flung Hannibal into memory and drove hard and fast for Chicago. In an half hour, through twitter, facebook, and texts (all over cellphone,) we had a plethora of options. Stayed in an amazing place in Lincoln Park. (Thanks, John)
Lost control of the night somewhere. Woke up with this:
oh, god, and this:
Then, hightailing it to Pittsburgh, I ended up with this.
the pullover
Fuck my life.
The prettiest 4th of July in recent memory. We were driving through rural Ohio and watched fireworks go off in small towns for miles and miles.
July 22, 2010
July 17, 2010
Hannibal, MO
As both the thematic and geographic capstone of our climb up the river, my expectations for Hannibal were high. Mark Twain was born in Flordia, MO, not far from Hannibal, where he spent most of his adolescence. Twain drew from his years in Hannibal for inspiration for many of the characters and places in Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. This year was the 175th anniversary of his birth– and the annual "Tom Sawer Days" festival was set to be bigger than ever before. Sadly, my high expectations were not well met.
But let's backtrack a bit: we left Memphis early as hell (read: 3am) in order to get to Cairo at dawn (pronounced KAY-row), where the Ohio and the Mississippi river join forces, and still make it to Hannibal in time for the parade. We departed in the night after two or three hours of sleep and arrived in Cairo just as the sun was peaking over the horizon. We jumped on our bikes and took a short ride into the now-abandoned single tourist attraction in Cairo: the RV park in the little leg of land that extends out between the two rivers before they merge. This town was so poor it couldn't maintain its only possible tourist money machine.
Almost every building in Cairo had a "for public auction" sign on it. Some of these buildings would make amazing artist studios, this place felt like what I imagine Marfa felt like before Donald Judd came and bought up all the land. There were still a few people inhabiting the city– it wasn't a ghost town exactly– it had the feel of a town that in it's old age had grown unsure what to do with itself.
After a short amount of exploring we parted ways with Cairo, a town rich with history and beset with problems, in order to reach Hannibal in time for the parade, which I, like any red-blooded American, was disproportionately excited about.
We rolled into town and it looked like any other middle American town. At one point, it had industry, and now, it doesn't. So in order to continue to exist it had to latch on to the one thing it still has: history. Since Hannibal stopped being an important stop on the river it has been come a deadly tourist trap designed to suck the life out of every last drop of authentic experience.
Do you ever wish something was a joke... that sadly isn't (and takes itself far too seriously)? Everything in Hannibal attempted to profiteer from its native son. There was a "Mark Twain Boyhood home, Becky Thatcher House, Twainland Express, Mark Twain Wax Museum, Mark Twain Family Restaurant, Mark Tawain Dinette, Mark Twain Fried Chicken, Mark Twain Book & Gift Shop, Beck Thatcher Book & Gift Shop, Mark Twain Card Shop, Tom Sawyer Dioramas, Mark Twain Cave, Mark Twain Riverboat, Tom 'n' Huck Motel, Best Western Hotel Clemens, Mark Twain Outdoor Theatre, Huck Finn Shopping Center..." to name a few. (From Lies Across America) Of course there was also the annual Tom & Becky contests where pre-teen kids dress up as their best likeness to the famous character and give speeches of why they should be this years Tom or Becky (it felt sort of like Prom Queen and King). And don't forget the National Annual fence painting competition where professional level fence painters speed-paint to victory.
What we saw here was a white-washed Mark Twain, a Twain whose impersonators played as a genial southern gentleman without the characteristic lightning-bolt sarcasm and snake-bite wit. If one were to assess the content of his books based on the shops and attractions in Hannibal, one would get a picture of watered-down children's storyteller. There was no Jim the Slave in sight; there was no depth of any kind in what this town believed Twain was; the essential themes of racism, humanity and coming-of-age had sadly been completely lost.
I'm sure this is not an uncommon problem in many small historical landmark towns. I don't know why it hit me so hard here– maybe I just expected more from a town which held the legacy of such a powerful and controversial American writer than I would from any other old historical money grab.
