In the morning, we dropped into Nauvoo, to see the site of the large midwest Mormon community which was established in the mid-19th cenury.. At its height there were about 15000 people in the settlement and a large temple was built. However, the community were persecuted by other local settlers and, when Joseph Smith was murdered in 1844, the Mormons abandoned the temple and moved west to establish a new community in Utah. Recently, the Mormon church has rebuilt the temple at Nauvoo and recreated elements of a 19th century village close by Unfortunately, the temple (which was not open to visitors) overwhelms the modern small town and the provision of factual information was accompanied by heavy-handed religious propaganda and a concerted effort to convert us. We left as quickly as possible.
Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn
Then to Hannibal, where Mark Twain spent most of his boyhood, in a family whose financial fortunes declined over time and who suffered a few tragedies along the way. Hannibal is pretty much a Mark Twain theme park, but outside the tourist season, it was very quiet. In addition to the home where Samuel Clemens grew up, there are a couple of other reconstructed buildings which are purportedly the homes of the children who were the models for Huckleberry Finn and Becky Thatcher. Samuel Clemens repeatedly noted that he wrote only from his personal experience and two musuems in the town illustrate that by juxtaposing extracts from his fictional and non-fictional writings. The whole experience is fascinating for Mark Twain buffs, but probably doesn’t hold much interest otherwise.
Tom's fence??
As it was getting late, we pushed on along route 61 and stopped at a Super 8, one of the cheapest of the budget hotel chains, though still with reasonable facilities and comfort. We ate in a nearby "family restaurant" – these are independent eating places found in many small communities in rural areas. They are typically in rather gloomy and old-fashioned premises, reminiscent of New Zealand country cafes in the 1950s, and serve reasonably-priced standard fare of moderate quality, but with a wider range than the big chain “restaurants”.
Tuesday 10th November
Getting to route 79, in order to follow the Mississippi, was barely worth the effort. We were immediately confronted by two large ugly industrial plants. The road then ran alongside the river and railway, through scrub and poor farmland punctuated by more chemical/cement works and small communities, some with a few facilities and shops for tourists. More prosperous farms appeared later, as the road veered west away from the river. Dodging St Louis by freeway, we took Highway 67 through the pleasant Mark Twain National Forest and intersected our route of a couple of weeks earlier, at Poplar Bluff. Shortly before crossing into Arkansas, we started to see pretty fields of speckled white and verges strewn with cotton fibre, presumably blown off the bushes or off trucks. We had not realised that cotton bushes are so small and low-growing.
We reached Memphis after dark and had more than a little trouble finding our way to the motel due to the many one-way roads and the fractured and incomprehensible road layout. The situation was compounded by the scrappy and inaccurate Memphis town map provided by the Tourist Information Office at our entry into Tennessee. We narrowly avoided getting stuck in temporary parking for a major music event. After composing ourselves in the modest and curiously named Vista Motel, which was central, but had no view beyond the backs of other premises, we ventured into Beale Street for a meal and excellent live old and new rock and blues in the famed Blues City Cafe, opposite B.B. King’s Blues Club. Beale Street was much smaller than we expected it to be, but it was full of life and excitement, with a musical cacophony which was somewhat overwhelming for OAPs like us.
Wednesday 11th November
Over the last two days, it has turned cloudy and a bit humid, associated with tropical storm Ida, which has been hitting Louisiana, Alabama and Georgia in the last 48 hours. Today, however, has dawned beautifully clear and sunny. As Ida now seems to be moving northeast quite quickly, we’re hopeful that the weather will remain fine when we move on to New Orleans, a couple of days from now.
On our way to the riverfront in the morning, we encountered a noisy and very long parade of school cadets (both boys and girls with rifles), being kept in marching order by remarkably competent school bands and accompanied, oddly, by groups of scantily-clad, inanely-grinning, dancing girls. They were watched and applauded by a large number of onlookers, many of whom seemed to be parents of the marchers. On enquiring, we learned what we should already have known – this was a Veterans’ Day parade. The militaristic and patriotic fervour of many of the young people caused us a moment’s sober consideration.
The riverfront was not very attractive or interesting, though pleasant enough. It would probably be more lively in the summer and on any day other than Veterans’ Day. The whole town was quiet, away from the parade.
We made our way to the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King was murdered in 1968. The motel has been frozen in time and a wreath marks the familiar balcony where Dr King was standing when he was shot.
A building adjacent to the motel houses the National Civil Rights Museum which gives a well-presented and interesting history of the roots, development and disintegration of the Civil Rights Movement. The only criticism of it might be that it is overly detailed, using a lot of text, but it brought back many vivid and shocking memories to we who read, heard and saw news reports of the events and the main players in the southern states at the time. The museum continues across the road in the previous apartment block from where it was thought the single fatal shot was fired by James Earl Ray, from a distance of only about 40 metres.
Having spent much longer in the museum than we anticipated, we had a late, but very good lunch (the shrimp po'boy was truly exceptional), then visited the interesting Cotton Exchange Museum. Unusually, the museum presentation includes a walk, guided by a personal audio commentary, around the surrounding streets. The majority of cotton businesses were based there until the 1960s, when improved electronic communication allowed deals to be made remotely, rather than in person. The rest of the museum exhibits are on the old exchange floor, which was used until the 1980s, when the internet replaced the telegraph and the telephone as the main source of information relevant to the cotton market. Nevertheless, the Memphis cotton market is reputedly still the biggest cotton spot market in the world. The museum did not shy away from noting the part slavery played in the cotton business, though it didn’t discuss it in detail. Interestingly, it did describe the link with the development of blues music.
After a brief visit to the plush Peabody Hotel to see the daily presentation of The Marching Ducks, which spend their days in a fountain in the museum’s foyer and return to their penthouse pen each evening by waddling into the elevator, we made a late visit to the Memphis Rock and Soul Museum. We thoroughly enjoyed the exhibits of memorabilia and the presentations about the evolution of rock ‘n’ roll, blues and soul music, but the museum is a Mecca for true connisseurs. The history of the Stax record company and the part it played in the promotion of black performers and the integration of blacks and whites in all facets of the popular music industry was particularly interesting.
More great live music accompanied dinner.
We felt that our choices of Things To Do in Memphis complemented each other well and gave a rounded (if brief) picture of the history of Memphis and the trials, tribulations and contributions of African Americans in the old and new economies of the city. Gracelands was about ninth in our list and we only got to number six. Neither did we see Elvis’ ghost during our stay. The city’s most famous son is put in his place following in the footsteps of the giants of rock and blues.
Two Memphis Icons
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