The Como Chronicles
or
Everybody Hollerin' Slick

This year's quest to find the real Blues took shape by degrees. At one time there were five or six of us descending upon the Holy Lands Where Blues Began but little by little it came down to Boberdz and myself being escorted with great skill and tact through a maze of backcountry roads and non -touristo juke joints. Per normal, nearly every best laid plan fell to the fates and reconcocted itself az it needed in order to provide the story that lays on the screen before you, gentle reader.

As noted, the Tweedboard Regular and champion speller Boberdz and myself were going Crusading and agreed to meet at Memphis International Airport. He travelled via white Toyota and I opted to fly in a Delta airliner and as it turned out the fastest way to get 900 miles or so iz by the jetliner. We figgered this out without the help of the infamous WestGinny SlideRule and as a result of these findings, the Boberdz has declared he will fly to Memphis on future excursions.

I had just stepped out the door after getting my suitcase and spied the him at the wheel and even without BluesLady's Official Magnetic Tweedsblues.Net Sign, which the post office saw fit to delay shipping in time, I had no trouble identifying him az there was a piece of white paper with the letter "T" stuck to the passenger window. A funny thing about meeting Tweedpeople for the first time, they turn out to be exactly as you'd figgered them to be and we fell in as though we'd known each other for many years.

The Holy Land

First thing on the list was to call Mz.Darlene or Mama Slick as she is sometimes known and get directions to the lodgings in Senatobia which we did and started down I-55 out of Memphis. Senatobia is an old town and lays close by the 51 Highway but we took the Interstate to make some time and get our headquarters set up quickly. I would recommend the Motel 6 there on Main Street and the I-55 interchange for great lodgings at a reasonable price. The place is darn near new and not much like most Motel 6's I've been in.
We got our rooms and found Mz. Darlene, who is also exactly az we'd imagined from her posts on the Tweedboard. she is a fire haired woman with a big smile and more get up and go than most people and we follow her down to Como and the Windy City Grille for some lunch. Como is a small town with a lot of fine houses and a few businesses on their main street. One of these is the Windy City Grille set in an old brick building,both long and narrow in it's construction. It's been completely renovated with hard tile floors and perhaps the original woodwork reworked. Very friendly and comfortable place and with good food as it turned out as well. This is where Slick's gig was to be Saturday nite and they'd put a big sign in the window declaring "THE RETURN OF SLICK, SATURDAY NITE!" I figger the sign to be a sign that Daniel iz somewhat well received in these parts which waz spot on it turned out. After lunch/dinner we headed out to the country to see Anna Jean.

Anna Jean is married to one of Mr. Othar's sons and they live just outside of Como. We found her and her children and some grandbabies on the front porch enjoying the fine Mississippi afternoon.
Mama Slick!! How are you and where is our Daniel at? O, it's good that you're back again! When are you going to come to stay with us?"
I should say that this is pretty much the way that Darlene is greeted everywhere she goes down there. Everyone seem to like her and young Slick pretty good without exception. Me and Boberdzrzz got introduced and received good hugs from Anna Jean who is a beautiful woman that smiles and laughs often. There is much talk of news of happenings since the funeral of Mr. Othar and of the upcoming trip to New York for Sharde, Othar's grand-daughter who will play fife at a large "Year of the Blues" event.
I go down to the yard to investigate a blue haired little dog that resembles a possum somewhat. In fact, Boberdz and me decide it must be at least half or 3/4's possum and he iz able to coax it close enough to touch it while it runs from me, which I find curious since I, unlike the Boberdz, do not eat possum at all. There are four horses in a good sized corral in the back and Othar's coon hounds, which are good dogs and do not howl and carry when they see us. Mr. Othar seems to have taught everything and everyone the right way of doing things while he was on the earth.
The women finish up their visit and Darlene promises that Slick will be out to see everyone tomorrow and there is talk of fife and drums for the next afternoon. Hooooo, yes..I was hoping this would come to pass and it seems it may very well happen and I am struck senseless.....more senseless than usual anyhow....

Down the road we go and Mz.Darlene points out Othar's house. It sits just off the road and there is barbed wire running the perimeter of the property now. Darlene frowns and sez "They must've tore the front porch off since the funeral", and there it is laying in a pile by the road. ...
I feel that she is saddened looking a the pile of debris and from seeing Othar's house boarded up and empty now. Last year, Slick came to stay at Othar's and spent the whole summer picking peas, mending fences, feeding animals, fishing, hunting and playing blues. Othar had taken him around everywhere (after the chores, of course) so the people could hear Slick play and this is how everyone has come to know him and Mz.Darlene.
Next to Othar's is where young Sharde and her family live. And the welcome there is no less than at Anna Jeans. Sharde guesses that she's excited about playing in New York but asks if we want to hear her play on the piano, which of course we do and she plays some real nice slow blues on a little electric piano set up in the family room. I ask her if she mebbe play a tune on her fife and she does that too. It's very good to listen to and the little cane fife was given to her by Othar. I hold it in my hands and see how he burned out the inner pulp and burned the finger holes with a red hot steel and wonder who it was that figured out how to make the first fife in the world. Mebbe it was Mr.Othar himself.....mebbe he was older than what he let on.

