Day 3: April 23, 2019
Memphis Meetup

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It was a fairly short drive to pick up my friend Alex at the north edge of Memphis then head to the city's oldest restaurant for breakfast. The GPS was not needed for this little excursion. Alex is one of the few people who I enjoy getting directions from. They are always given at the right time in exactly the right amount. Our first thought on seeing the construction blockade on Main Street was that a detour was in order, but we quickly realized that the street was open just far enough. Waiting at the light gave a guy in a pickup truck just enough time to leave his parking place for us, and the counter stayed empty just long enough for me to grab a picture after we got inside. I knew that the Arcade was the oldest restaurant in Memphis but I didn't realize exactly how old. It opened in 1919 so this is its centennial year. Glad we could help celebrate.

I'm not sure what to call this giant standing in front of a big fireworks store south of Memphis. He's clearly not a Muffler Man. I'm thinking Towel Bar Man. A sign just beyond takes the guesswork out of knowing what road you're on.

My one stop in Clarksdale, MS, was near Ground Zero Blues Club which I popped into for a beer. I initially thought I'd lucked into some live music then realized the lady playing saxophone was with a group of Italian tourists and she was playing requested snippets to entertain her companions. She soon left the stage, packed up her sax, and took a seat with the group. Did she bring the instrument from Italy just for such occasions? I'll never know. thought

I walked to Red's and Cat Head, and did drive-bys of the Riverside Hotel, Abe's BBQ, and the crossroad marker. Inside Cat Head, I had a great conversation with Frank, who described himself as owner Roger Stolle's only employee. Among the stories he shared was one about a guy who entered the store asking when Red's had burned. Frank, pretty sure he would have heard of any such fire, said it hadn't. "Oh yeah", the fellow assured him. "I was just by there and it's all boarded up." With a laugh, Frank explained to the first time visitor that Red's looks like that all the time.

My day ended in Indianola at the B. B. King Museum. For the second day in a row, I'd failed to check an establishment's schedule and arrived barely an hour before closing. I wasn't worried and thought that would be enough but I was wrong. The story of BB's life and the world he came from is an absorbing one told with recorded interviews, video clips, and artifacts. I hurried through the last few displays and exited only about ten minutes late with the accommodating staff locking doors behind me.

The brick building was formerly a cotton gin where BB once worked. An expansion of the museum, which I believe will at least partially cover the grave site, is planned for later this year. I'll be back and I'll arrive much earlier next time.


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