I Left (Some of) My Money in Tunica, Mississippi

29 Dec

For the past few days, I have been immersed in the entertainment possibilities of Tunica, Mississippi, a place to which I have been traveling with my family and friends for many years. Quite a few people in these parts go to Tunica, but you may not know that it is the gambling capital of the South. It doesn’t have the glamor of Las Vegas or the boardwalk of Atlantic City, but it has all I need to escape from the stress and worries of life – Blackjack tables.

Dominated by cotton and other crops, Tunica County was the poorest area in the state. Then, the Mississippi legislature, ahead of other states, legalized riverboat gambling. Casino owners, wanting access to the growing population of the South, quickly searched for a willing municipal partner, and the leaders of Tunica were eager to take advantage of their vicinity to the Mississippi River. It wasn’t long before casinos and grand hotels were springing from the flat bottom lands. Imagine looking out of your hotel room and seeing cotton fields all around. That is Tunica.

Gambling hit northern Mississippi a few decades ago, and I have visited the area countless times since. Many of the trips have been lost from memory or have blurred together, but the first time always stands out. I went with a bunch of friends, and we spent the first night in Memphis. A member of our group had a friend that we were going to meet up with, and when we met I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was beautiful with jet black hair and dark eyes. Coincidentally, we had the same last name, and I started to think that will make things simple. We hit the town hard that night and headed the 30 miles south to the casinos the next day. I had just lost quite a bit of money in Las Vegas and began to brag that I was going to win all that back and more. Everybody was telling me that it was impossible and that I needed to shut up. However, she took it further. If I won more than I had lost, then she would take off all of her clothes and let me do a body shot off of her body – on any area I wanted. Game on.

When we walked into the casino, I picked out a Blackjack table and told them to get me there when they were ready to go. The table was packed with fun-loving people. We drank, laughed and gambled. I drank so much that I lost track of what I was betting (not a good idea generally). I was also distracted by the girl sitting next to me – Holly from Hope, Arkansas. We talked and flirted and bumped up against each other all night. She wanted my undivided attention, and I probably should have given it to her. But, I was on a mission. I don’t know how much time passed, but my good friend walked up and said everyone was ready. I said goodbye to Holly and went to the bank to cash in my chips without knowing exactly how much there was. With money in hand, I walked to where the group was sitting and pulled the cash out of my pocket. “Shot Girl” couldn’t believe that I had won double what I lost in Las Vegas. To her credit, she went through with our agreement, and a good time was had by all. Well, maybe not all, but I had a blast.

Through the years, my trips have calmed considerably. I have taken several girlfriends, but they didn’t grasp the enjoyment of gambling. My parents like to go, and I have taken them several times. The most fun was with my uncle. He loved Blackjack as much as me, and we spent many hours sitting at opposite ends of a table trying to break the bank. He passed away last year after a decade-long battle with cancer. Whenever we walked into a casino, he would say, “I’m getting well.”

This trip was just me and my parents. We stayed at Harrah’s and did most of our gambling there. I always start slowly and build up my pace. I played some video poker with my dad while my mom worked the penny slots. Then, I found my own penny machine based on “The Hangover” and won some money. By this time, we were getting hungry and hit Paula Deen’s Buffet. I am sure Paula’s real restaurant is a lot better, but this one is a great place to eat. Plus, gamblers get to eat for free, and it is easy to get into than her original locale – or so I hear. After dinner, I tried my first foray into Blackjack on a $5 table where the players were not too bad (more on that later). The conversation was fine, but I would rather not talk to anyone. The dealer should be a robot and the other players should just play. But, this was a chatty bunch.

I was at my usual 3rd base position (the last player before the dealer), and the guy at 1st base (the first player) was having a difficult time making decisions. On one hand, the guy asked for advice, and another player told him what “The Book” says. For serious Blackjack players, “The Book” is like the Holy Grail, as it charts every situation that you’ll face and tells you the play to make. Before sitting down at a table, I highly encourage you to memorize it. However, players have a love/hate relationship with it. They follow it but complain about it when they lose. The key is to play the percentages and get the best odds on your money while understanding that the house is still the favorite. That’s why they can build big buildings and provide free rooms, food and drinks.

Anyway, the player giving advice said that the only person to make money from the book was the guy who wrote it. It’s a common line with people who lose after making the right play. I hate it.

So, I interjected that I watched a documentary about him man who developed the Blackjack chart. He was a mathematician who was approached by a gambler about helping him win. After a weekend proving his theory worked, the math whiz quit Blackjack and used his formula to gain wealth in the stock market. In return, I received a smart remark about how it must have been a long time ago because nobody makes money in the stock market now. No shit, Sherlock. How long do you think “The Book” has been out? Another thing to remember, don’t try to bring an intelligent conversation to the table.

