So our first day of the epic man trip chasing the blues trail ended in Starkville, MS. We had a dinner visit with Bert Montgomery, Minister of Mojo. Go ahead..check out his web link. He is a author, Christ-follower, and very much a swell guy. As Paulie said, "He is one of us".
The dinner conversation was great. We talked about our lives, our kids, and our faith along with the stuff that makes us who we are. It was just a couple of guys telling about what has happened on the way to where we are now.
Anyway, over dinner the Johnny Cash Flower Pickin' Festival came up. It is a Starkville event that commemorates a song Cash wrote called "Starkville City Jail". Of the nine places Cash was known to be arrested this the only place that compelled him to write a song.
Here is the USA Today version of what went down:
There are different versions of what happened the night of May 11, 1965, in Starkville.
One told by Cash himself in his autobiography is that he was arrested by police while walking from his motel to a grocery store after attending a party at a fraternity house on the Mississippi State campus.
Another version is that Cash was arrested while picking flowers in someones yard.
Cash admitted in his book, "I was screaming, cussing and kicking at the cell door all night long until I finally broke my big toe. At 8 a.m. the next morning they let me out when they knew I was sober."
Cash wrote a song about the ordeal calling it, "Starkville City Jail," and later performed it for the inmates at San Quentin Prison.
OK, back to me writing. Our friend Bert is also a Johnny Cash fan. He spoke at the second festival and actually wrote about it in his last book. Better yet, he got to hang out with the Cash family. Coolness.
Even better yet, Bert knows the dude who got the motel room Johnny Cash stayed in that night designated with a historic marker. Did we want to pay a visit? Oh, yes. Man, yeah! Text were sent. Messages were exchanged. Soon we were in the car on the way.
The University Motel is a relic. It is an old school motel with a neon light out front and a swimming pool in the middle of the parking lot. The only thing that has changed are the sheets, pool water, and the age of the staff. Welcome back to 1965.
The room was small and basic. Wood panel walls, a bed, a table, and the more recent addition of a mini fridge were about all it contained. I could imagine a young pro musician passing time in another town, in another room, laying on another bed with the car parked out front and he wishes the motor was already pushing for the next town down the line.
It really was a real true moment in another time. And these minutes spent in that little motel room were perhaps better than any visit to a museum built to tell the same stories. It was the real deal. I think Johnny would appreciate that. As I stood back and watched Paul make a short video interview of Bert I smiled and thought that this is some of that good stuff that happens when you are blessed and you just let it happen.
Thanks Johnny. Thanks Bert. We hope to return the favor. You are very much our kind of guys.