Women Who Don't Celebrate Holidays

 Wayne LaPierre and the NRA are big fans of the idea that a "good guy with a gun" is all you need to solve the problem of "bad guys with guns."  They believe in it so much that they plaster it all over their social media every time it works.  

That's the problem; every time it works is between one and two percent of all the gun violence in the nation.  One or two percent make their evidence in this argument almost anecdotal.  While it does work at some level, their strategy simply isn't solving the problem.

Usually, their social media post will go like this: Larry Smith takes out Rico Warez with the AK47 he kept in the back of his truck in case he wanted to go deer hunting.  Their posts are filled to the brim with racial dog whistles. Then 500 middle-aged men will comment how great it is to be an American and FU Brandon!  

Problems like gun violence amplify problems with economic disparity.  The darker and the poorer you are, the more likely you are to be the victim of gun violence.

Going to the grocery today, I was struck by what a terrible job we do of governing the people who live here.  Morgan Place is so filled with potholes you can't navigate it with a normal vehicle.  Inside the grocery, the women at the deli counter were talking.  I suppose the topic before I walked up was why they're working today (July 4).  One of them said she didn't mind working on the fourth because that's when her cousin got shot, and her family doesn't celebrate it, and the other woman said she felt the same about Christmas because that's when her daddy got shot.  

Two women, Americans both Mississippians and Jacksonians, laid out a testimony before me of what a horrible job we've done of governing the world they live in.  By "we," I mean me too!  There certainly have been thousands of times when I could have done more, said more, and tried more to make things better but didn't.  

Our city has an administration that was elected on the premise that they could and would do something about economic disparity, but they've done such a shit job at maintaining the basic functions of a city that they've actually made the effects of economic disparity much worse.  Our state has a decidedly conservative legislature and administration, by word, absolutely devoted to providing security to its citizens but failing utterly for these two women.  Both ends of the political spectrum made promises to help these women, and both failed.  Their lives are bad and getting worse.  

I think we have to admit that conservative gun policies are a failure.  I think we also have to admit that liberal policing policies are also a failure.  I think we have to go back to the drawing board and re-evaluate everything we're doing and look for solutions to the problem rather than ways to protect our empire of ideas.  

It's not fair that these women have to work on July fourth while I get to fuck around and do what I want.  It's also not fair that in one of the world's most advanced countries, we can't keep that woman's father safe on Christmas Eve or the other woman's cousin safe on the Fourth of July.

Lee and Agamemnon

 In Lee: The Last Years, Flood quotes one of the "KA Five" as saying of Lee that "We likened him unto Agamemnon."  I always found that strange because things didn't end well for Agamemnon.

For a white Southerner, college-educated in the nineteenth century, it's not at all surprising that they read and studied the Illiad.  Agamemnon, drawing the Greeks together for this great cultural and political, and military adventure, probably did remind him of his service under Lee, both as a soldier and as a student.  

Apparently, whoever taught Greek literature, at Washington College, after the war, didn't include the Orestian Trilogy in their lessons.  Agamemnon's life may have been the origin of the Greek State, but his death was the origin of Greek justice.  Their professor only told them half the story.

Unlike Robert E Lee, who I'm absolutely certain was real, I'm not at all convinced that Agamemnon was ever a real person.  If he was, I can't imagine his real story matching up to the myth at all.  That's not what myths are for.  

Myths create stories that explain societies.  Sometimes they build up over many years, and disparate stories are combined and remade to fit the narrative the culture builds.

Every culture needs two creation stories.  The first is a metaphysical story.  The earth was a woman, and the sky was her husband.  The gods came as horses rising from the foam of the sea.  The Greek stories of metaphysical creation are fascinating and beautiful.  

They also need a myth about their political creation.  In Judaic culture, that's Joseph and Abraham, and Moses.  These are stories about what sets our people apart from other people.  They are vital in creating a cultural identity.  For the Greeks, the Illiad serves this purpose.  The Greek culture created itself with a story about defeating Troy, fighting over their ideas about the honor of a woman.

There are other very important myths, though.  Myths about where our cultural values come from.  In the bible, you have stories about Cain and Abel sewing the seeds of ideas about justice.  That's what the death of Agamemnon and his son's quest for redemption does for the Greeks.  It creates and describes in them the idea of Justice and just redemption.

It's entirely possible that the myth about Agamamemnon's life and Agamemnon's death was originally two entirely different people that were merged together into one story.  I think that happened a lot.  

Lee's political campaign might have created the political culture of the South, even though he lost the war, but there's been a much longer struggle for justice to come out of the Civil War, one that we're still fighting today.  I can't really say that Lee was part of that battle.  His purpose after the war was to get these boys, who had been his soldiers, prepared to be productive citizens again.  The question of Justice in the South would not be answered in their generation.  I'm very much starting to doubt that it will be answered in mine.

Education is a funny thing.  You can't ever really fit a complete understanding of any subject into any one lifetime, even if what you're trying to understand happened thousands of years ago.  Whoever taught the KA five about the Illiad didn't mention what happened to Agamemnon when he got home.  That was a pretty serious omission. 

 

Available at Amazon

Mississippi Airplanes

 For guys in my dad’s generation, for those who were also from here, there wasn’t much more impressive than an airplane.  Some, like his cousin Ben, went for sailboats instead.  Sailing has the advantage that you don’t fall to your death if the wind goes out of your sails, but you may end up shark food, so it’s a trade-off.