The next day we decided to get out of the casino for a while and check out the countryside. Most people who go to Tunica think they have actually gone to the city of Tunica, but they haven’t. The casinos sit in the Robinsonville community, and Tunica is several miles down the road. Riding through the city provides clues that the city fathers did not anticipate this. There is a History of Tunica Museum, and the town center has been turned into a park-like area surrounded by shops and small restaurants. Obviously, they expected an influx of tourists that did not show up in the expected numbers. And, the people who do not venture out are missing a lot. Tunica is a nice little town with a beautiful courthouse and interesting things to look at. Also, the Hollywood Cafe is closer to the casinos than Tunica. It was one of the great music clubs where many of the great Blues artists got their start. When Marc Cohn sings “Walking in Memphis”, he includes this line:

Now Murial plays piano

Every Friday at the Hollywood

He is referencing this place. I wonder how many gamblers even know it’s there.

However, a more famous blues place is just south of Tunica on Highway 61. Clarksdale, Mississippi was also one of the great Blues locales, but one with more mysticism. According to legend, it is where Robert Johnson went to the crossroads and sold his soul to the Devil in return for being a great Bluesman. Again, I wonder how many gamblers have ventured that far away from the slot machines.

When I returned to the tables, I realized how bad it can get. I sat at another $5 table and immediately knew that I had made a mistake. No one was playing by “The Book” except me. The man next to me even asked why I was making bad decisions. The guy at 1st base agonized over every decision. This is a bad sign because if someone knows “The Book”, then there is really no tough decision. You just do what you have trained yourself to do. Play the odds instead of hunches. In short, it was terrible, so I got up and went to a $25 table. Most people who are willing to bet a minimum of $25 and probably more know how to play the game. It was wonderful. No delayed decisions. Everything by “The Book”. Splits. Double downs. Fast-paced. I lost $600.

The only person to make money from “The Book” was the guy who wrote it.

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“If You Could Read My Mind” There’s No Telling What You Would Find

24 Dec

The other day I caught the ending of “Wonderland”, a movie starring Val Kilmer. It chronicles the life of John Holmes, porn legend, and his possible role in a murder/robbery. The ending is the best part of the movie. Holmes and his girlfriend are parked in the desert discussing the future. He then takes off while the movie tells us what the future held for them and others portrayed in the film. All of that is great, but the best part is that Gordon Lightfoot’s “If You Could Read My Mind” was playing over the scene. This was one of my favorite songs as a kid and like it to this day. I even saw Lightfoot in concert just to hear this one song live.

When I was young, my favorite songs were ones I could visualize. I could see the guy trying to frantically check out of the “Hotel California”. I could also see the car going down Interstate 40 in “By the Time I Get to Phoenix”. However, nothing hit my imagination like “If You Could Read My Mind”. I know that I took things too literally and missed the deeper meanings of the lyrics, but I still can’t listen to these songs without watching the childhood created movie in my head.

Obviously. Lightfoot’s song is about a love that has run its course.

I don’t know where we went wrong

But the feelins’ gone

And I just can’t get it back.

See. he spells it out plainly. But, my child’s imagination focused on other lines.

If I could read your mind love

What a tale your thoughts could tell.

Just like the paperback novel.

The kind that drugstores sell.

I could actually see a woman buying a paperback in a drugstore. Then, there was the part about the movie.

I’d walk away like a movie star

Who gets burned in a three-way script.

Enter number two.

A movie queen to play the scene

Of bringing all the good things out in me.

Again, I could see a movie set where actors are playing the roles that Lightfoot is describing. However. the best part was in the beginning of the song.

Just like an old-time movie

‘Bout a ghost in a wishin’ well.

In a castle dark or a fortress strong

With chains upon my feet,

You know that ghost is me.

And I will never be set free

As long as I’m a ghost you can’t see.

This part was easy to imagine because I had seen exactly what he was describing. I loved watching Abbott and Costello movies, and all of them were basically the same. Abbott played the straight man to Costello’s bumbling character. But, one movie was different. In 1946, they made “The Time of Their Lives”, about star-crossed lovers killed during the American Revolution. Their ghosts are trapped on an estate, specifically to a well, until they can prove their innocence. Each time I heard “If You Could Read My Mind” I thought about Abbott and Costello and the ghost movie that they made.

I have often wondered if this was something I conjured up, or did Gordon Lightfoot use the movie as his inspiration? How weird would it be if a 1940s Abbott and Costello movie led to a hit song about dying love in the 1970s? I have no idea if Lightfoot ever saw the movie, but I like to think that I figured out his secret and was able to read his mind, to paraphrase from the song. If not then I know that this song and others did what good songs are meant to do. They allowed me to enter my imagination and take what I wanted from them. From “If You Could Read My Mind” I took Abbott and Costello; combined them with a woman buying a paperback from a drugstore; and put them all on a movie set to my own made up studio where I was the star.

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Victorian Brothelese

23 Dec

That’s a strange title isn’t it? I heard that term while taking a tour of a brothel museum and, through my travels and research, have not seen or heard that term since. The owner of the museum threw it out there and, I assume, made it up. However, it is a good way to describe the experience of many in the Red Light Districts of the American West. When people hear the word Victorian, they think of a historical era of proper manners, speech, fashion and writing; a time of economic prosperity and technological advancement. Of course, brothelese brings to mind houses of prostitution. Put those two words together, and you have a good start at understanding the brothels that I have studied.

