#lelandms

[trendsfocus]

Tragedy in Leland, MS: A mass shooting after the high school homecoming game leaves 6 dead and several injured. The community is in shock as authorities investigate.

[mississippithriving]

TOMORROW! Repost @deltahealthalliance Join us tomorrow, December 12, from 1-5pm at the Leland Recycling Center for a drive-thru mask giveaway! See the photo below for more details. #facemaskgiveaway #deltahealthalliance #dcpcyouthcouncil #lelandms https://www.instagram.com/p/CIrXV3eB289/?igshid=yeph9m9v82fx

[streetdiamondent]

This #BreadChasersTour bout to be EPIC #iswea #dallas #memphis #LelandMs #Atlanta ✊🏽🎥🎤💰💦 (at V Live Dallas)

[biggvradio]

#Repost @ricoowensjefe (@get_repost) ・・・ Saturday #July1st 🔥 @ BOSS uptown #LelandMs #4thofjuly #weekend #birthdaybash @biggvradio and @dj.rich.kid on Music Duty! (at Boss Hall's)

[biggvradio]

#Repost @ricoowensjefe 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 Saturday NITE 🔥 @ BOSS uptown #LelandMs #BreadChaserFamily ❌ #BlackMoneyGang (at Leland, Mississippi)

[biggvradio]

#Repost @ricoowensjefe (@get_repost) ・・・ SATURDAY #May20 🔥 @ Boss Hall | 106 E. Third St. #LelandMs Music by @biggvradio 🎤 #BreadChaserFamily #BlackMoneyGang #teambiggv (at Boss Hall's)

[only1destiny]

This moment is living. James "Son" Thomas playing big fat woman. My Uncle Larry would have loved to see this. #lelandms #hwy61

[billpichette]

Following the Blues Trail, Clarksdale, and the Tallahatchie

3/22/2014 – My next stop on my quick tour of Mississippi was Clarksdale and the Delta. At some point in my life I discovered that a lot of those rock songs I knew were remakes and much later I learned that to some degree the British musical invasion brought American music back to us. And so I became interested in the original or traditional, for songs with origins lost to time, versions of American classics like “Crossroads Blues”, “I Just Want to Make Love to You”, and “John the Revelator”. So I decided to do three things. First, visit sites related to those songwriters or performers. Second, visit museums and learn more, and third-a big addition to my trip through here several years ago-actually go to some old blues joint and hear some band play it loud. So I followed markers along the Mississippi Blues Trail, focusing on these goals. On the way I listened to these classics and some new blues artists. It seemed to fit the back roads and highways-I left the interstate way behind.

I found a sad story in Natchez. In 1940, a popular band filled the Rhythm Club there. Spanish moss hung from the ceilings for decoration and had been sprayed for bugs, making it highly flammable. When the fire started, the only exit quickly became jammed up and with the moss in a wood finished, metal-framed building, the devastation only took an hour. Over 200 people were dead. Songs were written for years in tribute.

I headed up Hwy 61, The Great River Road of legend, into the delta and delved into blues history. My first stop was Rolling Fork, which Muddy Waters claimed as his home, having been born on a sharecroppers’ plantation near here. When I was a kid, Foghat played a fast-paced rock classic. I was blown away years later when I heard the original, written by the great Willie Dixon and performed by a man first recorded in the Delta by a traveling Alan Lomax, who influenced the barefoot, overall-wearing Muddy Waters (born McKinley Morganfield) to record professionally. Muddy moved to Chicago, ditched his farmer’s garb for sharp suits, partnered with Dixon and so many other great musicians, and electrified the Delta blues. “I Just Want to Make Love to You” is a slow, powerful, primal blues song.

My next stop was in Leland, where I made one discovery and met a couple of characters that really made this part of the trip complete. As the “new” highway bypasses these old towns, it was a bit of a challenge to find downtown Leland. I parked on a side street and decided to look for the Highway 61 Blues Museum. First, on that corner was a Blues Trail marker commemorating Edgar and Johnny Winter, born into an influential family from Leland. I met a man outside of the museum who welcomed me and talked to volunteers who decided to let me in free. This turned out to be a unique experience, more chat than display, with a few performances mixed in. I did almost none of the talking. One of the staff was retired from the post office so after we joked about working for the government he showed me around, told me about the bluesman he knew, and showed me how poor kids in the early days created and played what became known as the diddley bo. Made from a piece of wire strung between boards or portable with a board or a box with a jar to tighten or "tune" the instrument, he played two of them with a metal slide and his fingers. The guy I met outside-Pat Thomas, “resident” museum musician and son of Delta bluesman James “Son” Thomas. He was also an artist as is his son. Pat gave me a drawing of a cat head on a domino, which I now keep in my camera case. I was absolutely astounded to meet Pat and hear him play, pretty amazed in the fact that he connects me and so many other visitors directly to the roots of blues in the heartland of the Mississippi River Delta.

