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Thursday, June 23, 2016

Parchman Prisoners Ponder and Paint

Icarus and His Sons by Michael Orell
9"-X-17"
Ink and Crayon

One of the artist's themes is that that crime (going too far) is passed down from generation to generation and it is all but impossible the break the cycle.
$200
As many of you may already know, I have a writer friend from Oxford, Mississippi, who teaches writing to prisoners at Parchman Prison.  Louis Bourgeois, whose own memoir — The Gar Diaries — was nominated for the National Book Award, teaches poetry, fiction and memoir to the inmates.  He and his class have just released their second collection, 

Unit 30: New Writings from Parchman Farm.  Click on the link to purchase at Amazon.  The book is very good.  It definitely gives one a glimpse of the humanity behind the inmate, and not only helps the reader to understand, but also helps the inmate get insight into his own life and behavior.  I highly recommend it.




One of Louis's students, Michael Orell is a very talented, self-taught artist.  He'd like to get an art program at the prison and toward that end, is selling some of his work.  The money will go toward the art program.  Louis Bourgeois is trying to help that dream come true and has agreed to offer the artwork for sale through his publishing company, VOX Press.

If you're interested in any of these works, please make payment to:

VOX Press
P.O. Box 2954
Oxford, MS 38655


More artwork below
Gods
by Michael Orell
9"-X-17"
Ink and Crayon
$100

This piece reflects Orell's fascination with pagan mythology

Totem
by Michael Orell

9"-X-17"
Ink and Crayon
$100

This painting demonstrates how Christianity destroyed the beauty of the Native American gods and belief systems.

Saturday, June 18, 2016

My daddy: An old post revisited

Someone was posting on Facebook a little while ago about snakes, so I thought I'd bring out an old post and dust it off. Makes me miss my daddy.


  
Okay...so last night I was all freaked out and complaining about that damned Murphy whose law just plains sucks eggs.  You know, the one that says if it can go wrong it will?

I was visiting the boyfriend in town and called my dad to see what was going on.

"Dee, Versace is gone.  I've looked everywhere."

Versace, for those of you who don't know, is my daughter's precious little puggle (cross between a pug and a beagle).  The ex-husband decided he didn't want to deal with her anymore after my daughter got an apartment, so I went over to the house on my last visit to Los Angeles and got her and brought her home.  My daughter loves that dog more than anything or anyone else.  So on the few occasions something's happened where we thought we'd have to make that dreaded call and tell her something awful has happened have been truly horrifying times.

Last night was one of them.

My dad lives on 400 acres in the country.  There's a fellow who lives  behind us who raises cows, and he and my dad have an arrangement.  If he'll come and cut the pasture and make it look all pretty like a golf course, he can keep the hay and use it for his cattle.

But Versace loves to chase cars.  So we have to keep her inside if anyone's driving around outside.  So back to the story.

"I'd waited until I was sure Robert had left and then I let her out," he said.  "But a little while later I heard the other dogs making a big racket, and went out to see what it was."

Turns out all the dogs were frantically barking at a big-as-all-get-out water mocassin.  My 85-year-old father, who cut down a pecan tree all by himself last year, got a stick.  Not even a big stick.  Just a stick.  And beat that three-foot-long, four-inch-diameter, mean-ass water mocassin to death.  A little stick maybe two feet long.

"I felt bad for the poor snake," he said.  "But I had to do it."

The closer he gets to his own mortality, the more he hates taking a life -- any life.

I'd have been scared silly.

Then he noticed Versace was gone.  And that's when I called.  We both knew what had happened.  She'd been bitten and run off to die somewhere.

"I'll be right out," I said, along with a few rather horrible profanities under my breath, and drove pell-mell out to Daddy's.  We called and called and called.  Nothing.

I was supposed to have taken her to the vet this week for all her shots, her worming, and her rattlesnake vaccine.  This was a water mocassin...but still.