Part of this phenomenon might have been driven by wanting to impress people that there was something more to them than just another country boy, and a machine that can actually fly is a pretty good way to do just that.  In some cases, it was a thing that their parents had only read about.  It’s hard to imagine what that would be like today.  I guess my father never dreamed of such a thing as a submersible that went to the Titanic, so if I got one, it’d be impressive to him, although apparently ill-advised.

Bob Neblett was the first weatherman in Mississippi on the first television station in Mississippi.  He was a weatherman because he was also one of Mississippi’s first private pilots.  Besides doing the news, he was in charge of Mississippi’s only airport, Hawkin’s Field, out by the zoo.  Today, pilots check their phones for weather reports before going out.  Neblett didn’t have that available to him, and NOAH didn’t send out weather reports on the wire, so he learned basic meteorology himself.  When WJTV went on the air, Bob was the only choice.  He also sold ice cream and introduced Mississippians to Reddy Kilowatt.

Serving in the ROTC, my dad wanted very much to be a pilot.  He was in ROTC, so when he went into the service, he would be an officer.  His father insisted.  He was completely ready to fight the Nazis in World War II, but it ended before he graduated, so he served in Korea.  The airforce said he was too tall for a pilot, but he could be an engineer, so they sent him to school to learn this fancy new thing they had called “radar,” and he spent his entire military career listening for Russians flying over the border into West Berlin, and learning the specs of every aircraft on the base.

Most of Dad’s friends were as plane obsessed as he was.  When Brum Day ascended at Trustmark, Trustmark got an airplane.  My uncle Boyd loved trains.  He was part owner of a railroad in North Mississippi for a while, and Missco had a sleeper car they could attach to the City of New Orleans for trips to Chicago and beyond.  When my dad took over, the sleeper car was replaced by a Beechcraft King turboprop airplane.  The first of three, each one a seat or two bigger than the last.  His last aircraft had previously belonged to Roy Clark, the singer, who traded it for a jet.

There are scary moments with airplanes.  The Missco plane was hit by lightning twice and by geese several times.  Ben Puckett, one of his best friends, was flying out of Hilton Head when they crashed and killed six passengers, including Roger Stribling.  Ben had a broken back, and it took him months to recover.  One of Roger’s daughters was in my class.  The idea that this could have been my family was very clear to me.

Not rated to fly a craft the size of a Beechcraft King, my dad had to hire a pilot.  A retired WWII pilot named Tony Staples came highly recommended.  Tony was a square-shouldered, steel-eyed gent with shocking white hair.  

Tony was the most fastidious guy I ever knew.  He was so good at taking care of airplanes that each of our airplanes sold for more than what we paid for them.  While his voice had great power, he used a very controlled tone.  This is a trait often found among pilots whose lives depend on radio communications.

Tony, very conspicuously, wore a gold Mason’s ring.  From what I understand, he never missed a meeting.  He talked to me about it a few times but never pressured me to join.  I was interested because there were several Freemasons in my family, but never joined.

One of my favorite stories about Tony is that once, we were stopped at a small airport for fuel, and inside the fuel center were four young men wearing denim and t-shirts but with their faces painted in elaborate designs.  We assumed they were clowns and avoided them.  Tony never met a stranger and struck up a conversation with the boys and came back reporting that they were a band, and their gimmick was that they never appeared without their makeup.  He even bought one of their albums.  Showing me the album, I could see the artwork of the same four boys in makeup and the words “KISS” on top.  I always heard they did pretty well after that meeting.  

When my dad died, the man who took over his position hated flying, so it was clear the days of our airplane were numbered.  They were having a pretty terrible year and hoped this infusion of cash would improve the bottom line.  Tony had retired, but the new pilot passed me in the hall.  “They’re selling your daddy’s airplane.”  He said.  The comment was more potent coming from him because it meant he was out of a job.  “Things are changing,” I said.  Things are really changing.

Moving Things - Moving Me

 Feist-dog got me up at five a.m.  The sun's still not out.  My little round ball Alexa alarm doesn't go off until six, so I don't know what his hurry is.

This week is preparation for the big move.  I meet the movers on Wednesday.  Some stuff I'm going to have to part with.  One is my dad's desk.  I've been using it as a desk for a while, but it was improperly stored after his death and got really badly warped.  It's also eight feet long.  As he was in the business of selling desks, I think Dad wanted something he could show off to people as an indication of what they might expect from us, plus I think our manufacturers had an expectation that he would showcase some of their more impressive wares.  

My dad liked everything modern.  Especially furniture and architecture.  He even grew his sideburns out for a while, and most of his lapels could double as a glider.  Being Mississippi's only Herman Miller dealer for a long time, most of his office set was Herman Miller, including the famous Eames Chair and Cricket Table.  

Since I still have mobility issues, I want to have safety rails installed in the bathroom.  I thought that'd be crazy expensive and complicated, but Lowes installs them for $85 each.  I already have an adjustable bed, so that's about all the accommodations I'll need.

I'm pretty relaxed about it now, but I'm sure as the time gets closer, I'll freak out.  Some of my theater friends have agreed to help hang my art.  That's probably the best I can do since they've done it to about a hundred of Brent's sets.  

There are two really important events at Millsaps this week.  The first is a presentation about Millsaps, Tougaloo, and the Civil Rights Movement Tuesday at 1:00 at the Christian Center.  Speakers include Jeanne Middleton, TW Lewis, and Ed King.  Like myself, Ed has been having a mystery element with his leg and may attend by Zoom.  All three of these people had a pretty important role in several levels of integrating Jackson, from the sit-ins to the integration of the churches and the ultimate integration of Millsaps and lastly the public schools.  I'm proud to say that Millsaps and Galloway led the way in these movements, and I'm ashamed to say we didn't do it before the mid-sixties.

