Yesterday began in the Shack Up Inn just outside of Clarksdale. The Shack Up is a rambling assemblage of old sharecropper shacks, a cotton gin, beaten up trucks, and wandering bluesmen. No glamor, but lots of heart. We loved it.
Between the Frank Zappa Krappa sign and some other rockabilly memorabilia, we spotted a sign that said call Mr. Bailey for more information about the Mississippi John Hurt Museum. He told us to meet him at the cross roads next to a boarded up gas station with lots of crosses. And so began our next adventure.
Mr. Bailey met us in his old truck and led us straight off the asphalt and onto a meandering mountain pass. Following close behind, we drove our rig under low hanging branches, around tight turns, and past all but abandoned old villages, and finally pulled off the road in front of a little shack.
It was as rustic as you’d expect a respected blues man’s cabin to be; it’s two small rooms were crammed with scattered memorabilia from his life, an old stove, some guitars, and a barber shop chair. It seems that the house was moved from Avalon up the hill to its current location, just behind John Hurt’s granddaughter’s house.
Mr Bailey led us onwards towards John Hurt’s final resting place deep in the forest, before bringing us to the Greenwood Newspaper where a local journalist came and snapped photos and interviewed us. We going to be famous in the Mississippi Delta.