Memphis

I’ve returned from Memphis, where I had a blast. Stayed at the famous Peabody Hotel. If you’re not familiar with the Peabody, you won’t know—as I didn’t—about the tradition of the duck march. Every morning at 11, the doorman brings the hotel’s ducks down in the elevator, and marches them along a red carpet, to the tune of a Sousa march, to the fountain in the center of the lovely lobby. The ducks then spend the day in the lobby, till 5, when they are again marched down the red carpet into the elevator, and back up to their penthouse roost.

I also got to spend a wonderful evening on Beale Street, which bills itself as the home of the blues. I think I could spend the rest of my life on Beale Street. The best act of the evening was an 18 year old guitar prodigy named Corey Osborn, performing at B.B. King’s. This kid—look at me call him kid—this man is within easy reach of being as good as Stevie Ray Vaughan. He is simply incredible; his version of Hendrix’s “Red House,” was particularly awesome. I’m certain he will be a star very soon, and I strongly recommend giving him a try. (But, my god, he was born in 1986!)

I also got a chance to see the National Civil Rights Museum, which is on the site of the hotel where Martin Luther King was killed in 1968. The exterior of the hotel is perfectly preserved, and it’s rather eerie. Unfortunately, the museum doesn’t have much else in the way of original items—mostly photographs and things. But it had some very interesting video. Two I found especially touching—the one about Eisenhower calling out the Army in Little Rock was the first. I think Eisenhower did exactly the right thing, at a time when it would have been easy to back down. He showed genuine conviction and leadership—much more so than Kennedy, who I believe made the Meredith case in Mississippi far more complicated than it should have been. He should have followed Eisenhower’s lead, and didn’t until things got far too out of hand.

The second thing I particularly enjoyed was the display about lunch-counter sit-ins. In one video, a distressed, overweight woman, perhaps 45 or 50, talks to the press about her son being jailed for participating in a sit-in. She’s crying and laughing at the same time, and she says, “he said ‘be cool, mama.’ I thought that was so amusing.” The immense pride and fear in her voice was extremely moving. Her son is a genuine hero to her, you can tell. But all he did was sit at a lunch counter. The lesson to take from this: we all have it in ourselves to be somebody’s hero. It doesn’t take much—just the will to do it. But once you do it, it kindles a flame that is in almost everyone’s breast, and it gives them the energy they need to live, rather than merely to exist.