Highway 61 and the Crossroads
In high school, Chuck, a retired naval pilot and family friend who was into the blues, started sharing cassette tapes with me. I went with Chuck to see John Lee Hooker at Gabe’s in Iowa City when I was a 14, and we saw B.B. King two years later. Seeing those legends in person at that age was heady stuff: it helped explain the foundation of a lot of rock music (like Led Zeppelin) I was listening to at the time and pointed me down the path of righteousness. So many of the blues legends and foundational figures were born in Mississippi—places like Clarksdale and Indianola—that I knew I would have to check it out for myself someday.
Then there was the mystique of the South. If you didn’t grow up there or have a reason to travel through, your perceptions have been largely formed by history, literature, and culture. It all felt foreign and a bit foreboding to someone from the upper Midwest, a region whose historical relevance and cultural output paled in comparison. The legacy of slavery, Civil War, and ensuing decades of Jim Crow and racial terror shaped my perception.
Last, the legend of the crossroads, where a young Robert Johnson purportedly sold his soul to the devil in exchange for prowess on the guitar, casts a long shadow. The fact that he died, poisoned by the jealous boyfriend of a woman he pursued, after making just a handful of recordings, only added to the legend, as did mystery on the whereabouts of his final resting place. These sorts of stories are foundational in culture and music.
All of these elements create unattainable expectations about a place and the experience you’ll have by visiting. Such destinations don’t reward a quick drive-by and photo in front of a landmark. If you want to really get a feel for these places, you can’t do it by looking at the trees rushing by outside your car window. It requires you to get out of your comfort zone, something that doesn’t come naturally when you’re in an unfamiliar place. This episode chronicles a trip to chase the ghosts of Highway 61 and the small, unexpected moments that fill out the picture.