Prostitutes of the West worked in a hierarchical class structure, or a “whorearchy” (my term), in which the brothel was the highest rung. Also called parlor houses, they provided elaborate surroundings, luxuries, amenities, and the protection of a male bouncer if the clients became too rough. At the dawn of the twentieth century, one house in Colorado used electric lights, running water and a telephone. A staff of seven, including a bartender, a maid, and a musician, provided services other than sex. Of course, there were always five or six prostitutes. The Dumas Brothel in Butte, Montana was a three-story brick building that contained forty-three rooms and used pocket doors to create large rooms for parties.

Brothels differed in size and location, but the business structure for each remained basically the same. Respected businessmen owned most of the parlor houses but did not want their financial involvement to become commonly known. To accomplish this, they placed deeds under false names or in the names of their wives.

Madams were hired to oversee the day-to-day operations. These women usually emerged from the ranks of older prostitutes with experience in the profession and the knowledge and skills to recruit employees and customers. In fact, a few madams owned their own businesses.

Madams oversaw the business aspect of the brothels while the prostitutes did the work. A work shift began with the woman put on display. Therefore, when a man entered an establishment he found the women lounging in a parlor room. Here, he could choose someone in which to spend some time. When a customer chose a prostitute, he gave the money to the madam or someone else charged with the task. The amount paid depended on several factors, including house rate, the amount of time, and the beauty and skill of the woman.

Brothels built their business on pampering and catering to men who could afford the services. On average, a quick “date” cost five dollars, and an entire night cost between fifteen and thirty dollars. Owners depended on volume for profit by running twenty-four hours a day. With a shift of twenty-four hours, a women could conceivably have sex with twenty-five men and produce a tremendous amount of money. The house collected most of the fee, while the girls kept tips, sold photos and drinks, and stole from their customers. From this amount, the prostitutes paid their expenses, including clothes from local merchants at inflated prices, taxes to the local government, and bribes to the police.

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Of Red Lights and Research

19 Dec

When I began my career as a graduate student in History, I knew that I wanted to focus on the American West. While popular culture has developed the myth of the lone rider traveling the region with absolute freedom, I realized that the truth was more complicated than that. People who went into the West were not looking for freedom. They were looking for economic opportunity. Therefore, I became interested in the economic aspects of the West rather than the typical subjects, such as gunfighters and outlaws. Of course, economics encompasses a great deal, and I was informed by my guiding professor that some limitation were in order. Then, the following transpired.

I would like to study the cattle industry.

There’s already a lot of research on that. What else are you interested in?

The mining industry was huge. How about that?

That’s been done to death, too.

Ok, what about the lumber industry?

That won’t work either.

(This is when I realized that I should go ahead and ask him what I should do.)

Ok, what should I do?

Did you ever think about researching prostitution? People are just not starting to look into it.

Sounds great to me. Thanks.

With that short conversation, I began life as an expert on prostitution in the American West. Through the years, I have read, researched, written and spoken about the economics of prostitution in the West and the everyday lives of the people involved in the industry. When people (especially men) find out about what I know about, they immediately start in. What are the brothels in Nevada like? Leave it to you to study whores. Ever study the whores on Dickerson Road (a notorious spot in Nashville)? I am left to explain that I have conducted scholarly research about dead prostitutes – not ones that are currently working. And, I did not choose the topic because I am a pervert. With this in mind, here is a synopsis of my life as a historian of prostitution in the West.

I went to graduate school in Tennessee, and my fellow students said only I would choose a topic halfway across the continent to research. People usually research something more conveniently located. However, I was not going to pick the Civil War or Andrew Jackson over the American West. I read all I could locally but knew that I would eventually have to travel. Luckily, I found two brothel museums fairly close together. The first was the Dumas Brothel in Butte, Montana. I spent several weeks in Butte and came to know the city quite well. Actually, there’s not much to know. I spent a lot of time at the Dumas, the archives and the Denny’s. I met some great people who helped me considerably and learned a great deal about the history of the city and of the Red Light District.

Wallace, Idaho sits just over the Idaho/Montana border and was home to the second museum, the Oasis Rooms. I only spent a few days in Wallace, but the people there were more than helpful. I took some great pictures and got some greater information.

With the information gathered from these locations and documents about the industry throughout the West, I was able to write a concise history about prostitution. In the midst of getting my graduate degree, I was hired at my current teaching position. As a new faculty member, students had no idea what to expect. Honestly, I had no idea what to expect either. But, I was determined not to let the research go to waste. I was going to talk about whoredom every chance I got. The first class was stunned when I gave the lecture on the 19th Century sex industry, and it was not long before word got around. I was the cool teacher that studied prostitutes instead of something uncool like regular History. From then until now, my classes constantly fill, and my office is always busy. They come by to see the photographs of prostitutes and the paintings of brothels on my walls.

As a small university, we are also expected to speak to community groups and perform other types of community service. This has created some interesting speeches for me. I am a member of the local Rotary Club and was asked to speak when I first joined. They insisted that I talk about my research. I tried to warn them that it wasn’t all fuzzy stories about Miss Kitty and the “whore with the heart of gold”, and they said it was fine. So, I gave them all the gory details. I think half of the audience was gone by the time I was finished, as several women walked out in disgust. Interestingly, no men left. I learned something that day. While people say they want to know history, they would rather not know the darker sides of the subject. I toned down the presentation after that experience.