We don't stay for long az they must get Sharde ready to go to New York the next day and we have another stop before we're finished. Back on the winding road we head to Othar's daughter Betty's house where the reception is happy and loud and with much hugging as is the custom in rural Mississippi. Betty is a very jubilant woman and we meet Bobbi also who'd been kind enough to send me a note thanking me for a card I'd sent while Othar was in the Hospital. I'd never figgered in my wildest dreams that I'd ever be able to meet any of these nice folks but here we were, listening to Bette's account of the Handy's and of Sharde leading a fife and drum group across the stage to honor her Grandfather. She said they did a good job and had large projected images of him cast on the backdrop of the stage during the tribute. Othar didn't win his category it turns out but nobody seems cranky about it, which I figure is indicative of the style and class that these folks exhibit in most things they do. Othar's influence on all his children is evident everywhere and there is great joy and little saddness when they tell stories about his doings and his ways.
We take our leave and get more hugs and good wishes and go down a little way to see an empty house that Darlene has learned of. It's a fine looking house and would be perfect for her and her boys. While we inspect the outside and marvel at an aircompressor set up near the septic tank, the next door neighbor comes out and we say hello and what we're doing there. He gives us some lowdown on the place and explains the deal with the aircompressor, which serves to breakdown the solids quicker az there is little percolation in the hard clay so they make it easier for the microbes to chomp it up before spraying it on the yard out back. He asks where we're from and what brings us to Mississippi and we tell him we've come to see Slick play in Como. "Musicians? Are you all musicians too?" sez he. "I used to play all the time and worked down at Stax when it was still a record company." Turns out this man's name is Tex and knew Steve Cropper and all them guys down there. Even had put together a stratocaster one time with a single pickup and sold it to Steve Cropper for 40 dollars back in the sixties. He's good guy and has read about Slick and Othar in the Senatobia Democrat. We tell him to try and come to town tomorrow nite and hear Slick and he says he'll try to make it. Tell's Darlene to bring Slick to his place sometime cause he's got a houseful of fiddles, guitars, and even an upright bass. You may run into just about anybody out in the country it seems. Tex is very cool and friendly.

Back in Memphis, We Get Forty-fried at Wild Bill's Juke Joint

Later after a couple hours rest and regroup time at the rooms, we all head up to Memphis and the famous Wild Bill's JukeJoint. Mama Slick led us to this very fine establishment by way of many side streets and I don't believe I could find it again without a map if I had to. As it turned out, Bobert and I had a hard time finding our way back outta there in the wee hours, our brains being somewhat scrambled by the experience there.
A strip mall loomed out of the darkness with a grocery store at one end (with the word KILL, handlettered on the plywood door) and Wild Bill's Juke Joint sitting just about in the center at #1580 Vollintine in midtown Memphis. Upon pulling into the parking lot we're directed to a couple of open spaces near the building by the official greeter. A gentleman who through some mishap iz missing several front teeth and has a baseball cap set at a jaunty angle to one side of his head.
"Don' worry bout yore cars people, I'll deep an eye on 'em for youall..."
"Ahhh...Good! Thanks man."
"Could you give me a little bit? Just soze I can get me a cold one for the store fore Ol' Bill wake up?" I am looking puzzled I reckon, not on account of the remunerative request but from the allusion to the sleeping Wild Bill so he points and sez, "There Wild Bill...See him?"
I follow his gesture and there in a Cadillac (I thinkit was a Caddy) keeled over in the seat at an extreme angle waas a huge ancient man in a dark suit and fedora, who sat there so still I at first thought he had left the world for the Celestial JukeJoint. He surely did not appear to be very danged Wild at the moment anyhow, but the look on the chief valet parker's face gave me reason to believe that a guy that big could do some damage if he was awake and pissed off, so a couple bucks were dug up and handed over and he was glad of it. He did a good job too, because az it turned out, absolutely nothin' was messed with on either of our cars there. In truth, Wild Bill's viewed at nite is a little bit dauntin' at first glance whether you happen to be black, white, red, brown or yellow, but our experience (and every other account I've listened to) is that once inside, everything's cool and it was.


