04-17-11 - His life was a golden gamble

01-17-11
Seven-eleven he rolled,
And all his life was a golden gamble.
106 miles
I left Rosedale (The Great River Road State Park) around 9 am and headed to Cleveland for the morning’s McInternet session. Then headed down Highway 61 (It’s easily done) till I got to Shaw where I found a sign that said “Indianola - this way!” (I added the “This way”part)
It was SR 448, a Quick Stop gas station on the left and checked for direction. Not only did I get directions, but I got GAS! The prices (all Along Highway 82 for that matter) were so much lower than the rest of the state. Only $3.58 (compared to $3.65!)
I followed the directions I’d been given and found the B.B. King Museum (closed on Sundays) and then got lost looking for the Café Ebony. Luckily.
Luckily, because, in my dead reckoning down and west of B.B. King Road I accidentally came upon B.B. King Park! I had not Idea it even existed.
I backtracked to the museum and though the club must have been in the other direction. I come to a sort of old downtown area that I think might be the place. I see a Blueswalk placard for B.B. stating that it was his “Favorite Corner” and the place he got his start. (I didn’t see until later that his footprints were there as well!)
I ask some guys on the street where I can find the street Café Ebony is on. I’d passed it.
The street name changes over the railroad tracks. On the side I was on, it was called Depot St. I’d have never have found it.
And I’d expected ti to be this big “Cotton Club” type deal. But it was this green shack that looked like a BBQ joint (It may well be).; But it’s history can’t be diminished by it’s plain exterior. Like the Golden Bear in Huntington Beach, the list of people who played there is living history. Fortunately, the people of Indianola didn’t tear it down for a McDonalds and some crappy tourist shops just to pad their pockets with cash, like the city fathers of Huntington Beach did. (Angry, much?)
Anyway, I left Indianola having found way more than I’d expected.
I headed west on 82 toward Greenville and Arkansas. I was tempted to take a side trip to Holly Ridge to find the grave of Charlie Patton, but since the material I was working from was so vague (and didn’t even list the cemetery’s address or name) I decided to head west and be happy to pass thru Leland to see the placard for Johnny Winter (which HAD an address!)
The rest of the day was entering Arkansas and stopping at the Welcome center for their state map and any camping guides I could find. (I got a bunch). The attendant was less than attendant at first but then became very friendly talking about history and the lake and other things and then went back to his earlier demeanor. (Was it something I said, or was his reserve of energy depleted in a short period.)
I got the directions to Lake Chicot State Park and headed east along the curve of the lake. It is a very picaresque lake and I enjoyed seeing the houses along the way, passing by the little town of Village Lake, seeing all the little boat houses alon….wait…what was that?!
No. It can’t be!
A placard for Lucky Lindy. Charles A. Lindbergh.
I had to go back.
Indeed. What was he doing in Arkansas?
He landed here.
And I remembered Jimmy Stewart…The Pride of St. Louis.
I took my pix and thought of all the lucky accidents of the day.
As Ferris said: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”