Many people think that if I know about prostitution in the 19th Century American West, then I also know about prostitution at all other times as places. A retired colleague thought that and told the Daughters of the American Revolution that I would speak to them. When I said that they probably know more about the revolution than I do, he replied that I should talk about prostitution. I knew nothing about prostitution in the American Revolution, so I did some research. But, with the Rotary experience behind me, I was nervous about talking to a room full of elderly women. To make it go smoother, I used a historical code word – camp-followers – instead of a more descriptive term. As I spoke, I heard the following conversation between told ladies in the back.

What’s he talking about?

Camp-followers.

What?

Camp-followers.

What?

HE’S TALKING ABOUT WHORES!!!

Oh, now I understand.

So, now I am famous in my little town as the expert on whores. An older man in town, who has since passed away, came to me with a book that he had read about a madam in New Mexico. He had found a name in it that he recognized – mine. I was used as a footnote in the introduction, which was written by the professor who sent me on the journey through the Red Light Districts. I was proud to see my name in print and, for the first time, felt like a real historian. I bought a copy for my parents. They looked at it, and my mom said, “All those years of study, and you are in a book with a picture of a naked women on the front of it.”

Yep, I had made it.

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Maybe I Should Give You Some History

16 Dec

As a historian, I feel that I have neglected my calling by not writing about some interesting aspect of the past. I haven’t written about it for several reasons.

1. I like to think that I am a well-rounded person with many interests and many things to write about. I hope those who have stumbled across the blog find those things entertaining and insightful.

2. History is my job, and I need this blog to be an escape from my job and other aspects of my everyday life. It is hard to escape my job because a lot of people have an interest in some aspect of the past. Often, they will ask me questions about a person or an event that they have already established an opinion about. The Civil War is really bad in these parts. They are Civil War buffs and think that I should be as well. You can’t realize how many times someone has started a conversation by asking, “You are a history buff aren’t you?” Actually, I’m not. I am a professional historian.

3. A lot of people find history boring. These are the ones who were probably forced to memorize dates by some football coach/teacher in high school. I figured that if I was going to get a lot of hits, then I should not focus on historical subjects.

With those in mind, I feel the need to give a little history lesson. As I thought about what to write, I realized that I did not want to throw out a big lecture. Then, I remember that several years ago my university came up with an advertising idea. We would buy radio time and provide 30 seconds of historical tidbits. The history faculty came up with some short stories to be read in these spots. It took quite a bit of time, but the ads were never recorded. I am thinking that there is no reason to let them go to waste. So. periodically I will put one of them on the blog. Not surprisingly, each one has a connection to my home state. Here is the first one.

Did you know that one of America’s most highly regarded sports writers was from Tennessee? Born in Murfreesboro in 1890, Grantland Rice began his journalistic career at the Nashville News before finally becoming a writer for the New York Tribune. When his column became nationally syndicated, Rice’s writing style – a combination of sports news, gossip and commentary – lead to popularity throughout the United States. Through Rice’s vivid descriptions and artistic use of the English language, fans could visualize teams that they had never seen. Famous for naming the “Four Horsemen” of Notre Dame, perhaps Grantland Rice’s most remembered line is derived from a poem. “For when the One Great Scorer comes to mark against your name, He writes – not that you won or lost – but how you played the game.”

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Childhood Memories – Road Trips

14 Dec

I am amazed at what my friends call a vacation. They talk about going to the beach; staying in a condo; eating seafood; and, generally, lying around for several days. They talk about how great it is to relax in the sun and read books. I know that many people think this is the perfect idea of fun and frivolity. I think it is hell on earth. It’s hot. It’s sweaty. Sand gets everywhere. Seafood is not meant to be eaten for a solid week. But most of all, sitting around all of that time is mind-destroying. I need to see something besides the same waves coming in from the same horizon before eating the same crab legs while wearing the same lobster bib. And I know whose fault it is that I think this way…

My dad dreamed of being a truck driver when he was a kid. He did not reach his dream but did become successful in the business world. With his dream of being a trucker dashed, my dad made sure that he ventured on that endless black ribbon by taking his family on road trips every summer. Other families went to the beach. We picked a cardinal direction, usually west, and headed out for a couple of weeks of constant changes in hotels and landscapes. My dad’s motto was “never burn daylight”, so we went from daylight to dark touring the country and checking out the scene. My mom even packed a cooler with sandwich stuff and drinks, so we could eat on the move. We were the real Griswold’s, and nothing from a movie can come close to what we experienced.

Because of my dad, I had visited all 50 states by the time I was 24. I developed a love for history from visiting the places where history happened. Some of my greatest memories are from the road, but it wasn’t all pleasant. Spending that much time in a cramped vehicle led to funny events that weren’t very funny at the time.

1. The Great Winnebago Trip – One year my dad got the bright idea to rent a motor home to drive cross-country. It started out good enough with my dad driving while the rest of us whooped it up in back. However, problems soon arose. The Winnebago broke down. And it broke down again. And it broke down again. In fact, it broke down all the way to California and back. It ended up with three fuel pumps that my brother had to hose down every time we stopped. The trip is legendary in these circles and can’t be accurately depicted here, but a few things stand out.