I was heartbroken.  And exhausted.  I went to bed.  I ranted about Murphy's Law on Facebook for a bit and then turned off the light and went to bed.  I was in that twilight where you're not really asleep but not awake either, when I heard something running into the room and jumping onto the bed.

"Versace?"

She waggled her butt and smiled and licked my face.

Am I dreaming?  I stumbled out of bed and went downstairs.  I crept into Daddy's room.

"Daddy?"

"She came to the door a few minutes ago.  I was so glad to see her I gave her a whole can of cat food."

Canned cat food is Versace's guilty pleasure.  He usually curses at her and kicks her out of the way when she tries to horn in on the kitties' food.

I took her today to get those shots.











Friday, May 6, 2016

Tate Taylor wants us to vote for Darryl Grennell for Mayor of Natchez. So do I.

Without Darryl, the movie would not have been filmed in Natchez. I thought, “This guy should be running this town.”  
No Images? Click here
Get on Up and Elect Darryl Mayor!
Letter to the Voters of Natchez from Director,  Tate Taylor
 
To the Voters of Natchez:
Natchez NEEDS Darryl Grennell to be the next Mayor of Natchez, and here’s why:
When I was working so hard to make NATCHEZ the location for filming Get On Up! I faced many obstacles, both in the city and from Hollywood. Natchez is not the first choice when it comes to setting up a project like this in terms of resources, community support, or accessibility.
When I met Darryl everything changed.
He was assertive, efficient and sophisticated in his approach to solving potential problems in a way that worked for both local businesses and the interests of Get On Up!. 
I thought to myself, “This guy should be running this town.”  
Continued...
Just for fun watch
the official trailer again!
From left:Mr. Boseman as James Brown and director Tate Taylor on the set of 'Get on Up.' 
UNIVERSAL PICTURES
Darryl saw the potential for the city both in terms of financial gain and community growth. He is a selfless advocate for Natchez and a trusted friend. He helped this
community shine in the eyes of the world when it came to hospitality and business savvy.
Without Darryl, the movie would not have been filmed in Natchez.  
The filming of Get On Up! not only brought international attention to Natchez,
it also brought new revenue and created jobs.  
Please join me in supporting Darryl for Mayor. 
Elect him to help us build the Natchez we all know we can have!
Tate Taylor, Director
 
The Help • Get On Up!
 

Friday, March 18, 2016

Smoot's Grocery -- Bringing the Blues Back Home


Story by Elodie Pritchartt
Photos by Dub Rogers and Elodie Pritchartt

When tourists visiting Steampunk Coffee Roasters would ask owner Dub Rogers where to go for live blues music in Natchez, he often had to disappoint them. For years, the music scene in Natchez was mostly country & western and a little rock and roll, and that was hit or miss. “Every now and then there was a cover band at one of the other bars, but no place where you could go on certain nights and know there was music.” 
So the coffee entrepreneur decided to expand to fill that niche. He found a place next door to Steampunk:  the old Smoot’s Grocery, a small store that had operated on the bluff at the corner of High and Broadway streets for many years.  
The little tin building with the covered porch, which had been owned and operated by George Henry Smoot and his wife Gertrude, still held its charm, although it had fallen into disrepair after closing in the 1970s. “I could’ve done this anywhere,” Dub said, “… but I thought it was the most perfectly set, perfect location anywhere.”  
Smoot’s sits on Natchez’ famous bluff, directly across from the old train station with the river rolling by two hundred feet below. Barges and steamboats chug slowly past, carrying America’s cargo and tourists. Looking across the river at the flat Louisiana Delta, the past reverberates with the gospel music and slave songs from which the blues ultimately sprang. “We’ve had probably twelve acts come through, and all of them commented about the feeling they get when they come here,” Rogers said.

