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We have entered a distinctly different part of the United States, the South. We are not from the South. The closest I came to the South was growing up in Arizona which was held by the Confederate Army for a few short months and we’ve visited New Orleans.

While its true we just spent three months wandering around Texas, which was part of the Confederacy, the real story in Texas is about its ten years as an independent country. During our time in Arkansas we were aware of its history but it wasn’t still alive. The Civil War, or the “War Between the States” as they call it down here, seems so long ago—yet its effects remain palpable in Memphis, Tennessee.

Memphis is often called Bluff City because it sprawls along the Lower Chickasaw Bluff on the east side of the Mississippi River. The first Memphians to alter the landscape moved in around 1000 AD. Called the Mississippian culture by archaeologists, they built large platform mounds throughout the area east of the Mississippi. The culture ‘disappeared’ around 1550 AD., although like the Ancestral Puebloans of the Southwest perhaps they just dispersed into other tribes, like the modern Choctaw or Chickasaw people.

Hernando de Soto, a Spanish explorer came to the area near present day Memphis in the 1540s on his quest for gold. The French actually were the first Europeans to settle on the bluff when they built Fort Prudhomme in the 1680s. The town of Memphis was officially founded in 1819 by Winchester, Overton, and Andrew Jackson (the man on the twenty dollar bill).

I keep running into this Jackson guy so here are a few key tidbits about him. When Jackson was running for President his opponents referred to him as ‘Jackass’, so Jackson used a jackass as a symbol during his campaign. Apparently, it worked because Jackson took office in 1829. Jackson was the last U.S. President to have fought in the Revolutionary War and he was the only one to have been a Prisoner of War (so far). His reputation as a fierce fighter earned him the nickname Old Hickory. His contempt for Native Americans showed even back then since he slaughtered all that he came against.

Jackson’s most dastardly deed (in my humble opinion) was his Indian Removal Act of 1830 which began the forced migration of Native Americans now known as the Trail of Tears. As a politician he was known as a ‘polarizing figure’; his own Vice President (Calhoun) resigned in 1832 because he could no longer tolerate Jackson. Perhaps you can tell I am not a Jackson fan.

We stayed at the 1,138 acre TO Fuller State Park, the only state park in the city of Memphis. The park, on the south side of town, was established in 1933 as the second state park in the nation open to African Americans. On the park grounds is the Chucalissa Indian Village, a large Mississippian mound complex. Chucalissa is a Choctaw word meaning abandoned house. The village was discovered by the CCC in the late 1930s while they were excavating a site for a pool. Although the museum is on the park grounds, the site is run by the University of Memphis. At the park we were less than ten miles from downtown and Graceland—yet culturally we could have been in another world. And it wasn’t a wealthy, glamorous one.

First stop in Memphis was the National Civil Rights Museum which occupies the Lorraine Motel where Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was shot on April 4th of 1968. In honor of Dr. King and his life’s work, the museum chronicles the history of the fight for equality beginning in 1619 when the first African slaves were brought over to America and continues on up to modern day struggles.

Already in awe, I was even more amazed by Dr. King when I learned that he skipped both 9th and 12th grades, entered Morehouse College at the age of 15, graduated, was ordained, and became an associate pastor by the age of 19. At the ripe old age of 26, King received his PhD. His faith, oratory skills, and unwavering belief in equal rights propelled him to a leadership role during the Civil Rights Movement. Although his “I Have a Dream” speech and his “Letter from Birmingham Jail” are probably the most famous of his writings, Dr. King’s last speech, “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” is my favorite. To stand in the same building, to see the photographs, to hear the speeches, to learn more about the struggle, and to know that all is still not equal was very emotional and frustrating.

Ever noticed who humans choose to assassinate? To quote George Carlin, the comedian:

It is always the people who have told us to live together in harmony and to try to love one another: Jesus, Gandhi, Lincoln, John Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Medger Evers, Malcolm X, John Lennon.

I wonder why that is? Why are people so afraid of that message?

I won’t get into all the conspiracy theories regarding some of these deaths (especially JFK’s). It is interesting to note that Dr. King’s family won a wrongful death civil suit against Loyd Jowers and other unidentified parties in 1999 even though Jowers was not the man arrested and convicted for King’s death.