Bill's is not the Celestial Juke Joint but must be very close to it. The walls are painted a soothing bright red and plastered with various signs, official Tee-shirts, and ob corse HotChicks Beer Posters, donated by the beer distributors who supply this establishment with probably thousands of quart bottles (they call 'em FORTYS) each week. Christmas tree lights are strung around the walls and ceiling for subdued illumination and give the room a homey sort of atmosphere.
We are early thanks to our very fine tour guide, Mz.Darlene, who knows how this place will fill up, and we get a table against the wall facing the band stand. Each table is set up with small, perhaps 6-oz drinking glasses and we order our first "40" of the nite and Mz.Darlene holds court. People come over and say "Hello Mz. Darlene, Where's Slick? Is he coming to play tonite?" And Darlene tells them all that Daniel's on his way from N.C. He's just finished his high school exams this morning and will drive straight through (over 800 miles) to make this gig. She is concerned and worried about him I think from the way she watches the doorway, as Mom's will get that way and she is a good mom who has carried Slick back and forth across country to play in the Holy Lands of the Blues for the past couple years. This is the first time he's made the crossing on his own and she's not real comfortable with the idea yet.
The Hollywood Allstars are the house band at Wild Bill's and I understand that the lineup changes from weekend to weekend. The band tonite began arriving and getting setup and tuned and plugged in while we order more 40's and the place fills up. Wild Bill has awoken and comes to our table for the five dollar cover which we fork over to the huge man in the hat. He goes to each table in the rapidly filling room and collects the money slowly and deliberately and everybody seems happy to give it up. With a long look around to be sure no one was missed, Bill goes to his stool by the door and takes his place for the remainder of the evening.


The band fires up and is blasting us with fantastic beat laden blues. There's a keyboard guy tonite along with a sax player in addition to the drums, bass and guitar player (who plays an old Epiphone "Dot" that stays in tune all nite long somehow!) People get up to dance, and at Wild Bill's Juke Joint that means they ALL get up to dance. The floor is jammed with bodies doin' that Juke Joint thing. All sex and shake and shimmy. I am in heaven and wish I was a dancer so I could get up there also. Luckily there is no whiskey served at Bill's or I would no doubt have thought I was a dancer. These folks don't stop for much except when a song ends and then it's just to have a sip or two of their beer and then it's back at it. Looking around I notice that Bobert haz been dragged up on the floor though and he cuts a pretty fair rug for an old white guy wif a pony tail! Good fun, good fun.
After about a 45 minute set the band takes a break and go outside to cool down a little. This makes it a little easier for the servers to get to the tables with more 40's and baskets of food. We got some barbecued wings that were extry large and real good and of course more beer.
When the 10 minutes or so allotted for a band break is up Wild Bill brings them back in by beating on the drums with his huge hands and iz very effective too az they came back in a hurry. According to Darlene, this has always been his custom and works better to my thinking than some dipshit MC whining over a PA system. They fire it up again and the dancing bodies are everywhere. One guy who's about 6'8" in a red suit and red shoes has a deal going on and has some cool moves goin' on but iz so cool that their ain't nobody dancing with him. Darlene sez sometimes he'll swing his leg over seated peoples' heads and to watch out for that if he decides to.

Another guy does this thing where he turns 90 degrees after every other bar of the song and does a kung fu motion. He is pretty close and I'm set to take a shot in the head every time he gets back to the 6 o'clock position but he's pretty good at it and I'm not knocked outta my chair all nite. There is another break and more forty's are brought out, the wing bones are taken away and Wild Bill beats the drums again. It's getting later and still no Slick and Darlene is gettin' real concerned now. About halfway through the first number of the second set in he comes with that hat set on the side of his head and a big grin on his face.

Bill, who appeared to be almost ready to nod off a few seconds earlier, gets up and grabs Daniel and dances with him and is transformed for a little while. People on the floor are hollerin' "Hey Slick, 'Bout time you got here. Let that boy play! Let him play!!"This kid, who just drove non-stop from North Carolina gets his guitar and immediately goes into driving deep Delta style blues like it was nothin'. He does things to the audience, they holler out responses, they clap, dance, the women shake it at him and fan their faces with both hands. Nobody sits still while he does what he does. I look over at Bobert and he's got this big smile on his face and I'm saying "I told you, I told you!" as loud as I can. It's an amazing evening and more fun than should be legal to have. I hope they never figure out a way to control this and put taxes or restraints on it.
We hang out for another set, and notice that it's either 3 o'clock Memphis time or 4 o'clock EastCoast time and decide it's time to head back to Senatobia while we're still able to. The way is not clear however and Bob and me and the faithfull Toyota end up on the Northside of Memphis someway but find the interstate extension and decide to follow that til we find I-55. If we'd stayed a little longer we could have used the sun to guide us, as it was the moon came up in a giant red crescent but we were beyond knowing which direction the moon came up at that point and it proved useless for navigation. We did manage to find I-55 after an emergency piss-call in the warehouse district wherein yore heroes were seranaded by packs of watchdogs as we let loose a number of 40's at the side of a boarded up building. Mz.Darlene, being the good guide she iz managed to leave Bill's precisely in time to get in front of us as we came around I-240 to get on I-55 and we followed the Buick with a messed up taillight back down to Senatobia.