On a Saturday night, we broke down in Amarillo while heading west. The next Saturday night we broke down in Amarillo on the way east. The same mechanic worked on it both times. My mom took his picture. In between those two stops, we broke down in the middle of the Los Angeles freeway. We also broke down in a blasting zone. There was also the time we broke down in Needles and watched them fry eggs on the sidewalk. That was the last motor home.

2. The “My Mom Lost Her Mind” Trip – We spent the night west of the Colorado/Kansas border with the plan to drive to St. Louis the next day. Road trips are a loop, and the turn home was always seen as the home stretch. My mom was driving as we neared St. Louis in a rain storm. It was then that we discovered no rooms at the inns. St. Louis, big city that it is, was completely booked. My mom drove on. And drove on. And drove on. We tried to get her to stop, but she held a death grip on the wheel and wouldn’t listen. Her eyes got wide as she focused on the road. Ignoring the pleas of myself and my dad, she drove all the way home. We drove from Colorado to Tennessee in one day.

3. The “Speed of Sound” Trip – In junior high, my teacher asked us to write an essay about our summer. I wrote about our road trip, and she gave me an F for making it up. My mom had to call her and explain that it was all true. Simply, we drove to Virginia and toured the sights around Washington. We saw Mt. Vernon, Monticello, Arlington Cemetery and the Smithsonian. We then drove to Philadelphia and saw the history made there. Next, came New York (which I will discuss in more detail in #4), and a drive up to Niagara Falls. After the falls, we went into Canada and reentered the United States at Detroit. There we toured the Ford Museum. All of that took five days.

4. The “Tour of New York” Trip – Technically, this is the “Speed of Sound” Trip, but it deserves its own number. By this time, I was the official navigator and map-reader, and this was my job as my dad drove through the streets of New York City. He wanted to see Central Park, so I got him there. As we went through the park, I set the map to the side and looked around. When we came out of the park, we began to notice a degradation of our surroundings. Cars were on blocks. Windows were smashed out of buildings. It looked like a war zone. I picked up the map and told my dad not to stop at any cost. Don’t stop at red lights. Don’t stop if someone walks in front of us. My dad was driving his Cadillac down the street that separated Harlem and the Bronx. His orders were to drive to Yankee Stadium as fast as possible and get on the interstate.

5. The “That’s A Big Hole” Trip – Like a lot of people, my dad always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, and he made sure to stop the first chance he got. We parked the car and walked to the edge. As we stood there my dad declared, “That’s an awfully big hole.” We replied that it was. Then, he asked, “Ready to go?” In unison, we said, “Yes.”

Everyone should see the Grand Canyon once. It’s one of those things that makes the American landscape what it is. But, I’m not impressed with it. I think that it may be too big to appreciate, but it is not my favorite natural wonder. My nephew camped in the bottom last year and said it was great. That may be true. Riding the mules or flying over in a helicopter may be great too. However, I would rather see a lot of things than stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon and look into a big hole.

I know. All of this sounds terrible, and you are thinking that we would have been better off at the beach. However, these bad experiences were few and far between and gave us great stories to tell at family gatherings. The road trips were great bonding experiences and gave me the opportunity to see things that many people do not. For that, I am eternally grateful. Therefore, I am going to end this post on a positive note and list my favorite historic sites and natural wonders. I owe my parents for the love I have for these places.

My Favorite Historic Sites

1. The Little Big Horn Battlefield – I have mentioned this several times in other posts and will not go into great detail here. Just know that this is the one place where I can mentally take myself back in time.

2. Alcatraz – The first time I saw it the prison wasn’t open for tours. The second time it was and proved to be an amazing experience. You haven’t done anything until you have stood in Al Capone’s cell.

3. Biltmore Estate – This is the largest privately owned home in the United States. Built by an heir to the Vanderbilt fortune, it is the perfect example of Guilded Age decadence. No castle in Europe has anything on this.

4. The OK Corral – Tombstone, Arizona is the quintessential tourism laden ghost town. It looks kind of hokey today, but it held an important place in Old West history as the location of America’s most famous gunfight. As a bonus, Ben Traywick, who is from my home county, is the unofficial Tombstone historian.

5. Pearl Harbor – Technically, I did not see this on a road trip. Even my dad couldn’t drive to Hawaii. However, this is a historic site that everyone should see. Walking onto the Arizona Memorial is a spiritual experience.

My Favorite Natural Wonders

1. Monument Valley – The banner at the top of this blog is a photo I took at Monument Valley. Those buttes have been shown in countless movies and have long been symbols of the American West. It sits in the Navajo Nation and serves as a reminder of what they lost in the United States’ drive toward Manifest Destiny.

2. Yellowstone National Park – There is so much in the park that it is indescribable. Therefore, I will boil it down to my favorite thing. There is nothing like waking up in the Old Faithful Lodge; walking onto the porch; and, seeing buffalo walk through the steam of the geysers.

3. Sequoia National Park – Imagine trees sold old that they started growing when Jesus supposedly walked the earth and so large that they look as if they had been constructed. That is the best way I can describe this park. I will leave out the time I got lost in it when I was two.

