[Click on the pics to make them humongous.]
WHERE IT ALL BEGAN...
Another highlight of my trip was my visit to the Sun Records museum, where Sam Phillips discovered and recorded the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, Charlie Rich, Roy Orbison and of course, one young Elvis Aron Presley (who went to high school just a few blocks away). The original recording studio has been preserved and is still in use (U2 recorded "Angel Of Harlem" and "When Love Comes To Town" there for Rattle And Hum) along with many of the original instruments and other equipment, including this microphone 
that more than a few famous people have sung into. Our tour guide was quite knowledgeable, and told a great story about the recording of Johnny Cash’s "I Walk The Line". Seems the Grand Ole Opry had a stupid rule back in the day that to appear on their show, you could not use drums of any kind. So, The Man In Black circumvented that rule by slipping a dollar bill under the strings on the neck of his guitar. This made a rhythmic clicky sound as he simply strummed along while singing the song—ergo, Cash used cash to further his career! Just like with my visit to Motown’s studio in Detroit last September, it was a real treat and privilege to stand in the same room where all those legendary songs were recorded—tons of Rock ‘N’ Roll history went down here, and I strongly encourage a visit. Another A+ in my book…
"EARLY MORNING, APRIL 4..."
I briefly visited the Lorraine Motel/National Civil Rights Museum, site of the Martin Luther King assassination. There was some big event going on there Saturday, and it was a sea of people, so I stopped back by on Sunday morning before leaving town and took photos. They basically preserved the side of the hotel where the shooting took place (it actually remained in business until the early ‘80s) and attached the museum onto it, and even placed the two cars (or replicas, I’m not sure which) that were parked there to help recreate the scene during the shooting. Always neat to get the visual perspective of where famous events took place.BEALE-IN’ ALRIGHT…
And then there was Beale Street. Plenty to eat, plenty to drink, plenty of music, plenty of people, plenty of Elvis impersonators, but NO reptiles, by golly! Reptiles just don’t get no love these days...For reasons unknown to me, I knew nothing about Beale Street when I first visited Memphis as an adult in 1996, but I brought myself up to speed this time around. I ate and drank and ate some more and drank some more and did a lot of people watching. For whatever it’s worth—I don’t think I’ve ever seen a higher concentration of amateur-looking tattoos on people in one place before. I’m hardly an expert on (let alone a proponent of) body art, but I know cheap tattoos when I see them. Geez Louise, if you just have to deface your body with graffiti, get a good tattoo instead of something that looks like it was drawn by Mr. Magoo! But, I digress…
Beale Street is kinda like Kansas City’s Westport and St. Louis’ LaClede’s Landing combined (on steroids). Public drunkenness is highly encouraged here, as they cordon off the streets to car traffic at night and most of the bars have handy open walk-up windows where you can order up a "Big-Ass Beer" without even having to go inside. Many of them had live music that filtered out into the street, and it was a rather neat cacophony of sound. There are also numerous record and gift shops along the way, and eateries that will satisfy most anyone’s appetite except Vegans. I had lunch at The Pig ("Pork With An Attitude") and their BBQ brisket wasn’t too shabby, although it was a tad overpriced, but that was the general rule everywhere I ate. I checked out Dyer’s Famous (deep-fried) Burgers (since 1912!) for dinner, and they were delightfully greasy, alright. And for detox purposes at the end of the night, I got a rack of ribs at another BBQ place whose name escapes me now ("Superior"-something, I think), and they weren’t too shabby either. Not too hard to figure out why Beale Street is a popular destination for folks.
There may have been no reptiles, but there actually were goats on the premises! I have no earthly idea why, but in between one of the bars and the open-air courtyard area of another bar sits this fenced-in mini-barnyard where this pair of goats resides. I thought I’d seen everything until I got a load of their little palatial layout, complete with a one-of-a-kind goat pagoda. The white goat, who reminded me of Julio’s buddy Chico on "Sanford & Son", was particularly amusing as he started humping on something at the top of the pagoda. Goats are none too subtle about defecating, either—they take a dump while they walk, just like horses. I did say that this trip was highly educational, didn't I?About the only downside to Beale Street is there are way too many panhandlers to deal with. This one ugly bitch actually tried to grab my chest and I had to shove her away. I hate to seem like a heartless bastard, but I take a real dim view of these mongrels. Most of them are drug addicts and losers anyway, and there are legitimate places they can go for help, but they won’t because booze and drugs aren’t allowed in the homeless shelters. I also feel like I have the right to enjoy myself in public places without being hassled. To their credit, Memphis has signs all over downtown discouraging people from giving to panhandlers, but they don’t seem to help much.
Tales from the Nashville portion of my trip are forthcoming soon...
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