We did this before in 2010 when Rob Pearigen was new at Millsaps.  The panel was then Jon Meacham, Governor William Winter, Jerry Mitchell, Jeanne Luckett, and Dr. Leslie McLemore.  There's a chance some of these will attend the lecture Tuesday.  Jerry Mitchell now has his offices at Millsaps, and Jeanne Luckett gets around to more stuff than I do.  Sadly, Governor Winter is no longer with us.  

This might be Rob's last event as president of Millsaps.  He and Phoebe attended Galloway yesterday.  Cary mentioned him in his sermon but assured us we'd see Rob again when he comes to visit Phoebe, who we have no intention of letting go.  That's not entirely wrong.  Losing Phoebe is gonna cost, Jackson.  She's been very involved in the years they've been here, and I think it's fitting that she'll be moving back to Sewanee after attending one last International Ballet Competition.

Later, at 5:00, we'll meet again at Fondren Guitars for the second session of the Millsaps Ted Lasso talks about effective management.  The presenter is LeAnne Brewer, who heads up our executive education effort.  LeAnne was a student when I was a much better student, apparently.  She has remarkable energy and insight, so I'm looking forward to this.  Where I'm headed, this little cluster of businesses will probably be where you can find me most nights.  They have whiskey next door.  That should do.

I think the operational plan for the next two weeks will be to mask my anxiety about moving with false enthusiasm.  That usually works.  I simply have to take the next step, though.  I've accomplished all I can here, and I'm worried that I'll regress if I stay.  I have to learn to maintain my diet and exercise on my own.  I've done both before.  I tend to slip into really bad habits (mostly fast food) when I don't maintain my mood, so going to have to watch that.

You'll notice changes to the blog.  I'm trying to make it look more professional since I'm trying to go out into the world as an actual writer, not just a guy who scribbles his thoughts.  

My wake-up alarm still hasn't gone off.  Probably the greatest thing I ever did for myself was when I learned to touch type.  Now I can type much, much faster than I can read, meaning I can do about a thousand words an hour.  Not too bad for a dyslexic kid.   It's also a pretty good indication of just how much my mind races when I'm alone and when I'm not alone.  The way my mind works has always been a real irritation to the women in my life, starting with my mother.  I'm pretty satisfied with it, but it can make it difficult to have a conversation with me sometimes.

History Is Lunch: Robert McElvaine, “How 1964 Still Shapes Us”

Shrimp and Grits

 1985.  Ruben Anderson is appointed to the Mississippi State Supreme Court.  My dad decided to have a dinner party in his honor.  My dad was making a point.  He probably thought his points were subtle, but they never were.  There were men in Mississippi who might make a face at having a black man on the State Supreme court, and my dad wanted them to know his opinion of their opinion.  

Besides Judge Anderson and his remarkable wife, the guest list was the regular suspects, Brum Day, Rowan Taylor, Charlie Deaton, and added in George Hughes, Bill Goodman, and of course, everyone's respective spouses or public girlfriends.  A lot of times, I was more pleased to see the spouses and girlfriends than the men themselves.

Daddy was making a point.  His side of the Capitol Street Gang approved of Judge Anderson, and he didn't care who had other opinions.  Not just approval of Judge Anderson, although he's a genuinely remarkable man, but approval of having black men in positions of power in Jackson, Mississippi.

The guts and the details of the dinner party fell to my mom.  She was a self-taught cook and a great one.  Her regular co-conspirators were Mrs. Kroeze, Mrs. Lewis, Mrs. Flood, Mrs. Bass, and my Aunt Linda.   Jane Lewis was the best baker I've ever met.  They told me it was a rare disease that took her from us, but several other dear Mississippians died of the same condition, so maybe it wasn't all that rare after all.  That disease stole vital human beings from me.  That makes it my enemy.

Mother was a very experimental cook, which I appreciated, but my siblings often had another opinion.  Sometimes her menus were unconventional.  Gazpacho, different forms of liver and oysters, and calf's tongue were served at family dinners but not well received.

"What are you serving?"  I asked as she was cutting onions.

"Shrimp and Grits," she said.  I could see the shrimp in the sink where she de-veined them.  She bought them from a man coming up from Biloxi every week and parked his truck with ice chests full of fresh seafood at Deville Plaza.  Every woman in town made occasional trips to meet him and cut a deal. 

"Mother, this man is a judge; you cannot serve grits for supper."  I was adamant.

She ignored my opinion, as she often would.  In this instance, she was correct.  This was a few years before Bill Neal made shrimp and grits famous and Southern Cooking respectable.  If you've never heard of Bill Neal, I'll include a link to a video about him.  He's a remarkable man and responsible for many of the recipes you eat.

Years later, I asked her how she knew ten years before anyone else that Shrimp and Grits were a thing.  She said she got the recipe out of Southern Living, but I've looked, and there weren't any Shrimp and Grits recipes in Southern Living that year.  Further research told me that Galatoire's in New Orleans had occasionally been serving Shrimp and Grits since the seventies.  Her recipe was similar to that.  Either she had it there, or one of her co-conspirators had it there.

