative life of Clarksdale and Sunday they were closed. I was invited, and tempted to stay another day, but the raindrop waits for nothing and the next stop deserves its allotted time as well. If you decide to come, stay more than two days!

One of my very favorite actors, Morgan Freeman, lives near here and is nurturing the current crop of Blues artists at his Blues Club, “Ground Zero”. I loved the story of Freeman’s answer to a question from a talk show host, “You are so successful – why in the world would you choose to live in Mississippi?” Morgan’s answer was, “Because I can.”

Music is everywhere – even at the Saturday morning Farmer’s Market, a group was playing that included a talented young boy on the drums with other, more seasoned artists.

There was also a little guy who demonstrated how talent is allowed to grow here.

He could barely reach the cymbals with his sticks, but he was serious about making some music with them. No one stopped him or pulled him away because he was following his own beat – they smiled at him and kept playing. That’s how it happens.

I could write pages and pages about all the creative people connected to Clarksdale (seriously, for whatever reason, this place just oozes with it!) I’ll tell you about two that I met.

Three or four people said, “You must meet John Ruskey”. So, I wandered into his shop, The Quapaw Canoe Company, to see if that was possible. He was packing gear and canoes preparing to take a group of Boy Scouts on a river adventure on the Mississippi. Still, he found some time to show me around and tell me a little about his work. John has been paddling the Mississippi for more than 20 years and loves making it possible for others to do that. In addition to leading expeditions, offering classes and workshops, he makes canoes ranging from dugouts to the gorgeous 22’ wooden canoe he was loading up today. Honestly, the wood and the workmanship are so elegant, it looked more like a piece of fine furniture than something you would fill with Boy Scouts and put in the river. Although John didn’t mention it, I learned from others he is also a very talented musician, painter and writer! He even cooks for his guests on the river. I feel a trip back to Clarksdale somewhere in the future!

Finally, in the pure magic of following Serendipity, I was granted an opportunity to meet Marshall Bouldin III. I’m almost hesitant to write about the afternoon with him in a few paragraphs, because the experience deserves much more. But, here goes. Mr. Bouldin is a nationally-known portrait artist whose work hangs in museums and the private collections of presidents, governors and astronauts. It’s an illustrious career that has filled and blessed most of his 87 years, but impressive as that is, it is not what makes the experience of meeting him so potent. My new friend, Pal, has known him all his life and still says it feels like “an audience with the Pope” when he visits him. There is such a strong Presence about him – such a sense of wisdom and goodness, that I immediately wanted only to be quiet and listen. He talked about art – what it is and is not – and he talked about his life filled with art and blessings. He gets up every morning, excited to get to work and see what problems or ideas will appear. He hopes to do something new or better or different, always reaching toward perfection and always knowing it isn’t something that can be grasped. He talked about the act of creating art and how on one level it requires a perfect balance between the right and left side of the brain. But he also talked about how inspiration comes through us. “It ain’t me”, he said, “I’m just here playing, doing what I enjoy, what I think God wants me to do. I’m the most fortunate man in the world.”

When I told him Pal had loaned me the beautiful book about his life and work printed by the Mississippi Museum of Art, he got tears in his eyes as he described the book being created and presented to him as a surprise. I told him how it had inspired me at this point in my journey. After 68 days of what sometimes feels like a marathon, it was a point where I needed to be reminded that my only job is to say thank you for this moment and to keep doing what it seems God wants me to do. I felt blessed, renewed, inspired and honored to have met this great man.

HOODOO EYES – Roadtripping With a Raindrop, Moment #3

In the Presence of Greatness