4. Bryce Canyon – This is a canyon filled with rock formations called “hoodoos”. They fill the landscape and make you feel that you have landed in another world.

5. Denali National Park – We did not drive to Alaska, but Mt. McKinley is the most amazing thing I have ever seen. We were lucky enough to view it on a clear day and see the peak. I have no idea how big the mountain is, but I know that it filled the landscape from miles away.

There you have it. My road trip adventures. Isn’t that better than a beach?

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My iPod Has Issues (Well, maybe it’s me.)

10 Dec

When people listen to my iPod, they immediately make strange faces and want to know why I would listen to something like that. I reply that I have eclectic musical tastes and that I believe that makes me a well-rounded person. They look at me like I’m some kind of idiot, but they can’t help but explore its deep recesses. That’s when I am usually told that they would rather just listen to the radio.

I understand that I am weird when it comes to music. I am part OCD and part schizophrenic. For example, I bought “Rolling Stone: 500 Greatest Songs of All Time” and became obsessed with having each song on my iPod. I don’t necessarily agree with the list, and it seems a little self-serving. After all, “Like a ROLLING STONE” by Bob Dylan is #1. “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” by The ROLLING STONES is #2. There is no way that two songs that include the name of the magazine should rank as the top two. Surely, there are tunes more deserving that include the names of another magazine.

Despite my disagreement with the list, I simply had to put the songs on my iPod. I already had a bunch, but I am currently on #445, “I Wanna Be Your Dog” by The Stooges. I figured it was financially prudent to download them slowly, so it has taken a while to get through it. This means that I have a lot of songs that I don’t particularly like, but I am learning some cool info and expanding my musical palette.

Therefore, while my tastes are schizophrenic the 500 Project causes the list to be more eclectic than it would naturally be. When I explain that nobody understands. In fact, they think downloading all of those songs is totally off the wall. Unfortunately, putting the iPod on random often proves them correct. Let’s try it and see. I will randomize the iPod and list the first 20 songs it plays.

1. “I Walk the Line” by Johnny Cash

2. “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel

3. “Wild Night” by Van Morrison

4. “Setting Sun” by The Chemical Brothers

5. “Get Back” by The Beatles

6. “Theme from Truck Turner” by Isaac Hayes

7. “When Doves Cry” by Prince

8. “Wonderful Remark” by Van Morrison

9. “Walk Away Renee” by The Left Banke

10. “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Idol

11. “Blow On ‘Em Baby” by Stacy Mitchhart

12. “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee

13. “Streets of Bakersfield” by Dwight Yoakam and Buck Owens

14. “River Deep, Mountain High” by Ike and Tina Turner

15. “Sugar Vols – 1985” by John Ward

16. “Star Trek Theme” by Alexander Courage

17. “The Final Countdown” by Europe

18. “Josephine” by Snooks Eaglin

19. “Osborne Interview (The History of Rocky Top)” by The Osborne Brothers

20. “Welcome to My World” by Jim Reeves

So, there is a small sampling of the 2,809 songs on my iPod. That 20 would force my girlfriend to jump out of my moving car.

In an attempt to get away from the randomness of it all, my musical guests limit their exposure by surfing my playlists. Their attitudes don’t get much better. My playlists are titled:

1. For God’s Sake – a list of religious themed songs (weird since I don’t believe in God. That is another subject for another post.)

2. Gridiron – a list of football based music and dialogue

3. Laugh Track – a list of comedy routines

4. Location Location Location – a list of songs with place names in their titles

5. Metal Shop – a list of hard rock and metal songs

6. Print The Legend – a list of songs from western movies or with western themes

7. Psyche Out – a list of songs that just sound weird

8. Something Wicked – a list of songs about Satan, Hell or anything in connection with them

9. Soul Train – a list of soul songs

10. Tennessee – a list of songs about my home state (You would be surprised how many there are.)

11. What’s In A Name? – a list of songs with a person’s name in the title

See. that’s pretty OCD and schizophrenic at the same time. What does your iPod sound like? Does it belong in the mental ward too?

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Boarding Mr. Peabody’s WABAC Machine

7 Dec

When I was a kid, “The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show” was shown in reruns, and I would often catch an episode or two. It wasn’t my favorite show by any means because Bullwinkle always drove me crazy. I think it was his voice, but it could have been any aspect of his goofy self. However, I was fascinated by Mr. Peabody and his WABAC Machine and the idea of going back to witness historic events. Obviously, I was a weird child to like the time-traveling, talking dog over the goofy, talking moose. Through the years as a historian, I keep going back to Mr. Peabody and thinking how cool it would be to actually be present at historic events. I have even been known to mention the WABAC Machine in class. I know the students have no idea what I am talking about, but they aren’t usually listening anyway.

Of course, time travel, as we know through countless references in popular culture, has it drawbacks. We could alter the course of history and change the world as we know it. That’s why I favor the “duck blind” method from “Star Trek”. Use a force field to hide a viewing station in the natural terrain. If walking about is needed, then use an individualized force field for hiding a protection. See, problem solved. All you have to do is combine the worlds of Mr. Peabody and Mr. Spock, and the problem is solved.

So, if I could board Mr. Peabody’s WABAC Machine to travel to a “duck blind” from “Star Trek”, then these are the historic events I would venture to see.

