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Wednesday, June 6, 2012

The Last of the Mississippi Jukes


Yesterday I's in Merigold...north of Cleveland and just south of Mound Bayou. If you're on 61 travelling north...take a left when you see the Dollar General on your right. Almost immediately you'll come to a trailer on your right that's sitting in the middle of a cemetery that hasn't had a burial since the 1880's...there are decaying tombstones in the front yard of this trailer. Take a left down the gravel road...and shortly you'll come to Po Monkey's.

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To the delight of American Studies types, it still sits on the edge of a cotton field...where it's been for 50 years.



I've never had the pleasure actually. As much time as I've been spending up here though, we should be able to fix that.

I tell where I have been though...where we had a lot of good nights...The Subway Lounge in Jackson on Pearl St.

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Of course, it's gone now. Robert Mugge made a documentary about the place in 2003...Last of the Mississippi Jukes. It pops up on IFC and other cable channels every now and again. I think at the time they were trying to save it but...it had been a death trap for decades.

Some times I hated the place. There could be this smug air, at the long table, of young Democrats slumming so they could tell their kids they used to hang out with black people. Very unfair and really kinda ridiculous on my part...but the loosened ties, awkward head shakes and table taps made it hard not to be a little skeptical.

Mostly I just loved it.

The last time we were there...me and Martha emerged on to Pearl St. with the sun in our eyes. Watched as the drummer was dragged out onto the sidewalk and waited to see him hauled in the back of an ambulance.

The place closed daybreak Sunday morning. They served beer there til around midnight. After that you had two options...bring your own booze or buy cans of Bud from the house next door.

I thought about the place yesterday as I sat in the car across from Po Monkey...and thought about Tom Schweers. He was a good buddy of mine...was a groomsman in my wedding. Until a couple of weeks ago, last I knew he was an officer in the Navy. Now I don't think he's with us any more. I ran into a mutual friend, J, the last time I was in New Orleans and the news wasn't good. Tom's daddy died of Huntington's disease and J said he had been diagnosed too. When they last they spoke he was in bad shape...that was five years ago.

There were no signs of deterioration the last time me and him were in The Subway Lounge...except for that brought on by Irish Whiskey. Man he loved that stuff. I tell you what else he loved, evidently more than life itself...lily white brunettes jittering in short red britches.

The place could really get rowdy after about 2am...really. That night it was laaate and we were standing...propped up...on the back wall when right in front of us, this girl jumps up and starts shaking like she's gettin' paid for it. Tom, high as a Georgia pine, locked in and, completely ignoring the two gigantic brothers that were with her, made a bee line for her. I grabbed him, pulled him back against the wall but...he was on a mission. Her friends I taken notice and after the second lunge, I dragged him up the stairs and out.

Since neither of us were in any shape to drive there was nothing to do but walk back to his place in Belhaven...after buying another six pack, of course. You'd really have to know Jackson to know just how extremely dangerous that walk was but...not as dangerous as the certain clobbering we were facing inside. We left a trail of freezing beer cans all the way home. I'm not even sure if we opened any of 'em. Fools and drunks...his sister never spoke to me again. I always got the blame.

I hate it that we got separated. I hate it that the Subway's gone. I reckon that's just how it goes.

6 comments:

  1. I meant to comment earlier - apologies!
    A very evocative tale, e.f. - I found it very easy to visualise, as if I was watching a film - and hearing the soundtrack too of course. I don't know Jackson (I don't know anywhere over there...) but, ya know, I still COULD imagine how extremely dangerous that walk was.

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    1. Ha. I was just talking to Adam about how slooow it had been around here this week...even the Dino Dan traffic has slowed to a gush.

      I'm glad you enjoyed it...the place was special.

      There must have been a deal struck between the owner and the neighborhood...because nobody would have parked their car even a block over in the daylight...much less all night long. I don't remember any incidents though.

      Of course once you left the block...all bets were off and it's only gotten worse.

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  2. The number of nights I spent in places like that when I was younger, not for pleasure mind you was working security. I got to see so much live music the good the bad and the ugly for sure. I get sad to now when I go back to see those places closed and boarded up. But time moves on and so do we. Your post reminds me of one of my best mates at that time in my life, we did everything together. When we weren't working we were drinking. I found out a couple months ago, he was stabbed in the heart working the door at a night club.. I hate too that we drew apart over the years he was a nice guy.

    also sorry I haven't messaged earlier mate, for some reason blogger isn't letting me know when you have posted.

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    1. The place was a real landmark...deep history in this town going back to it being a Black Hotel. They've talked about trying to reopen a version on Farish St. (the historical Black Business District...think Beale in Memphis) but that's somehow even sadder to think about.

      Tougher when you lose friends though.

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  3. that's how it rolls e.f.
    time just ticks and we don't take any note. Til we get pulled up straight by a hard fact.
    It's the memories makes it worthwhile.
    My best pal - fizzing with life when I saw her at that last grad party where I passed out drunk on gin and woke up without my bra and limped home through Glasgow at 7.15am on one shoe cos I couldn't find the other - whilst she was still partying... she died only 3 short years later without me ever managing to get another night with her. She never did stand still long enough for me to pin her down to a date. Worst still - I read her obit cos her mum had lost my number.

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    1. I reckon your right about that.

      It's funny about my friend. He would talk about his Daddy and obviously he knew what killed him...and the genetic nature of it but, he never talked about the possibility...I don't remember one discussion about it.

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