The renovation took a year and a half. During that time other clubs in Natchez— Rolling River Bistro, Under-the-Hill-Saloon, Andrew’s Tavern, Bowie’s Tavern, and others—started booking music more regularly, including the blues. Featuring several markers along the Mississippi Blues Trail, Natchez now finds that its reputation as an antebellum attraction has expanded to include its position as a music destination in its own right.
Cities and towns along Highways 61 and 49 that played an historic role in the development of the genre have been able to maintain or reestablish their connection to the blues. Across the river in Ferriday, Haney’s Big House had been a feature attraction for years on the Chitlin’ Circuit, hosting such notable African American entertainers as B.B. King, Moms Mabley, Redd Foxx, Ray Charles, and Bobby Bland, until it burned in 1966. At one point, it had seemed like Natchez could be as well known for its African American music as its neighbors along the Blues Highway. But the 1940 tragedy at Natchez’ The Rhythm Club may have been responsible for halting the African American music scene there. Two hundred nine people were killed when the overcrowded club, a dance hall that catered to the black community, burned. It is still the fourth deadliest nightclub fire in U.S. history and is responsible for many of the fire codes that exist today, such as doors that open out instead of in, requirements for the number of exits, occupancy limitations, and interior finish standards. Having occurred in the Bible Belt, where dancing was often considered a sin, many people believed the tragedy was an assignment of God’s judgment. Along with scores of lives, April 23, 1940, was also the night the music died in Natchez. Until now.
**
Sitting in the bar with Dub (pictured left), there was a flurry of activity as workers prepared for the evening’s entertainment: Bud “Dr. Who” Carson and Mark Du ‘Velle Doyle. It was going to be an evening of blues music extraordinaire. Dub proudly pointed out the workmanship and materials that went into the renovation. “Every piece of wood in this place has a story,” he said. “Either it’s come from somewhere, or I took it apart. I’ve been collecting wood for a number of years. This is reclaimed wood that came from the old Natchez Landing Restaurant under the hill. We used the rafters to make the bar.”
He pointed to another spot, “This wood came from the Masonic Lodge over in St. Joe, Louisiana. Buddy Chauvin gave me these lights that came out of the Herold & Miller Coffee Company. We’ve got the Pasternack sign that was over in Haney’s juke joint in Ferriday. There’s a lot of historical stuff here. That white wood there came from Smoot’s; the colored wood over there came from a house over on Garden Street.”
Dub recalled his first memories of Smoot’s: “My first experience over here was with the Natchez Pecan Company [located just a few feet down the street] because that’s where I made my very first dollar on my own. It was back in 1963 or ’64, and I’d been picking pecans from Halloween to, like, the last week before Christmas. I was about ten years old.
“We had several big coffee sacks and got the yardman to load them up in my grandmother’s Cadillac. She took us over here, and I got about $40. That was a lot of money back then. We never had cash. If we went to the grocery store, we put it on a ticket. So right after that, we came down to Smoot’s, and I bought banana planks and Moonpies.
For those who were teenagers in the 1960s and 70s, memories of Smoot’s consisted of strolling into the store with a fake I.D. and false bravado to try to score a six pack of beer or malt liquor. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. “I remember one of my friends went in there once,” said Tommy Polk, who, like Rogers, also grew up in Vidalia. “… and tried to buy some beer. Mr. Smoot looked at her I.D. and said, ‘This isn’t you.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘No, it’s not.’ 
‘How can you tell?’
‘Because your earrings have different initials than the name on this I.D.’”
Busted.
A trip to the Historic Natchez Foundation reveals that the area where Smoot’s is located was once the red-light district. Poring over old city maps, Foundation Director Mimi Miller remarked, “On the site in 1892, there’s a long rectangular building labeled ‘Negro Tenement.’ No porch, no nothing.”
She explained that the late Elizabeth Britton Conner had a scrapbook of the houses facing Broadway all along this block. “I’m not quite sure what she meant by it, but she wrote on it, ‘Where the white slaves lived.’ And whether that’s a reference to them having worked in textile factories or being prostitutes, I’ve never been sure of, because many of them worked in the textile mills, which were also located on Broadway,” said Miller.
Between 1897 and 1901, a two-story building appears on the map labeled “Armour Packing Co.” Then, between 1925 and 1939, the lot is empty. No building. But between 1939 and 1941, the building we know as Smoot’s appears, labeled “Grocery Store of George H. Smoot,” with a telephone number of 1246.


