John and I like to get the most out of every opportunity. Today, however, we were going to have to make a choice. The boat wasn’t supposed to dock until noon, just when our excursion started. That meant that we couldn’t do the hop on hop off bus as we’d been doing other days. I thought I might rather see the Greenville Writers History Museum (complete with Shelby Foote and Walker Percy), and the Hebrew Union Temple rather than what was scheduled by bus, but John decided we shouldn’t change the plan.
When the ship docked early, John and I grabbed our cameras and headed for the gangplank hoping to walk the bus route and have the complete experience. Indeed, we were the first off the ship, ready to walk around the town and soak up all the local charm. Sadly, the town had a lot of “former charm.” We walked down weedy sidewalks connected to weedy lawns, attached to ramshackle homes. Greenville was a poor and deserted little berg. Down on Main Street, we found the tourist landmarks (all marvelous), but could only peek in the windows. Despite the fact that this was Saturday morning, nothing was open. We heard later that when the tour buses started at noon all the landmarks including Temple with the gift shop selling “Shalom y’all” tee shirts, the EE. Bass Cultural Arts Center with the carousel horses and the literary museum with a tiny display of first editions opened.
We missed all of that to be on another bus heading for Indianola, Mississippi where the great B.B. King got his start. The museum there was our excursion of the day, a humble brick building until we stepped foot inside. We were greeted with live music from two gospel singers who traded lead and backup, one playing trombone, the other playing tambourine. It was a lot of fun! Then came the museum tour which was one of the best we’ve seen all trip. Just like the National WWII Museum, the BB King Museum had video histories with interviews and photos, lots of beautifully displayed artifacts, and the whole rags-to-riches story of Riley B. King. The story shows how tough the South was then and how much difference the beginnings of the first African American radio station made to a hardworking musician’s ambition. WDIA was where King got the reputation of being a “blues boy” which created his nickname B.B. There were a lot of good people in his life and his religious upbringing had taught him to do the right thing—mostly. (No talk of his love life, however.) The live music followed us to a catfish lunch with slaw and fries, and talk about another local delicacy, hot tamales!
On the way back, we stopped by The Ebony Club to take pictures. Then back to the boat for “all aboard.” I stopped into the Grand Saloon show of Broadway musicals— just wonderful. Everything from Chicago to Cats… At dinner, we all loved Judge Harley’s story about being served too much gin in a New Orleans bar (many years ago) and drinking it all before deciding that he needed to see the church down the road. When he stood up, he realized that he really had had too much and was so grateful that he was far from home and that no one would notice him staggering down the road. Just outside the bar, as the world was spinning and he was deciding which way to go, he heard a happy cry, “Harvey!” It was his parents’ friends, greeting him with all kinds of glee to which he could only respond, “Pshplybth!” More questions. “Bspleeth.” And where are you staying, “The Respesth.” They looked surprised, then nodded and went on their way. He braced himself against the building until they were out of sight but expected a great commotion when he returned home. Luckily, nothing was ever said. Apparently, Southern gentility extends to judges. Good night.