Before heading to Clarksdale for the night and to hear a live performance, I had one more stop to make. Many early blues artists have connections to the cotton plantations and other farms in the area, working on the sharecroppers’ plantations. The music was created at work or when they had some time off. Workers traveling between the plantations shared what they created or learned. The first recordings, so I’m told, of delta blues, were by a man named Charley Patton. Patton worked east of Cleveland MS on the Dockery Farms. He entertained fellow workers, bluesman such as House, Robert Johnson, and others, here and while traveling to others. He was so well known and influenced so many other greats that Dockery Farms is hailed as “The Birthplace of the Blues”. The state, in a cautious move, puts a question mark on the trail marker, though. There has been, and continues to be, work done to preserve the cluster of buildings where musical, cultural, and American history played out.

I arrived in Clarksdale tired but excited. This town beats all as a foundation of blues and rock and roll. Its natives ARE the roots of American music. Eddie Boyd, Sam Cooke, John Lee Hooker, Son House, and Ike Turner were all born here. WC Handy, Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, and Gus Cannon (jug band pioneer) all lived and worked here. I had a recommendation from the gang in Leland-go to Red’s Lounge. As you can see from the picture, Red’s was not easy to find, but sitting here listening to Kingfish and the Blues Posse made it worth the effort. The played all the classics, with Kingfish playing lead and singing most of the songs, then switched up a little with another singer-sorry to say I didn’t get his name-joining in on some soul tunes. Highlights were Muddy’s “Hoochie Coochie Man”, and two from The Temptations’-“Papa Was a Rolling Stone” and an instrumental of their “Just My Imagination”. They played for hours, already going when I got there at 830 and still going strong when I left at 1230. I was surrounded by Canadians and Englishmen and locals at a very small place-pretty much the size of your neighborhood bar, with a few tables and a mix of stools and chairs in between. Red was selling beer out of two big coolers-the plastic kind-full of ice from behind the bar. He chastised me for saying I couldn’t stay another day, as they were hosting a birthday bash for a local bluesman and I would miss eating some of his barbecue. I thanked him for allowing me to be in his place, a living museum to the blues.

Before leaving Clarksdale, I visited the Delta Blues Museum for the second time-I had been here several years ago. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as Leland, but a great place to visit, with a collection of instruments, performing costumes, Muddy Waters' cabin, and photographs of the legends of the Delta. My new shirt from there reads “God, Please Forgive Robert Johnson”.

The legend of Robert Johnson (as well as the remakes I mentioned) is what first got me interested in blues music. The story was told, with details changed, in a crappy 80’s movie with Ralph Macchio, but with  Steve Vai as the Devil’s guitar player and great music by Ry Cooder. The real Robert Johnson learned from early blues pioneers but developed a style so unique that a story surfaced about him selling his soul to the devil in exchange for his talent. Son House once said that when he met him, Johnson couldn’t play guitar at all-he was a harmonica player. I was amazed when I saw a documentary where Eric Clapton, who recorded an album solely of Johnson tunes (in addition to his version of “Crossroads Blues” with Cream and so many other great remakes of blues classics) say that he had figured out how to play most of the songs by himself-all Johnson’s recordings are solo-but one in particular he could play but not sing at the same time. That was the magic that must have been some kind of deal, they say, sounding like multiple guitars and singing. Robert Johnson traveled around and played around, in more ways than one. Legend has it that the devil collected on their deal when Johnson was poisoned in Greenwood, MS by a jealous husband whose wife had been seeing the young man. Blues pioneer and legend Robert Johnson died at the age of 27 and is buried at the Mt Zion Baptist Church graveyard just outside Greenwood, though his resting place is still disputed. His songs, only 29 ever recorded, include “Crossroads Blues”, “Sweet Home Chicago”, and “I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom”.

The road past the graveyard connects Money with Greenwood, crossing over the Tallahatchie River. Money and the river are the setting for two American tragedies, one mythical and one very real. In 1967, Mississippi native Bobbie Gentry wrote and performed “Ode to Billy Joe”, about a young man who kills himself by jumping off the Tallahatchie Bridge, which burned and was replaced in 1972 by the one I drove over. I looked to make sure no one was standing there. I heard the story of a real American tragedy while standing in the “Hall of Shame” in Greensboro’s Civil Rights Museum (at the Woolworth’s). In 1955, Fourteen year old African-American Emmett Till was visiting relatives in Money, MS when he allegedly whistled at or flirted with a white woman. Her husband and another man abducted the boy that night, beat him to death, shot him in the face, and dumped his body in the Tallahatchie River. His mother wanted the world to see what had happened, so when his remains were returned to her in Chicago, she insisted on an open casket funeral. The killers were of course acquitted but later admitted guilt while free from any further prosecution.