The best Shrimp and Grits I've ever had was at City Grocery in Oxford.  Their recipe was similar to Bill Neal's but had a little extra push to it.  By now, if you're from here, you've had the dish somewhere unless you were kosher or suffered a shellfish allergy.  

For me, Shrimp and Grits mean a time when my mother was right, and I was wrong.  They represent a day when my Daddy wanted to make a blunt point, and my mom made it graceful.  Food isn't just food.  It's art, and it's culture, and sometimes it's memory.

A video about Bill Neal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeteYtkVB6Y

The Origin of Barbeque Sauce

 While the technique of pit cooking is pretty much universal, nearly every food historian posits that the origin of Barbeque is the Caribbean and a combination of native and African influences during the colonial period.  I'm willing to accept that.  The word itself is Spanish if that tells you anything.  If you look at how Barbeque spread and where it's distributed, even today, a Caribbean origin is the most likely.  Considering how many Southern enslaved people came from or through the Caribbean, it kind of seals the deal.

What about Barbeque Sauce, though?  Traditional food history says that Jamaican Jerk Sauce is the most likely origin of Barbeque sauce, which makes sense, but here's my issue:  the principal ingredients of Barbecue Sauce are tomatoes, chilis, and some form of acid.  Traditionally, the acid is vinegar, but let's assume that the acid might originally have been citrus, maybe limes, but what about a pre-Columbian acid, like passionfruit juice?      

Here's what I'm getting at: all of the main Barbeque sauce ingredients are pre-Columbian and originate in central and south America, not the Caribbean.  I don't believe that Mole sauce is colonial in origin, the name might be, but I refuse to believe it was the first time somebody used a molcajete to grind chiles into a sauce.  

Here's my theory, and I'm not a professional, so don't beat me up.  If you want a professional opinion, ask George Bey or David Woodward.  I think Barbeque Sauce is much older than Carribian Barbacoa.  I think the people pit cooking in the Carribian already knew of the sauce.  They inherited it from Central and South American ancient sources and had been putting it on meat for generations.  If you look at the development of chiles and tomatoes and ceviche and the molcajete, you have all the essential ingredients of Barbeque sauce, and they all pre-date Columbus by thousands of years.  Surely they weren't waiting for the arrival of Europeans to put it all together.  

Mississippi Art The Wolfes and the Lazy Log Lodge

This is a story about memory, and family, and art.  This is a story about Mississippi and happiness and a story about love.

Yesterday my sister sent me a text message that she found a painting and wanted to know if it was of the Raymond Lodge; and included a photo of it.  Immediately I confirmed that it was indeed a painting of the Raymond Lodge and that it had hung in our grandmother's house for many years.  

I believed it was painted by Jackson artist BeBe Wolfe.  My sister texted back a photo of the signature, and it was painted not by BeBe Wolfe but by her mom, Mildred.  All this opened the most beautiful treasury of memories I had stored away, not forgotten but not visited in a long time.

The Raymond Lodge Painting
As Sent By My Sister

The lodge was the Lazy Log Lodge, about five miles east of Raymond, Mississippi.  After World War I, a retired colonel built it, and my uncle Boyd bought it in the fifties.  It was a little over thirty-five acres, with a five-acre lake, and when he bought it, there was the log constructed main house, a caretaker's house, a horse barn, a sheep barn, and a pavilion.  

It was the site of many company and family gatherings.  I learned to ride a horse there and bait a hook there.  I told and heard many ghost stories there, and in the days when I barely got to see my dad because his career was so busy, I could spend time with him there. 

It had a massive brick barbeque that Kelly, the caretaker, once used to cook enough hamburgers to feed the entire St. Andrews eighth and ninth grade.  Some people got two!

Besides the main house being made of logs, I don't know why it was called "lazy log."  The colonel built the house himself with trees cut from the land and four sandstone fireplaces, made from the same sandstone quarried in Hinds County and used at the Jackson Zoo and Smith and Poindexter parks.

The horse barn burned down in the sixties, leaving only a mule cart with a broken axel, and the horses were moved to the sheep barn under the levee.  The pavilion was storm-damaged in the seventies and had to be torn down.  The whole farm was sold in the eighties to finance a project my dad was working on.  

The house and the pavilion were on a hill looking over the lake.  Mrs. Wolfe must have been sitting in the pavilion when she made the painting.  She would have been shaded, but her subject bathed in sunlight.  By the colors, it must have been fall.  Although I wasn't there that day, I can clearly see it in my mind.  I tried to find a photo I'd seen of her painting before to include here, but I couldn't find it.  Maybe it was in a book.  I'll keep looking.

My Grandparents were big fans of the Wolfe's, both from their studio work and their involvement in Millsaps.  I don't know exactly how the painting came to be.  Either they commissioned it from her, or she painted it as a gift.  I've seen other landscapes she made, but I didn't recognize the locations.  From the vantage point of the hill, she couldn't see the levee that created the lake, only the center part of it before smaller hills blocked the rest. 

Across the water in the painting is a medium-sized weeping willow tree.  There were four weeping willow trees around the lake, planted as saplings by the colonel himself.  By the time my dad sold the place, they were massive.  There was pretty good fishing under that willow tree, and it was a great place to water your horse.  One time my Uncle John said we could walk our horses all the way across the lake from there to the other side, and we did!  I was in trouble for getting my pants wet in the lake water, but boy, was it fun.