The nearby Arcade Restaurant, the oldest in Memphis, provided a much needed respite from the heavy thoughts of the afternoon. After a delicious late lunch, I had about an hour before my bus arrived so I explored more of downtown.

On my way downhill to the Mississippi River I passed two small green oases, the Confederate Park and Jefferson Davis Park. Although the green space is much appreciated the names caught me off guard. Though important historically it seems the names would be an affront to the majority of the city’s population, which is not white. Wouldn’t honoring people and events that fought to keep slavery legal be like a slap in the face?

Painfully aware that I am white and therefore automatically better off than most of the residents of Memphis, it seemed to me that the city was still segregated. My African American bus driver wouldn’t let me on the bus until I assured him I knew where I was going and yes, I really did want to go there.

After a short stay in the solidly built State Park bathroom, courtesy of a Tornado Warning we were more than ready for our weekend.

Our weekend began with a tour of Elvis’s house, Graceland. South of downtown on Elvis Presley Boulevard the National Historic Landmark was smaller than I expected. Of course, it must have seemed huge to Elvis when he bought it in 1957 at age 22 for $100,000. The audio tour narrated the various rooms of the house and outbuildings. The most impressive of which is the Trophy Room which displays all of the King’s many gold, platinum, and multi-platinum records and three Grammys (won for his Gospel recordings). It is floor to ceiling shiny records!

The upstairs which has Elvis’s bedroom and bathroom, where Elvis died in August of 1977, is open to family only. After passing by the Presley family graves and leaving the grounds, we toured several of the Graceland museums related to Elvis (his cars, his planes, his stage apparel). The more we learned the more we understood Elvis to be a shy little boy who had never grown up.

Above all, we learned what he did for music. Elvis grew up poor and marginalized in Memphis, so he spent a great deal of time around black musicians. Elvis took many of those same songs and some of that distinctive sound and made it fashionable, which helped many black musicians cross the color barrier of music. For that he earned my respect.

Last several Elvis thoughts to leave you with: One, Elvis impersonators are now referred to as Elvis Tribute Artists (go figure). Two, Reese’s is bringing out a limited edition Elvis Cup this summer, Peanut Butter and Banana, get it while you can. Three, Lance can’t stop calling him Pelvis (because of his gyrations). Update: The Elvis Cup has been spotted! Get one while you can…

Speaking of black musicians, of course we went to Beale Street. The street, now known as the Home of the Blues, was originally called Beale Avenue. The name was changed in 1916 after W.C. Handy’s song “Beale Street Blues” became popular. The avenue was the main commercial district for African Americans from the early days of the town up until the 1960s. Walking the street it reminded us of New Orleans. B.B. King has a club on Beale Street because that is where he got his start so many years ago. Memphis claims three kings: Elvis the King of Rock n’ Roll, B.B. King the King of the Blues, and Johnny Cash the King of Country (one of my all-time favorites) who all got their starts there. No wonder Memphis is mentioned in over 400 songs, more than any other city in the world.

Just a block south is the Gibson Guitar Factory which gives tours. The guitar is one of several instruments that Lance plays so we took the tour. Since it was a Saturday none of the luthiers (instrument makers) were working, but the tour was still informative. Amazing the sound that can be made from a couple pieces of wood (maple-poplar-maple, heat and pressure glued together).

All Gibson guitars are hand-made (except for one small step which is automated) and all are hand-painted, so no two are ever exactly alike. It takes the luthiers about three weeks to complete one guitar. After its final ‘manicure’ the instrument is played by expert musicians; if it doesn’t sound right, it gets destroyed (after they salvage what parts they can). The factory has a five percent error rate, that means one out of every twenty guitars never makes it to the sales floor. Of which the factory has a large one, in case you are tempted after the tour.

Without any large purchases we headed east to Chattanooga.

Bonus Photo: Erin clowning around in A. Schwab store on Beale Street.

Photos: View our photographs from Memphis, Tennessee.

Notes: We stayed in Memphis, Tennessee from 04/01/2007 to 04/07/2007.