HOME OF THE BLUES

.....and also the birthplace of rock and roll.

THE PEABODY DUCKS

WHERE MARTIN LUTHER KING WAS ASSASSINATED

JACQUELINE SMITH STILL PROTESTIN'

BOB DYLAN AND HIS BAND

My first visit of the day was to the Peabody Hotel to see the famous Peabody ducks. Their $200,000 palace (i.e. enclosure) is on the roof of the 14-floor Hotel, but at exactly 11.00am each morning they are escorted to the lift (sorry, elevator) by the 'Duckmaster' and taken to the lobby where they spend the rest of the day swimming around the marble fountain. They are escorted back up to the roof at 5.00pm. Other than unlocking the enclosure and pressing the lift button, the Duckmaster didn't have much to do as the ducks knew just where they were going. They waddled so fast that it was difficult keeping up with them.

I visited the store/workshop of St. Blues guitar-makers. I hadn't heard of the make before, but Clapton and Bono seem to have done. From there I walked to Sun Studios where Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis and Johnny Cash recorded. Then I took a ride along the Mississippi riverside on one of the clackety trolleybuses.

An interesting encounter occurred when I visited the Lorraine Motel where the Reverend Dr Martin Luther King was assassinated. The Motel is now a National Civil Rights Museum, and they are in the process of developing it further, but not everyone seems to be impressed by the idea.

Black lady Jacqueline Smith has been making her own civil rights protest for over 25 years from her pitch by the Lorraine Motel sign. She believes that the area surrounding the Motel has become gentrified, forcing out locals, mostly black, because they cannot afford the increased rents. She thinks that all the money spent on the Museum should be used to provide affordable housing for the community. She is a spirited individual who is clearly committed to her campaign and, whilst I know nothing of the local politics, I suspect she may have a point. I gave her $5 for her cause, but when she heard I hadn't eaten yet she offered it back.

In the evening I finally took my stroll along Beale Street but, compared to Bourbon Street in New Orleans, it seemed tame. Beale Street was clearly also a hunting ground for beggars so, after being asked if I could spare a buck 5 times in less than 20 minutes, I decided to head for the nearby Autozone Sports Park where I was told Bob Dylan was playing.

It wasn't hard to find the Park - I just followed the sound of the music. As I stood outside the steel fence hoping to get a glimpse of the stage, someone inside pushed a ticket through the bars into my hand and told me to come on in. So I did.

The ticket got me right to the front for the last half dozen numbers of the evening. I hope Mr Dylan appreciated me coming all the way from England to hear him.