Veterans of the fabled Dixie Art Colony, Mildred, and Karl Wolfe, settled in Jackson, Mississippi, after World War II.  They started a studio and became a part of the fabric of central Mississippi and especially Millsaps College.  Some years they were the entire art department at Millsaps.  Karl became one of the most famous portrait artists in the state of Mississippi.  Mr. Wolfe's portrait of my uncle Boyd Campbell hung at Mississippi School Supply for many years and now hangs in Millsaps College.  Boyd also had a portrait done by Marie Hull, which was in my mom's house for many years, then my house, and now hangs in my sister's house.  My uncle had the hat trick of Mississippi portrait artists of the 1950s.

For many years, Karl's work overshadowed his wife, but by the 1980s, Mildred became more appreciated for her own work.  Both tended toward impressionism, but I always thought she did more than he.  I can't say that I prefer her paintings to his, but it's close.  She also worked in every other medium I can think of, including Ceramics (which I guess she's the most famous for now) and glass.  

Mrs. Wolfe and my paternal grandmother were friends.  I believe they played bridge together.  I was never invited to those parties.  There was a cluster of little old ladies in Jackson determined to bring arts and letters to our community, and they held Mildred Wolfe and Eudora Welty as proof of Mississippi's worthiness.  Looking back on it now, I guess they got what they wanted.

My grandmother Campbell had some forty-five paintings by Mississippi artists; three were by Mildred Wolfe and possibly two dozen of her ceramic birds.  My sister and aunt have them all now, and they're in good hands.

Signature On
The Raymond Lodge Painting

According to the signature on the Raymond Lodge landscape, I was three years old when Mrs. Wolfe finished it.  My uncle Boyd never lived to see it, but he would have loved it.  I cannot remember a time before this painting existed.

Before my sister's house, the Raymond lodge painting hung in the hallway of my grandparent's St Ann Street house in Bellhaven.  Across from it was the doorway to my Aunt Evelyn's bedroom, which became the guest room.  Visiting them, I saw it there my entire young life.  A well-made painting accomplishes so many things, not the least of which invoking happy memories, which this one did for me.  

I want to thank my sister, my brother, my brother-in-law, BeBe, and Mildred Wolfe for bringing all these memories back to me.

For more information about The Wolfe Studio and Wolfe Porceline Birds please visit their WEBSITE.

Karl and Mildred Wolfe 1950s

Karl and Mildred Wolfe 1950s

Hull Portrait
Campbell-Cooke Home

Wolfe Portrait
Millsaps College

Deville Theater Adventures and Lessons

Technically, my first theater was the Lamar downtown because they had Disney movies.  The very first movie I can remember seeing was Toby Tyler, which I remember more for the painted walls and staircase in the lobby than anything else.  There was a scene in Toby Tyler where a monkey gets hold of a pistol and started acting up that scared the bejesus out of my little sister, who saw the rest of the movie from the crying room, while I sat in the big seats with my grandmother who we called Nanny.   We also saw Snowball Express and the revival of Dumbo there.

Besides the Lamar, the best source for movies when I was a kid was the Deville Cinema, off the recently constructed Interstate 55.  It was closer and newer.  It had a single screen and a capacity of six hundred kids.  Technically, it was close enough for me to ride my bike, but that involved crossing Ridgewood road, so I wasn't allowed to very often.

Deville had a summer Saturday matinee revival series.  For five dollars, a kid like me could see a movie with a coke and a red and white striped box of popcorn.  And, oh what movies they had:  Godzilla vs the Smog Monster, The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, The Mysterious Island, The War of the Gargantuas, Destroy All Monsters, Gorgo, King Kong Escapes, and more.  Every boy I knew would be there.  It's possible there were girls too, but I don't remember any.  In those days, girls who liked Godzilla were pretty rare.

Besides the matinees, they had some of the most important first-run movies of the seventies at the Deville.  I saw Star Wars there as many times as I could talk somebody into taking me.  Rocky played there for months, as well as Logan's Run and Westworld.  Johnny Kroeze was my most common co-conspirator in those days, and we saw pretty much everything that didn't have much girl stuff in it.  There was one girl in Star Wars.  That was enough.

The Exorcist played at the Deville.  I wasn't allowed to attend, but I remember the reports on the news and in the paper of the protests.  A movie about the devil in Jackson Mississippi in the seventies had no choice but to draw some heat.  I suspect the hullabaloo increased ticket sales by a factor of ten at least.

Many people from Jackson remember Deville for its Saturday night midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that ran through the seventies into the early eighties.  I was aware of it too.  I heard it was a gay musical making fun of science fiction and horror movies, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

I didn't know much about homosexuality in those days.  I heard a guy from my church lost his job when he got arrested for "loitering" at Smith Park.  I don't know if he was doing anything nefarious or actually just loitering, but anything involving Smith Park at night could get you in trouble.

There were a couple of times when I would pick my little sister up from United Methodist Youth Fellowship and get catcalls of "Hey!  We're over here!" from the interior of Smith Park.  They didn't seem all that dangerous, but I wasn't taking any chances.

In high school, I couldn't name one single person who admitted to being gay.  In college, I knew precisely one.  Andrew Libby ended up teaching me a lot about that side of life.  He was my first gay ambassador.

Later in college, I met a girl who often got me into trouble.  Maybe more than one, but this one really had my number so I was doomed.  Deville had a one-weekend revival of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and she not only wanted to go, but she wanted me to go as well.  I won't say her name because she might be reading, but she was from the Delta and had green eyes, and had she asked me to put on a dress and go to a dog fight, I most likely would have.  That probably gave it away.

