Speaking of not seeing the
inside of houses associated with famous people, driving out of Tupelo,
Nick and I saw the sign for the Elvis
Presley Birthplace
Museum and Park. We had decided that time was short and that
we were going to use Tupelo
as only a brief overnight, but the sign said it was less than a mile off the
highway, so we went. Since it was a
Sunday morning and July 4th, the museum and home were closed. Even though I am not really an Elvis fan,
there was something deeply moving about the small house, such humble beginnings
for the King of Rock and Roll. We didn’t
stay long, because I was determined to visit Rowan Oak, Faulkner’s home. It is named for the mythic, magical qualities
of the Rowan and so I felt a special connection since PROVIDENCE GAP started
with a fascination with the legends of the Rowan tree.
Add another one to the
houses I got to view from the outside only.
It is beautiful indeed and I will make sure I come back on another day
than the Fourth of July. And Oxford’s town square is
pure Southern charm. Well worth a repeat
visit.
After a brief stop in
Batesville, where a packed parking lot led us to a remarkable buffet of fresh
vegetables and brilliant beef brisket, we pulled into Clarksdale, MS. I am always amazed when a community can
maintain a sense of place and uniqueness in the face of globalization and
homogenization. Such a community is Clarksdale. I fell instantly in love with its past glory
and faded elegance. I can’t wait to go
back.
Clarksdale is known for two things. It was a childhood refuge for the young
Tennessee Williams, who would spend time with his grandparents. It is also a leading candidate for the
location of the birthplace of the Blues.
I came for Tennessee Williams and fell head over heels in love with the
blues.
Our first stop was the
funky, fun and incredibly cool Shack Up Inn, a collection of sharecropper
shacks, barely restored and reassembled on the outskirts of town. After several nights of cookie cutter
roadside motels, the fresh and unexpected Shack Up Inn ranks as one of my
favorite places I have ever stayed. Next
was the church where Williams’ grandfather preached. The church and rectory were the inspiration for
several plays. As was a glass collection
displayed in the window of a house owned by Mrs. Wingfield over on Catalpa Ave. And Blanche Cutrer impressed young Tennessee with her
Southern style, lending the Cutrer name to a number of plays, Blanche to one of
his greatest creations. And many believe
her Italian Renaissance Mansion
on Clark St
is the real life Belle Reve.
There’s also no doubt that
an old gambling, dancing and dinner joint on Moon Lake about 20 miles north of
the city is the real life Moon Lake Casino that features so prominently in so
many of the plays. Williams, Faulkner
and many others use to come out to Moon
Lake for games, booze and
romance. The Casino is now a small bed
and breakfast and restaurant—Uncle Henry’s Place.
Nick and I arrived as the
sun was just beginning to set over Moon
Lake. And I felt the presence of Blanche and her
young husband with a secret about to be uncovered hovering in the humid summer
heat, waiting to explode like the fireworks from an island in the middle of the
lake that illuminted the night. We had
reservations and when the waitress led us into the dining room, I expected a
crowd, but the only other table was made up of two of my directing students and
Cheryl, the delightful young actress who played Millie in PICNIC last season
and will be Laura in Glass Menagerie.
Bryan and JB have heard me talk about the value of visiting the places
that inspired the plays we are directing and since JB is directing ORPHEUS
DESCENDING next Spring at UNCG, they had flown into Memphis and come down to
Clarksdale for a couple of days.
Dinner was not only
delicious, but a real experience as the owner/chef entertained us with stories
and ended the evening with a tour of the building. A total experience in Southern hospitality
and a great character study. He
frequently referred to actors as pseudo-intellectuals. We all left Moon Lake
and headed back downtown to Bluesberry Café to catch Watermelon Slim in
concert. The music, the southern night,
the sense of being in a place so real, so unique made the whole evening a
Fourth of July to remember.
A couple of months ago, my
friend Elizabeth and I took a weekend trip out on Long
Island, stopping at the Jackson Pollack house and Studio. We were both overwhelmed by the experience,
but after leaving, I asked what it was that made a paint splattered floor so inspirational. It could have been Triad Stage’s paint
shop. After all it was just floor and
paint. We began to talk about what it
was about places that make them more than just the building, the
geography. I’ve seen hundreds of
Episcopalian churches in hundreds of small Southern towns. Why should the one in Clarksdale been worthy of hundreds of miles
of driving. Is it something special like
an energy, or is it just that we imbue them with that special energy by our
love for the work produced in them?
Nick and I ended the
evening sitting on the front porch of our shack, drinking tequila, slapping
mosquitoes and talking about this fabulous, unexpected town—making plans to
visit the site of Blues legend Bessie Smith’s death, the Blues Museum and
Tennessee Williams park before heading down the Great River Road toward
Natchez.
(See the photo albums for samples of architecture we have admired.)
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Posted by: orapleclordat | 12/13/2011 at 12:19 AM