I'm not sure if all this comes through in the photos, but here they are. – L
Hand-carved Twain and friends
Hand-carved and painted Huck Finn Diorama
Contestants for the Tom & Beck contest
Twain impersonator
This Twain impersonator took a liking to Walker
I have no idea but I like it
But let's backtrack a bit: we left Memphis early as hell (read: 3am) in order to get to Cairo at dawn (pronounced KAY-row), where the Ohio and the Mississippi river join forces, and still make it to Hannibal in time for the parade. We departed in the night after two or three hours of sleep and arrived in Cairo just as the sun was peaking over the horizon. We jumped on our bikes and took a short ride into the now-abandoned single tourist attraction in Cairo: the RV park in the little leg of land that extends out between the two rivers before they merge. This town was so poor it couldn't maintain its only possible tourist money machine.
Almost every building in Cairo had a "for public auction" sign on it. Some of these buildings would make amazing artist studios, this place felt like what I imagine Marfa felt like before Donald Judd came and bought up all the land. There were still a few people inhabiting the city– it wasn't a ghost town exactly– it had the feel of a town that in it's old age had grown unsure what to do with itself.
After a short amount of exploring we parted ways with Cairo, a town rich with history and beset with problems, in order to reach Hannibal in time for the parade, which I, like any red-blooded American, was disproportionately excited about.
We rolled into town and it looked like any other middle American town. At one point, it had industry, and now, it doesn't. So in order to continue to exist it had to latch on to the one thing it still has: history. Since Hannibal stopped being an important stop on the river it has been come a deadly tourist trap designed to suck the life out of every last drop of authentic experience.
Do you ever wish something was a joke... that sadly isn't (and takes itself far too seriously)? Everything in Hannibal attempted to profiteer from its native son. There was a "Mark Twain Boyhood home, Becky Thatcher House, Twainland Express, Mark Twain Wax Museum, Mark Twain Family Restaurant, Mark Tawain Dinette, Mark Twain Fried Chicken, Mark Twain Book & Gift Shop, Beck Thatcher Book & Gift Shop, Mark Twain Card Shop, Tom Sawyer Dioramas, Mark Twain Cave, Mark Twain Riverboat, Tom 'n' Huck Motel, Best Western Hotel Clemens, Mark Twain Outdoor Theatre, Huck Finn Shopping Center..." to name a few. (From Lies Across America) Of course there was also the annual Tom & Becky contests where pre-teen kids dress up as their best likeness to the famous character and give speeches of why they should be this years Tom or Becky (it felt sort of like Prom Queen and King). And don't forget the National Annual fence painting competition where professional level fence painters speed-paint to victory.
What we saw here was a white-washed Mark Twain, a Twain whose impersonators played as a genial southern gentleman without the characteristic lightning-bolt sarcasm and snake-bite wit. If one were to assess the content of his books based on the shops and attractions in Hannibal, one would get a picture of watered-down children's storyteller. There was no Jim the Slave in sight; there was no depth of any kind in what this town believed Twain was; the essential themes of racism, humanity and coming-of-age had sadly been completely lost.
I'm sure this is not an uncommon problem in many small historical landmark towns. I don't know why it hit me so hard here– maybe I just expected more from a town which held the legacy of such a powerful and controversial American writer than I would from any other old historical money grab.
I'm not sure if all this comes through in the photos, but here they are. – L
Hand-carved Twain and friends
Hand-carved and painted Huck Finn Diorama
Contestants for the Tom & Beck contest
Twain impersonator
This Twain impersonator took a liking to Walker
I have no idea but I like it
July 13, 2010
How Can I Say?
Pulling into Memphis, the plan was to record a song with a pop-country band called Beauregard. I was excited because this would have been my first collaboration with a band and not just an individual. It became clear—through all the subtle, indirect signals they threw out there—that they were not interested in working together after all. Being close to Graceland and Stax inspired me. I really wanted to work with a band because I wanted to make a soul song! Thursday night passed, Friday passed, still no song, still no play date with Beauregard.