We packed up our little group to go, including her friend, whom I was equally taken with.  She had skin like alabaster and hair like obsidian and was slightly less likely to get me into compromising situations.  Slightly.  Who am I kidding?  She was just as bad.  Their powers combined, I was pretty much condemned to seeing the whole movie.

They had newspapers, and toast and rice and water guns ready for the performance.  I had a bad attitude and lots of doubts.

The lights went out, and the screen lit up with a pair of lips...

Michael Rennie was ill
The day the Earth stood still
But he told us where we stand
And Flash Gordon was there
In silver underwear
Claude Rains was The Invisible Man
Then something went wrong
For Fay Wray and King Kong
They got caught in a celluloid jam
Then at a deadly pace
It came from outer space...

Holy shit! 

 The scales fell from my eyes.  Gay or not, this was my people.  This was my tribe!  It would be another five or six years for me to learn that my beloved Fay Wray was a gay icon, but just the mention of her name made me open my heart a little bit and accept, not just a new movie, but a who new body of human beings.

Toward the end of the movie, Frankenfurter sings, "Whatever happened to Fay Wray?"  I knew the answer!  She was living in Beverly Hills with her last husband, the surgeon.  Her son had a pretty famous music store there, and her daughter was in New York becoming a writer and teacher.

In the years to come, I would see Rocky Horror in something like twenty different theatres and live at least five times.  I owe it all to two little girls from Millsaps, who knew better what I liked than I did myself.

In the years that followed, multiplex movie theaters took over the business and The Deville faltered.  The last movie I ever saw there was The Nightmare Before Christmas, in 1993 with Jay Cooke.  I loved the movie and Jay was possibly the only person I knew who could have appreciated it like I did, but that was the swan song for the Deville.  

I do love single-screen theaters.  Jackson had some grand ones.  Except for the Capri, they're all gone now.  They hope to keep the Capri going by making it as much of a restaurant as a movie theater.  I hope fortune shines on them.

In the years that followed, the Deville became a pretty popular store for china and whatnot, and a nightclub after that.  It makes me a little sad to drive by it now.  So many memories.  So many movies.

Mississippi Famous Foods

One day, I want to develop this into a much fuller piece.  Here are some of my notes so far.  I'm gonna use ya'll to help me work out the kinks and give me some ideas.

Comeback Dressing

Comeback dressing was invented by Mr. Alexander Dennery at the Rotisserie Restaurant at five points in Jackson sometime in the '30s and '40s.  Both the Rotisserie and its successor Dennery's are closed now, so the reigning comeback champion is The Mayflower Cafe in Jackson, using a recipe by Mr. Kountouris.  Both Kountouris and Dennery were Greek immigrants, but Comeback Sauce is much closer to French remoulade sauce.   Put it on salads, fries, burgers, hell, just pour some on saltines.  Everybody in town has their version of Comeback now.  Besides the Mayflower, try Scrooge's, Hal and Mal's, Crechale's, and CS's.  

Hot Tamales

This was my dad's favorite.  So much has been written about Delta Hot Tamales I don't know what I can add.  I've never found a Delta Hot Tamale at a Mexican restaurant.  Look for somebody who serves them in coffee cans if possible.  They should come tied in bundles of three.  

Best Choices; Sollys in Vickburg, The Big Apple Inn in Jackson, and Doe's Eat Place in Greenville, but that's just the tip of an enormous iceberg.  There's some discussion about whether they should be wrapped in corn husks or parchment paper.  I like them both ways, but some insist the corn husks add something the paper doesn't.  

This part is controversial, but Hormel makes a decent canned hot tamale.  They're based in Minnesota, for God's sake, and I have no idea how they came to produce a Delta hot tamale, but they're not bad.  Serve warm with saltines just like regular tamales.  They're good in a hot tamale pie too.

Mississippi Mud Brownies and Mississippi Mud Pie

A 1927 recording of Bing Crosby with the line "beat your feet in the Mississippi mud" might be the origin of this dish.  There are two versions of this dish.  As best I can tell, the first is the Mississippi Mud Brownie which is a chocolate brownie topped with marshmallow and ganache.  It was in many cookbooks in the sixties and seventies.  The second is the Mississippi Mud Pie, which comes in a pie shell, often with a chocolate wafer crust, and replaces the marshmallow with vanilla ice cream.  Both versions are sinfully good.  

Biloxi Pressed Po-Boy

The Po-Boy (poor boy) may be a New Orleans invention, but the Biloxi version, which is pressed like a panini, is far superior.  Primos Northgate used to have one of the best I ever tried.  They would press it, then wrap it tightly in butcher paper which helped unify the sandwich. 

Pig Ear Slider and Red Hot Slider

Big Apple Inn, on Farish Street in Jackson, MS, is home to two uniquely Mississippi dishes that are reasonably famous now.  Pig Ear Sliders are actual pig ears, cooked in a pressure cooker until soft, then served on a slider bun with mustard.  At least try one before you turn your nose up.  Red Hots are Red Rose sausages by Magnolia meats stripped out of their casing, then cooked on a griddle and served on a slider bun with mustard.  

Fried Dill Pickles

It's possible fried dill pickles were invented in Arkansas.  I'll cede them that.  I insist they are far more plentiful in Mississippi, though, and the recipes are far better.  For my taste, the very best fried dill pickles in Mississippi come from Cock of the Walk on the Pearl River Reservoir (I don't use its official name) 

Kool-aid Pickles

This one really is Mississippi Specific.  Kool-aid Pickles are easy.  Take a regular jar of pickles and mix in a packet of cherry Kool-aid and some sugar.  Where to find them?  Gas stations and roadside stands in The Delta.  Don't turn up your nose.  You've had sweet pickles your whole life if you're from here. These are just red. 

