Like most museums, the tour ended at the gift shop. Thankfully they were still open, ringing up the sales to the last couple of straggler shoppers from the last tour. I quickly made a beeline for the iconic snap logo t-shirts and looked at a sweatshirt for my brother but realized I did not have room in my saddle bags. I did buy a t-shirt as well as mementos for my kids and a mouse pad I proudly used at work for over 10 years. As I power shopped I had a delightful time talking with the hip and keenly music knowledgeable staff in the store. I earned some cred and envy from them when I told them about my motorcycle trip and my ultimate destination, the Ponderosa Stomp. I knew I had found my community when finally I met people who were familiar with it. In fact, post Hurricane Katrina, the Stomp was relocated the following year to the Gibson Guitar factory in Memphis.
When I said I would like to see Beale Street that night and that I had not yet obtained lodging, they turned me on to a little secret they share only with friends. Normally anything on or close to Beale Street are fancy tourist trap hotels which even back in 2009 were running well over $150 a night for a single. They told me about a little known Motel 6 hidden away in a small industrial park not more than a half mile from Beale Street that was still relatively safe.
Even though I could have talked music with my new friends half the night, I could see that my hosts were wanting to finish closing down so they could go home. However I just could not resist the opportunity that presented itself and had to press my luck with a final request. I mean, how often does one get the chance to ask some of the most knowledgeable music heads in a town like Memphis for a recommendation as to the best live music show on a Sunday night?
As I recall I don’t think they even had to consult the local music weekly or hesitate before recommending an excellent young trio called City Champs that do a regular early show on Sundays at a hip music café and bar called the HiTone.
I thanked the staff at Stax again profusely and headed straight for the Motel 6 located on the edge of the hospital district where I booked a room from an incredibly helpful motel clerk named Edward for under $50.00! Since I did not have a laptop on my trip, I was relying on the places I was staying to have a business center with access to computers and the internet. Obviously this was not going to be possible at a Motel 6 so as I was asking Edward for directions to the HiTone he suggested a Kinkos near there where I can rent time on a computer and get my daily travel blog written and posted. Problem solved.
Edward hands me the key to my room and I move my bike to in front of my room door and begin to take the saddle bags off my bike. It was at this point when I was introduced to a phenomena, that in all my travels, I found to be uniquely Memphian. In the less than 24 hour period I was in Memphis, I must have handed out at least thirty dollars to seven different panhandlers only turning down one person because he approached me while I was writing this post. It wasn’t so much the panhandling, you encounter that almost everywhere, the unique thing was they all said the same thing. I know this will sound terrible, but I swear to God its the honest truth, they all said: "I need to buy chicken".
As I was kneeling down unfastening my saddle bags, a large shadow enveloped me causing me to look up only to see a very large African American woman who, based upon how she was dressed and her proximity to my room, I mistook for a member of the motel housekeeping staff. She was holding a Tupperware tub of peeled oranges and as she was eating one of her orange slices she made her pitch for money so she could buy some chicken.
Thinking I was being generous and not wanting to spoil the good karma I had so far in Memphis, I pulled three dollars out of my pocket and handed it to the woman expecting a pleasant “thank you”. Instead, the woman seemed almost insulted, emphatically telling me she needed $7.99 for her chicken. Not $2.00. Not$5.00. Not $8.00, mind you but $7.99. I told I had limited funds for my trip and $3.00 was all I could spare and just hoped she wouldn't sit on me. The song “Memphis Women and Fried Chicken” had a completely new significance now.
After unloading my bike I took a quick shower and headed out around 5:30 P.M. for the Kinkos to make a quick post to my travel blog. Parking my bike out front, I go inside and order some computer time. I am then directed to the back of the store where they had it subdivided into little booths each containing a desktop with internet access.
As I sat in the back of the Kinkos, in a booth totally out of sight, typing away the days activities so far, I am approached by a scruffy looking middle aged black man. “Excuse me sir” he says “Can I trouble you for some money to buy me some chicken”. Perhaps I was annoyed that he interrupted my train of thought as I was writing or maybe it was finally beginning to dawn on me that my Minnesota plate was making me a mark to the locals but I waved him off saying “no, man”. (I noticed he did not approach anyone else in the Kinkos and it was not hard to associate the sun and wind burned guy in motorcycle apparel with the bike out front.)
I wrap up my blogging at Kinkos and make the quick ride over to the HiTone. Talk about a great hole in the wall and my God, the musicians in this band were monsters. City Champs are Joe Revisto on guitar, George Sluppick in the pork pie hat on drums and what appeared to be the leader, Al Gamble on the mighty organ. Don't let the fresh looks of these cats fool you, they are incredible musicians, easily the best in any town in the country perhaps except, Austin, Memphis, New Orleans and New York, where they would still be ranked among the best. The final two songs of the night were an awe inspiring version of Ray Charles' "I'm Busted" and a tour de force "Poppa" that had the whole house on fire.
Well I've got to run cuz it's about 8:30 PM and I'm headed for Beale Street. That's in Memphis, Esmond!
It was at this point when I had one of those near misses with death that haunts all motorcycle riders. I had just left the HiTone thoroughly relaxed from listening to good music and with a warm glow from quaffing a couple of beers. I was stopped for a light just a couple blocks from the bar and let my mind wander. As I became impatient waiting for the semaphore to turn green and with my mind focused on remembering the route back to my motel and my night on Beal Street that lay ahead, I revved my throttle and took off as soon as the light changed to green. Nearly a fatal mistake! Luckily I have good peripheral vision and caught the blur out of my right eye of a speeding motorist who miscalculated and was running the solid red light in his direction. I locked up both my front and rear brakes and skidded to an abrupt stop barely avoiding laying the bike done. The speeding car whizzed past me with only a couple of inches to spare.
Picking up where I left off, I headed back to my motel on the edge of the hospital district and stopped in to see Edward the clerk, who made my stay in Memphis so enjoyable providing me with directions, calling ahead to the club and giving me a recommendation to the best restaurant on Beale Street, the Blues City Cafe. Following Edward's directions, it was a short hop down Linden Street to Fourth Avenue, where the arena is that the Grizzlies play at. Funny thing, I never saw one Grizzly the whole time I was in Memphis.
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