Our host Jaclyn has a beautiful voice and we’d talked from the beginning about doing something together. I figured if I couldn’t get a full band country song out of Memphis I at least wanted to get something equally as grand. I had the concept for the song. Logan, Jacyln and I knocked these lyrics out in about 25 minutes. It definitely was not hard to work with this rhyming scheme.
Eventually, I’m going to add some backup vocals to this track but for now enjoy my best Elvis...
Enjoy.
how can I say
Our host Jaclyn has a beautiful voice and we’d talked from the beginning about doing something together. I figured if I couldn’t get a full band country song out of Memphis I at least wanted to get something equally as grand. I had the concept for the song. Logan, Jacyln and I knocked these lyrics out in about 25 minutes. It definitely was not hard to work with this rhyming scheme.
Eventually, I’m going to add some backup vocals to this track but for now enjoy my best Elvis...
Enjoy.
how can I say
July 8, 2010
Memphis by photograph
GRACELAND: Worth the $30
Elvis everything. Pretty sure I saw an Elvis Pez dispenser
There were a lot of people who LOVED america
Graceland Livin' Room
Elvis loves mirrors at least as much as I do
Inside Elvis' plane, the Lisa Marie
Heyo!
MEMPHIS: A LOT OF COOL NON-ELVIS STUFF
Gus' Fried Chicken!
Where Martin Luther King Jr. was shot.
My attempt at Robert Frank
Walker's new facebook pic
Elvis everything. Pretty sure I saw an Elvis Pez dispenser
There were a lot of people who LOVED america
Graceland Livin' Room
Elvis loves mirrors at least as much as I do
Inside Elvis' plane, the Lisa Marie
Heyo!
MEMPHIS: A LOT OF COOL NON-ELVIS STUFF
Gus' Fried Chicken!
Where Martin Luther King Jr. was shot.
My attempt at Robert Frank
Walker's new facebook pic
July 7, 2010
Meat Me In Memphis
Before leaving Amory and before Tupelo Logan and I had chicken fried steak sandwiches with french fries and hush puppies. Eating a meal like that would normally be a treat. Following MeatFest 2010 the night before (which, if you remember, was following Manifest Meat: A New You in Natchez,) we felt awful. Well, what do you eat when you go to Memphis? BBQ. Memphians (Memphites? -L) have intense loyalty to their BBQ spots. Logan and I have very little willpower when it's a question of self-care vs. an Experience... Alas, we found ourselves at Central BBQ. I'm a chronic plate clearer but even I couldn't finish what I started. Pre-rub is not as good as Texas BBQ (in my humble opinion) but it's nice to get a sandwich with slaw on it.
Five-Alarm Artery-Stopper
Another chicken fried steak eatin' patron
Waiting for food, I hit up the jukebox. I usually choose songs that I know but do not own and/or have with me in my current situation in life. Occasionally, I'll choose a song because I've always wanted to hear it but have never been in the right place at the right time. Central BBQ, Memphis, Tennessee was the moment that I decided to find out what "Strokin" by Clarence Carter sounded like. If you've never heard this song then you probably can't imagine the shock on the All-American family, the only people really in earshot of the jukebox, when I put this song on. You also probably can't imagine the double embarrassment I felt when I realized that Logan, Jaclyn and Sara had decided to sit outside where, you guessed it, you can't hear the jukebox.
45 year old woman: oh my gawd, did he really just choose this song?
other 45 year old woman: oh my ga... he did
young child 1: mom what's strokin'?
young child 2: who's clarence carter?
Enjoy.