Fried Catfish

You don't think fried catfish is Mississippi-specific? Fight me!  Yeah, they have catfish all over the South, and yeah, lots of people fry things, but Mississippi is the catfish king and always will be.  Best catfish in Mississippi?  Boy, I really am looking for a fight, huh?  Let's try Jerry's in Florence and Cock of the Walk on the Rez.  Your opinion may vary. 

Fried Buffalo

Often caught in the same waters as the catfish, the buffalo (Ictiobus cyprinellus) is prepared, dusted with cornmeal, and fried, just like a catfish.  Some people consider Buffalo a trash fish, and to try one you often have to go to an older, more run-down establishment.  Give them a try though.  They're tasty with flaky white flesh,   They don't clean as easily as catfish though, so beware of bones.  

Cheese Straws

I might get some blowback on this one.  Cheese wafers are made all over the South, but I insist that Cheese Straws made with a piping bag are a Mississippi creation (or at least perfected here).

Coke and Peanuts

I can't really claim this is a dish unique to Mississippi, but you've most likely seen it if you're from here.  It's just a bottle of cold Coke with a packet of salted peanuts dumped through the mouth of the bottle. You drink the Coke, then tilt the bottle back to get the peanuts.  The salt interacts with the coke, and the coke interacts with the peanuts, creating a profoundly southern synergy. 

Boiled Peanuts

I would love to claim boiled peanuts as a uniquely Mississippi dish, but they're found all over the deep south.  Peanuts originated in South America, then made their way to Africa, where they were called "goobers" or "pindars" and served boiled, then imported back to America via the slave trade.   The best source for boiled peanuts is roadside stands found all over the state in the summer.   

You might have heard that you can only make boiled peanuts using "green" (un-dried) peanuts, but truth be told, you can use the same dry raw peanuts you use for roasting, but soak them for 24 hours before boiling, just like you would dry red beans for red beans and rice, and they'll boil up just fine.  They freeze really well, and they're good for you!  Try making them with crab boil, lemons and MSG added to the brine.

State Fair Taffy

Malone's State Fair Taffy candy is based in Byram, Mississippi but sold at state fairs and carnivals all over the South.  It comes in one flavor: vanilla, and softens quickly in the microwave.  Off-season, you can get it from their website.

Mississippi Pot Roast

Slow cooker pot roast with pickled jalapenos and a packet of ranch dip mix. This dish is said to have originated with Mississippi State tailgate parties.

Mississippi State Cheese

In 1938, Mississippi State University Dairy Science Professor F.H. Herzer imported ten teakwood molds from Belgium to teach cheese production.  His Edam cheese soon developed a reputation for quality, and now they can barely keep up with demand (and often can't).  Mississippi State cheese is only sold at Mississippi State University, either through their website or from the campus store.

Hiney Ho Smoked Sausage

Produced by the Hinds Community college meatpacking department, you can only get it at the Raymond campus store in Porter Hall.  It's especially good with biscuits or on a hoagie roll with mustard.

Barq's Root Beer

Edward Charles Edmond Barq Sr. first bottled Barq's Root Beer in Biloxi, Mississippi, in 1897.

Cathead Vodka

I wanted a spirit, and this is a good one.  Also, their distillery on South Street was the original home of the Mississippi School Supply Company, where my dad once upset the world by hiring a black secretary and sitting her out front where people could see her.  

Inez Burger

Technically a chili burger with queso sauce and pickled jalapenos. The Inez Burger from CS's is much more than that if you're from here.  Get it with the cheese fries and give Inez a hug from me.

Slug Burger

Slug Burgers are indigenous to Corinth, MS, where they have an annual Slug Burger festival.  Slug Burgers use potato flakes or other fillers to extend the ground beef, then the patty is deep-fried and dressed simply with mustard and pickles on a bun.  

Primos Brownie (Fudge Squares)

I wanted to include a recipe from Pop Primos, but which one?  The caramel cake and the gingerbread men were contenders, but the Primos Chocolate Brownie is legendary.  

Pirouline Cookies

Pirouline Cookies might have a European flavor and sensibility, but they were invented in 1984 by Peter DeBeukelaer and produced in Madison, Mississippi. 

Pimento Cheese

I can't really posit that pimento cheese is a uniquely Mississippi dish.  I can say though that the best Pimento Cheese I ever had came from the Woodland Hills Jitney.  Some people make a vicious version using Mississippi State Cheese blended with cottage cheese too. 

Sliced Tomatos

This is another one that isn't unique to Mississippi, but is ubiquitous here.  The concept is simple.  A whole ripe heirloom or beefsteak tomato, cut in one-half inch slices (use a serrated knife) and served with salt, pepepper and a simple vinagrette or mayonase (dukes preferred)  Try a scoop of cottage cheese or pimento cheese for a Mississippi Caprese Salad.  

Pine-Sol

Ok, so this isn't food, but if you have a kitchen or a bathroom, you're familiar with Pine-sol.  Harry A. Cole of Jackson, Mississippi, invented Pine-sol in 1929.  In 1948 Dumas Milner acquired Magnolia Chemical Company producing Pine-sol, and in five years, they increased sales to twenty million bottles distributed in eleven countries.  In 1963, Milner sold Pine-Sol for $17 million, and production moved from Jackson, MS, to New Jersey.