1. Montana Territory, 1876 – George Custer and the 7th Cavalry find their way to the banks of the Little Big Horn River. There they find Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse and hundreds of Sioux and Cheyenne warriors. The Battle of Little Big Horn does not end well for Custer and his men, but for the Native Americans it is a classic case of winning the battle and losing the war. After the defeat of one of America’s most famous soldiers, the U.S. Army makes it a point to bring an end of the Indian Wars. The battlefield is my favorite historic site, as I can sit on the hill and sense the history around me. It is probably the markers that designate the places where soldiers fell (although inaccurately) that make the battle easy to track over the terrain.

2. Dayton, Tennessee, 1925 – As a publicity stunt, leaders of Dayton arrest John Scopes of breaking a new law disallowing the teaching of evolution in public schools. The stunt gets out of hand when two of the nation’s most famous lawyers. William Jennings Bryan and Clarence Darrow, agree to fight it out in court over the difference between the creation story of the Bible and the theories of Darwin. It must have been a fascinating scene as a circus atmosphere descended upon the town. I love teaching about the Scopes Monkey Trial and have even taken a group of students to the actual courtroom to discuss it. I am amazed that 86 years later we are still fighting over the same issue.

3. The Moon, 1969 – Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin became the first people to walk on a celestial body that was not Earth. This is the greatest achievement in human history. Watching the astronauts leave the capsule and walk around would have been a literal other-worldly experience. Also, viewing this event as it happened would prove to the skeptics that it wasn’t faked. Next semester, one of our history professors is offering a class on conspiracy theories and why people latch on to them. You would be amazed at the amount of students who do not believe that the truth is known.

4. Maryville, Tennessee, 1974 – This event is on a more personal level. My dad used to sponsor a men’s slow pitch softball team, a hobby for which he was inducted in the Tennessee Softball Hall of Fame. His teams won 10 state championships, but the first came in 1974 against the Number 1 ranked team in the nation. Actually, I was there, but I do not remember it. I was 4 years old at the time. The game was close and came down to a diving catch for the last out. I would like to go back for several reasons. First, I would like to watch the game. Second, I would like to see my dad and all of the people who I know as they looked in 1974. Third, I would like to see what I was doing as a 4-year-old.

Those are my WABAC wishes. If I really had a machine, then I would go to those events first. Of course, I would not be able to stop there and would get addicted to the travel. I would also probably start messing up the timeline. Where would you go if you had access to the WABAC Machine?

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Guns ‘n Roses in Nashville

5 Dec

Axl Rose came to town last night with a band called Guns ‘n Roses. I bought the tickets with trepidation for a few reasons. First, it’s not really Guns ‘n Roses without Slash, but I saw Slash open for Ozzy Osbourne earlier in the year. Maybe seeing two separate halves makes a whole. Second, I bought tickets to see Guns ‘n Roses several years ago, and the concert got cancelled. Axl has been famous for his temperamental behavior when it comes to performing and buying tickets is like playing the lottery. With those things in mind, I bought the tickets anyway. I am a product of the 80s and an avid concert goer, so I concluded that it just had to be done.

My girlfriend and I met up with some friends for dinner and headed to the show that was listed to begin at 7:30. My friends were decked out in their Black Label Society gear and were fired up to see the opening act. Zakk Wylde is a helluva guitarist, and I was looking forward to see him as well. Just not as fired up as them. I have seen Black Label Society once at Ozzfest, and they have traveled throughout the nation as Society members. It was during dinner and the walk over that my girlfriend began to worry about the time she was going to have. She likes country, ugh, and any singer that wears a cowboy hat. But she was in it now.

It turns out that the musical style was not what she needed to worry about. We got to the venue at 7:25 and waited TWO HOURS for the concert to start. Apparently, Axl is still a flake when it comes to the fans. In his prime years, Axl would show up late or not at all. Now that he has reached his waning years of stardom, it seems that he continues with this behavior. Axl needs to realize that his fans from the 1980s are now in their 40s and have real jobs and responsibilities. They can’t hang out until 2am on a work night while he lounges backstage playing the role of a rock star. While the years since his greatest fame should have humbled him, Axl is still the diva he always was.

Before I go further, I need you to understand that I am no prude when it comes to concerts. I have lost count of the number I have attended in all genres possible. But, waiting TWO HOURS for a show to start is fucked up. I’ve never seen it happen before. Keeping it within Axl’s musical form, I have seen Metallica (multiple times), Aerosmith (multiple times), Godsmack, Ozzy Osbourne, Rob Zombie, Alice Cooper, Judas Priest, Motley Crue, KISS, Velvet Revolver (which was Guns ‘n Roses without Axl), and a bunch of others that I can’t remember at the moment. None of them were two hours late because they value their fans and the money they spent to see them.

At 9:30, Black Label Society hopped on stage and put on a great show. Zakk Wylde threw down the gauntlet to any guitarists who want to challenge him. They turned the volume up to 11 and ripped the knob off. My girlfriend even liked it. If this had been strictly a Black Label Society concert, then it would have been great.