Clarence Carter-Strokin'
Walker, why the hell do you know this dirty old song? When I was in 5th grade, my mom's family rented a beach house somewhere in Florida. After dinner one night, my dad--slightly drunk, definitely bored and probably a little annoyed--started rummaging through the cabinet next to the stereo. "Holy shit," he says pulling his head out of the cabinet and looking toward the stereo. "I haven't heard this in forever!" The cassette tape enters. The song begins. I forgot what the song sounded like, but I never forgot the way he danced or his Clarence Carter impression. While I didn't quite understand why eyes were rolling and relatives were leaving the living room, I did understand that I was watching something priceless....didn't realize it was a little fucked up too! love you, Dad.
DUSTY IN MEMPHIS...NOT QUITE.
I can't resist. Heard at Central BBQ.
Dusty in Memphis
It sounds like the woman says son of a bitch during the guitar solo which adds a lot to this song in the way of depth and/or dirty talk.
the real deal
FIRST DAY IN MEMPHIS
Magnolia by the river
Huck Finn, circa 2010
Five-Alarm Artery-Stopper
Another chicken fried steak eatin' patron
Waiting for food, I hit up the jukebox. I usually choose songs that I know but do not own and/or have with me in my current situation in life. Occasionally, I'll choose a song because I've always wanted to hear it but have never been in the right place at the right time. Central BBQ, Memphis, Tennessee was the moment that I decided to find out what "Strokin" by Clarence Carter sounded like. If you've never heard this song then you probably can't imagine the shock on the All-American family, the only people really in earshot of the jukebox, when I put this song on. You also probably can't imagine the double embarrassment I felt when I realized that Logan, Jaclyn and Sara had decided to sit outside where, you guessed it, you can't hear the jukebox.
45 year old woman: oh my gawd, did he really just choose this song?
other 45 year old woman: oh my ga... he did
young child 1: mom what's strokin'?
young child 2: who's clarence carter?
Enjoy.
Clarence Carter-Strokin'
Walker, why the hell do you know this dirty old song? When I was in 5th grade, my mom's family rented a beach house somewhere in Florida. After dinner one night, my dad--slightly drunk, definitely bored and probably a little annoyed--started rummaging through the cabinet next to the stereo. "Holy shit," he says pulling his head out of the cabinet and looking toward the stereo. "I haven't heard this in forever!" The cassette tape enters. The song begins. I forgot what the song sounded like, but I never forgot the way he danced or his Clarence Carter impression. While I didn't quite understand why eyes were rolling and relatives were leaving the living room, I did understand that I was watching something priceless....didn't realize it was a little fucked up too! love you, Dad.
DUSTY IN MEMPHIS...NOT QUITE.
I can't resist. Heard at Central BBQ.
Dusty in Memphis
It sounds like the woman says son of a bitch during the guitar solo which adds a lot to this song in the way of depth and/or dirty talk.
the real deal
FIRST DAY IN MEMPHIS
Magnolia by the river
Huck Finn, circa 2010
We're going to Graceland-- Memphis, Tennessee.
...and yes we sang the song driving in on 78.
Driving into Memphis is unceremonious. I've done it twice now. When you come in from Arkansas you get to cross the Mississippi. Like most big cities the river has been tailor fit--levees, parks, pollution, buildings on each side.
Check out Mississippi in Natchez vs this recording in Memphis. The recorder is literally 6 inches from the water and all you can hear is the train passing over head, cars and logan stomping around. Mississippi Memphis
Driving in from Mississippi, you get the distinct feeling that Memphis is... well, nothing special. Not the home of early rock-n-roll (Sun Records i.e. Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins, etc.) not the home home of Stax records (Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, Booker T & the MG's, Sam & Dave, Eddie Floyd, Isaac Hayes, etc.) and definitely not the kind of place you'd expect lots of tourists to end up in.
We stayed at the home of a Southwestern graduate, Jaclyn Suffel, and her roommmate, Sara Nelson. This is the second time I've stayed at their home and the first time that they've been present while I stayed there. They went completely out of their way to host us and be tour guides for us. Frankly, we were so used to roughin' it, we didn't know how to react at first. Jaclyn would tell you that she let us stay at her house because I went to Southwestern and we have mutual friends and thats what the SU commmunity does for each other. There is some degree of truth to this but it really doesn't give her or Sara credit for how accommodating and nice they really were. Thank you guys.