The building sat vacant. For Dub, though, who’d moved away for thirty-plus years, the little building was a persistent memory. “This was the epitome of Natchez for me,” he said. “I thought this building, in particular, because each time I’d come to Natchez, I’d drive around. Even forty-something years ago when I got out of high school, I’d always thought if I had a bar it would be right there.”
His vision has materialized. Dub said he’ll book primarily blues and Americana music. At the moment, Smoot’s specializes in craft beers but will have a full bar as soon as the liquor license comes through. For the time being, if you don’t want beer, you can bring your own liquor and Smoot’s will provide glasses, ice, and mixers for a small fee.
Smoot’s Grocery held a soft opening the weekend of the Balloon Festival in October, finally opening for real a few weeks before Christmas. By early January, he’d already hosted several top blues acts: Grady Champion, Kern Pratt, Mississippi Bigfoot, Will Kimbrough, Brint Anderson, and the Runnin’ Pardners, with many more to come.
“We’re part of the Americana [Music] Trail,” he noted, adding that Aubrey Preston, who spearheaded the music tourism website, told him he thought it was one of the best things that could’ve happened for Natchez. The blues bug has spread throughout the area. And that’s a good thing.
Smoot’s Grocery 
319 North Broadway Street
Natchez, Miss. 
(601) 870-6882  
smootsgrocery.com 
To hear a bona fide blues musician sing about the Rhythm Club fire, listen to Howlin’ Wolf sing “The Natchez Burning” at 
youtu.be/gbwQ8OoMrYc.  

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Adventures with Boyfriend



So this afternoon, Boyfriend and I decide to ride out to Upton's Nursery to look at some plants. We stop at Kaiser's gas station 'cause Boyfriend's thirsty. I pull my little dark, blue Impala up to the front door of the store, right behind another little dark blue Impala that I figure will be leaving any minute.
"You want anything?" Boyfriend asks.
"Yeah. Get me a water," I say.
"Okay, den," he says, and disappears into the store.
I sit there playing on my phone for about seven or eight minutes, and then here comes Boyfriend out da stow!
He's walkin' around, noticing what a nice day it is. I can almost hear the little thought bubble over his head, saying, "Do dee do dee do dee do. Ain't it nice today?"
Then he heads to the wrong little dark blue Impala.
I honk my horn.
"Do dee do dee do,"
He opens the door. Then he casually slides into the passenger seat. Whoever's in that car is sitting there smoking cigarettes.
"GIRLFRIEND!" he says, "...are you smoking......????? Gaahhhh!"
He jumps out of the car and heads toward mine.
He said that big, black guy was laughing his asssssss off!
Oh, how I do appreciate the small things in life.

So later, after Boyfriend has gotten over calling some big, black dude "Girlfriend," he comes to meet me under the hill at The Camp. He drives down Broadway and has to stop at the top of Silver Street because some guy's crossing the street.
He's crossing the street really, really slowly...
Boyfriend's just about to yell, "Dammit! Can't you see me sitting here waiting for me, you sonofabitch? What? Are you BLIND????"  when he finally notices the white cane the guy's tapping all over the street in front of him.
"Um....nebbermind."
HAW! I can't remember the last time I had this much fun laughing at Boyfriend's foibles. Thank you, honeychile. You made my day.

Friday, January 15, 2016

Adorable little belle

I've been going through my dad's scrapbook.  For some reason, he'd kept a couple of photos of one of his favorite people, Cassell Cain.  These photos were taken around 1950.