Article by Preston Lauterbach
Photos by Justin Fox Burks
As you know, we here at Backroads deeply value the unmarked landmarks of our grand music history. Owing to the Bluff City's unparalleled legacy as a foster of talent, Memphis, Tennessee contains more than its share of homes where the giants of blues, soul, and rock-n-roll were born, first masturbated, developed a taste for fried banana sandwiches, learned music, wrote unforgettable songs, and died. Too often, we arrived late to our appointments with historic structures and elderly folks, finding they'd gone before we fully realized they were among us. We vowed that it wouldn't happen again if we could help it, and went to find as many hidden landmarks as we could before the wrecking ball, kudzu, or crackheads with matches could beat us to them. Click on the pics for a closer look.
First, we give you the birthplace of the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin. When I say birthplace, I mean, Aretha's mother pushed Aretha out of her own body and into the world on a kitchen table inside this very house, at 406 Lucy Avenue on March 25, 1942. Take note of a few of the home's prominent features. First, it's abandoned. Second, it's dilapidated, and I would say uninhabitable if there weren't the obvious signs of squatters present inside. Third, it lacks any mention of its significance to history. Now can you imagine this happening to one of the founding fathers of our nation? Or a grand figure in American letters? Even the little shack in Tupelo, Mississippi where Elvis Presley was born has a historic marker and a tour guide to take $10 from you and point at the two rooms inside.
The neighborhood is rundown, but the neighbors are friendly, and they don't need a historic marker to know who's house it was.
Next, behold the boyhood home of Booker T. Jones at 666 Edith Street. It's about a block from a great story of resurrected history, the Stax Museum of American Soul Music, built on the vacant lot where Stax Records once stood. Anyhow, you get a feel for the proximity of young Booker T. to the studio. He hung around the Satellite Record Shop adjacent to the recording studio until he caught on as a session musician at Stax. There he helped lay the foundation for Southern Soul. Visitors to the museum should visit this site to develop a greater feel for the roots of soul music that a museum just can't convey. By the way, Aretha's birthplace is under a mile from here, other side of McLemore Avenue and Stax.
The home was for sale a year ago. I'm told that the board is actually a good sign, indicating that the owner hopes to keep harmful influences out. It did look like some work was underway. Though a visit is recommended, the timing is very important. The earlier in the day, the better.
The property below hosted a gifted and important artist in her twilight. The great Memphis Minnie spent day and evening in her wheelchair here on the front porch at 1355 Adelaide in South Memphis.
It's been available for sale for quite some time with no takers. Squatters have invaded it, too. The neighborhood scuttlebutt has it slated for demolition, though I'd guess the earth will claim it before the bulldozer does.
Minnie retired to this address after her girlish days ended and a stroke pretty well laid her up. A relative took care of her until the wild one moved on to a rest home and then died in 1973. She knew few peers as one of the champions of Chicago blues in the 1930s. She died penniless, in fact she lived penniless for the last decade of and a half of her life. Her grave sat unmarked until admirers fixed that situation years after her death.
Finally, one of the more tragic tales of rhythm and blues began here at 899 Ferry Court, a short distance from the Booker T. Jones and Aretha Franklin homes. It began with dreams and ended quite prematurely with a gun. Here John Alexander Jr. grew into a young man whose stage name Johnny Ace lived in the breath of teenage African American girls in the early 1950s.
His hit songs included "My Song" and "Pledging My Love." Like other ambitious black artists of his day, Ace toured constantly. The rigors took their toll on his psyche, causing exhaustion, depression, drug abuse, and violent behavior. The vicious cocktail frothed over on Christmas night, 1954 in Houston, Texas. Backstage, he toyed with a pistol in the presence of three friends who say that he pointed it and pulled the trigger at two of them and then himself. It only went off once. He now rests among other fallen greats of Memphis music.
The home is still in the family and because of that has remained in good shape. His niece Michelle lives there now, and didn't seem accustomed to visitors, though she welcomed us. The house is as it was in Ace's heyday, right down to the details:
Stay tuned to Backroads for more hidden history and unmarked landmarks. And if there's something you'd like us to find and shoot, drop a line and let us know.
Special thanks to Justin Fox Burks for his superb work.