Driving into Memphis is unceremonious. I've done it twice now. When you come in from Arkansas you get to cross the Mississippi. Like most big cities the river has been tailor fit--levees, parks, pollution, buildings on each side.
Check out Mississippi in Natchez vs this recording in Memphis. The recorder is literally 6 inches from the water and all you can hear is the train passing over head, cars and logan stomping around. Mississippi Memphis
Driving in from Mississippi, you get the distinct feeling that Memphis is... well, nothing special. Not the home of early rock-n-roll (Sun Records i.e. Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins, etc.) not the home home of Stax records (Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, Booker T & the MG's, Sam & Dave, Eddie Floyd, Isaac Hayes, etc.) and definitely not the kind of place you'd expect lots of tourists to end up in.
We stayed at the home of a Southwestern graduate, Jaclyn Suffel, and her roommmate, Sara Nelson. This is the second time I've stayed at their home and the first time that they've been present while I stayed there. They went completely out of their way to host us and be tour guides for us. Frankly, we were so used to roughin' it, we didn't know how to react at first. Jaclyn would tell you that she let us stay at her house because I went to Southwestern and we have mutual friends and thats what the SU commmunity does for each other. There is some degree of truth to this but it really doesn't give her or Sara credit for how accommodating and nice they really were. Thank you guys.
July 5, 2010
Elvis' childhood home-- don't go.
I'm an Elvis fan. My love for him is deep, smooth and irrational. I don't judge this love too much nor am I quite sure I understand why I'm so taken with the King. Go to Graceland. I went on my way to New York last year and am not quite sure i've ever recovered from this experience.
I did not have high hopes for the childhood home but was nonetheless let down. War profiteering, I tell you. Here is everything you need to know about this place so that you can avoid it.
After playing at the country fair way back when, Elvis drove by his former house only to find that the house and surrounding land were for sale. Elvis donated the money to the city so that they would make the land into a park. Some years after Elvis died, someone bought some cheap imitation period furniture, moved a small pentacostal church onto the property (that Elvis maybe went), pilfered what artifacts weren't good enough for Graceland and created this museum.
The only thing worthwhile was the tour guide in the house. Her entire spiel last about four minutes. I'm going to paraphase it for you. She sounded like a female version of the Tom Anderson character from Beavis and Butthead.
"Elvis came and played at the Tupelo county fair. I was there and screaming like all the other girls. I couldn't tell you one song that he played but I do remember that he had a black silk shirt with big sleeves. If I saw him today I'd scream just the same."
"did you ever get to meet Elvis?"
"I'm not sure I'd be capable of that."
Adorable.
W
Update from Logan:
I can't keep up with my bloggin' compatriot
Elvis at 13
The church they moved from somewhere...
I did not have high hopes for the childhood home but was nonetheless let down. War profiteering, I tell you. Here is everything you need to know about this place so that you can avoid it.
After playing at the country fair way back when, Elvis drove by his former house only to find that the house and surrounding land were for sale. Elvis donated the money to the city so that they would make the land into a park. Some years after Elvis died, someone bought some cheap imitation period furniture, moved a small pentacostal church onto the property (that Elvis maybe went), pilfered what artifacts weren't good enough for Graceland and created this museum.
The only thing worthwhile was the tour guide in the house. Her entire spiel last about four minutes. I'm going to paraphase it for you. She sounded like a female version of the Tom Anderson character from Beavis and Butthead.
"Elvis came and played at the Tupelo county fair. I was there and screaming like all the other girls. I couldn't tell you one song that he played but I do remember that he had a black silk shirt with big sleeves. If I saw him today I'd scream just the same."
"did you ever get to meet Elvis?"
"I'm not sure I'd be capable of that."
Adorable.
W
Update from Logan:
I can't keep up with my bloggin' compatriot
Elvis at 13
The church they moved from somewhere...
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