Life won’t wait

Paul Saitowitz

Three weeks ago I realized a dream I’ve been clinging to for quite

some time. A dream most people never understood, but nevertheless thought

was “cool.” I may not be black and I may not be blind, but I love the

blues. The backbone of rock ‘n’ roll, the music indigenous to this great

country.

Three Thursdays ago I boarded a plane bound for Memphis, Tenn., and me

and two of my other Orange County friends headed to the Delta in search

of the authentic blues. Not the watered down replication at the House of

Blues or other corporate venues, the real down home spiritual,

soul-crying, body-shaking stuff.

After getting off the plane and visiting the eternal palace of the

“King” himself -- Graceland -- we headed off to Holly Springs, Miss., the

home of blues legends R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimborough.

Holly Springs defines the blues -- old buildings, poverty, high

unemployment and some of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

We rolled through the town square, and around the corner we found

Brown’s Lounge. A hole in the wall replete with a three-stooled bar and a

refrigerator. No beer on tap, no hard alcohol, not even a phone, this

place was the real deal.

We walked in and owner Lacy Brown did a double take and then asked us

who we were. You see Holly Springs doesn’t get too many tourists and we

didn’t exactly resemble the locals.

After explaining our mission Lacy plopped down a beer in front of each

of us and proceeded to tell us the history of the blues in the northern

Mississippi town. He then gave me a record of Holly Springs’ own James

“Son” Thomas. A record I of course left on the plane coming home (Believe

me, I know I’m an idiot).

We briefly stopped in Oxford, Miss. following our stay in Holly

Springs, and then it was time to head down to Clarksdale, Miss. Home of

the legendary intersection of Rts. 61 and 49. Otherwise known as the

Crossroads, the place where Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil to

create the blues.

Our stop at the Crossroads led us to Abe’s, a soul food diner that had

been there since 1924. After a delicious rib sandwich, the people there

told us to hit up club Ground Zero that evening to see some real blues.

Ground Zero put us knee-deep in the chitlins, we saw Big-T and the

Family play some of the meanest blues I’d ever seen. The place was

jumping with authenticity you can’t find anywhere else. Big-T even

invited us to his private club for an after-hours party, where we drank

and danced to the blues until the wee hours of the morning.

On our way home back to Los Angeles our plane was overbooked so we

were delayed two hours. However, we were given a free round-trip ticket

anywhere in the U.S. for our trouble. I’ll give you 10 guesses as to where I’m gonna go.

* PAUL SAITOWITZ is a news editor. He can be reached at (949) 574-4295

or by e-mail at paul.saitowitz@latimes.com.