What Is The Mississippi Delta

The good Lord made some people to heal us.  My new friend Jennifer gave me a copy of Delta Hot Tamales by Anne Martin.  Jennifer's mom runs Sollys in Vicksburg, so she knows a thing or two about Tamales.

You have to be careful with Delta girls.  They'll steal your heart, and you'll never get it back.  Lord knows, there are pieces of mine from Memphis to Natchez. I don't regret a minute of it.  Lightning can strike the same spot many, many times.

It begs the question, though, what exactly is "The Delta."   In season six, episode one of Andrew Zimmerman's Bizarre Foods about Delta cuisine, he covers Sollys in Vicksburg, but he also includes Jackson and reviews The Big Apple Inn and Walker's Drive-in.  Lord knows I love Big Apple Inn and Walkers, but is Jackson The Delta?  I never heard such, but The Food Network seems to think so.   

A geologist will tell you the Mississippi Alluvial Plain includes parts of Illinois, Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana.  Flooding the Mississippi River as it goes into the Gulf of Mexico creates it.  It only looks like a triangular delta when it gets to New Orleans.  Is New Orleans The Delta?

Fay Wray with Debbie Reynolds
Tammy and the Bachelor (1957)

You've probably heard that The Delta begins in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis and runs to Catfish Row in Vicksburg.  Sometimes, it's the duck-pond fountain in the Peabody to Under the Hill in Natchez.  These definitions have been used so long that I"m struggling to find out who said it first.  It's often attributed to Twain, but I'm not ready to plant my flag there just yet.  

Fay Wray once told me she made a movie about The Delta with Leslie Nielson set in Natchez, so as far as I'm concerned, Natchez is in The Delta.  I'll take Fay Wray's side on anything. The film was based on the book Tammy Out of Time, written by Cid Ricketts Sumner, a Millsaps Alumni, and produced the hit Tammy's In Love, sung by Debbie Reynolds.  

Why the Peabody Hotel, though?  Before cotton was king, The Delta primarily grew tobacco.  Cotton was easy to grow but difficult to process. Ely Whitney changed all that with his Cotton Gin.  Once Mississippi started growing cotton, they had to get it to market.  The river flows north to south, so all our cotton and tobacco went downstream to New Orleans for many years, with growers cashing in there and making their way home with the profits as best they could by the Natchez trace.  

When the steam engine came to the Mississippi,  up-river was as easy as down-river, so the Cotton Exchange in Memphis became the financial center of the Delta economy, with the Peabody just scant blocks away.  Planters traded their cotton for coupons at the Cotton Exchange and spent them at Beal Street and the Peabody.  Don't ask what they spent it on.

So, does cotton define The Delta?  My great-grandfather grew an awful lot of cotton and corn outside of Kosciusko in Hesterville.  Is Attala county The Delta?  Many farms in The Delta don't even grow cotton anymore; soybeans are easier on the soil and often more profitable. What about catfish and rice?  India and China grow almost twice as much cotton as the United States. Are they The Delta?

Maybe The Delta is political.  Despite being yellow-dog Democrat for many years, the Mississippi Delta was one of the most conservative places in the United States.  Florida passed them years ago, and now the Mississippi Gulf Coast is far more conservative than The Delta.  

What about culture?  If you go by country of origin, Mississippi Delta citizens include African, American Native, French, Spanish, English, Scottish,  Irish, and Italian.  Toward the end of the nineteenth and into the twentieth centuries, Jewish, Hispanic, Chinese, Indian, and East Asian peoples started populating The Delta.  Religiously, you'll find Catholics, Baptists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, and Methodists (united and independent), and don't forget about the Jewish, Muslim, Shinto, and Buddhist congregations.  

Shelby Foote is from Greenville, but some of the most famous writers about The Delta aren't even from there.  Eudora Welty is from Jackson, and William Faulkner is from New Albany. Is that The Delta?

If you're from here, you know many parts of Mississippi aren't The Delta if you're from here. There's The Coast, The Piney Woods, The Golden Triangle, and more.   But, If you're not from Mississippi, you probably think it's all Delta.

Maybe, The Delta is what you say it is.  Andrew Zimmerman and his producers seem to think so.  Try telling people not from here that Elvis was born in Lee County, not The Delta.    I don't want to start any arguments, and I'm not one to tell you how to think, but if you're from here, you really should have an opinion on this.

Flowers In The Ponder Heart

If you ever visited Eudora Welty's home, you'll know she loved gardening and flowers, so it's not surprising she often mentions them in her books.  

In her 1953 novella, The Ponder Heart, she mentions several varieties of flowers and plants well-known to Southern Gardners, including: 

• Railroad lilies (orange daylilies) (Hemerocallis fulva)
• Narcissus Nasturtiums (Tropaeolum majus)
• Red Nasturtium (Tropaeolum minus)
• Verbina (Verbena officinalis)
• Chinaberries (Melia azedarach)
• Althea (Hibiscus syriacus)
• Salvia (Salvia officinalis)
• Magnolia (Magnolia grandiflora)
• Etoile Rose (Etoile de Hollande)
• Fig Tree (Ficus carica 'Celeste')

These little touches really help create a mental image of the scenes she describes if you're from the South.  As I re-read her other works, I might make similar posts about them.  I suspect this aspect of her work has been covered many times before, but it will still be fun.   

Miss Eudora Tending Her Garden (1940s)

View Our Eudora Welty Collection