During the stage setup for Guns ‘n Roses, my friend texted to say that he heard before the show that Guns ‘n Roses was going to play from 11pm to 2am. Seriously? On a Sunday night, they are going to play that late? I knew then that there was no way that I was going to be able to see the entire show although I had bought an entire ticket. I fixed in my mind that we would leave at midnight.

Just as the text read, Axl hit the stage at 11pm and proceeded to sing a bunch of songs that nobody knows. They were rockin’ and, he still had his voice and moves. But, people came to hear the hits. I understand that performers like to produce new material because it makes them feel like artists. However, older performers who have seen their prime pass by should understand that people want to hear the good stuff. When I saw Elton John, he called it the jukebox. Before he played the new songs, he realized that people came to hear something else and promised that it would happen. I am sure it gets old playing the same things over and over, but that is what pays the bills and keeps the people coming. It certainly isn’t anything off Chinese Democracy. In the first hour (the only hour we saw), Axl sang three recognizable songs, “Welcome to the Jungle”, “Live and Let Die” and “Civil War”. The highlight of the hour came when Axl left the stage and his guitarists put a new spin on the James Bond theme. Naturally, “Live and Let Die” came after that.

Needless to say, I was not happy about how things went. I have no idea what happened after we left. Did they play until 2am? Did they play “Paradise City” or “November Rain”? If the show had started anywhere close to the announced time I would know. Instead, I have now seen Axl Rose and the fake Guns ‘n Roses. Without a doubt, Slash is a better and more appreciative entertainer.

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Why is Starting to Write Always the Hardest Part?

3 Dec

As as a historian, there are two aspects to my profession. Obviously, we are expected to teach, and that is what I got into the business for. I really like to talk about history, and that’s what the classroom is all about. However, we are also expected to write and publish articles and books. This is where I am lacking. That may sound weird since I am writing a blog, but I am hoping that this will help loosen up my writing in other areas. I can never get started. I had a terrible time with my Masters thesis because I could never figure out how to start it. It rolled out as soon as I got going. I also faced the same problem with my Doctoral dissertation. So, here’s the question? Why is starting to write always the hardest part? Does the subject not inspire me enough?

I wrote a short story once. The whole thing just came to me all at once. It was running like a movie through my head, and I had to get it out. I wrote and wrote until there were 60 pages. It was about a couple whose daughter had been abducted and murdered. As a result, the marriage struggled until they moved to a faraway city. There he became a detective who specialized to finding lost children. I won’t tell the whole story here, but, suffice it to say, it was the only time I was inspired to just sit and write with the length and detail I need for my profession.

And, here is the thing. The story came to me while I was listening to one of my favorite songs, “Badge” by Cream. Each line led me to a different part of the story. I even used the lyrics throughout the story. They are not used in order. I took a song; rearranged it; and made something else out of it. If you don’t know the song, then here are the lyrics:

Thinkin’ ’bout the times you drove in my car.

Thinkin’ that I might have drove you too far.

And I’m thinkin’ ’bout the love that you laid on my table.

I told you not to wander ’round in the dark.

I told you ’bout the swans that they live in the park.

Then I told you ’bout our kid, now he’s married to Mabel.

Yes, I told you that the light goes up and down.

Don’t you notice how the wheel goes ’round?

And you better pick yourself up from the ground

Before they bring the curtain down,

Yes, before they bring the curtain down.

Talkin’ ’bout a girl that looks quite like you.

She didn’t have time to wait in the queue.

She cried away her life since she fell off the cradle.

I have no idea what all that means, and I don’t know where the story came from. I only wish that something could inspire me to write history as well as that song inspired me to write the story – the only story I have ever written. I even wish I could write another one of those.

In an attempt to find inspiration for another story, I downloaded an app called Inspiro. It comes up with phrases or scenarios to spark the imagination and maybe a narrative. However, it’s kinda dumb. As an experiment, I will crank up the “Scenarios” section and show you what comes out.

1. a sheep involved in a love triangle with a weasel (I wonder what the third animal is.)

2. a violent real dickhead sitting in the library next to your neighbor (This has possibilities for a serial killer story I suppose. The cause of death could be suffocation by condom.)

3. a real dickhead doing a slo-mo “beach run” towards a lighthouse keeper (A phallic symbol running toward another phallic symbol. The lighthouse keeper needs to hope that he is not the third in this love triangle.)

4. an Elvis impersonator loving a politician (Now, this has some possibilities. I imagine the politician being Nancy Pelosi, but she is beneath Elvis impersonators on the “importance to America” scale.)

Now, a few from the “Muse” section.

1. careless locksmiths with Danzig (Danzig was/is a great band. I can see locksmith’s losing their keys while jumping and shouting to “Mother”.)

2. lugubrious jackets up your ass and around the corner (What does lugubrious mean?)

3. potbellied spies possessed by a demon names Pazuzu (Hey, this is good. Think about an old Sean Connery and an old Roger Moore being taken over by demons and getting in a fight with Max von Sydow.)

4. mummified drawings as a punch line to a bad joke (What do you call Egyptian tomb filled with marijuana? High-roll-glyphics)

Not very inspiring is it? Maybe I’m still stuck with nonsensical lyrics to classic rock songs. But, what am I going to do about writing history?

The search for inspiration continues.

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