BLACK AND BLUE
“Searching for the last of the Delta Juke Joints”
I can remember the first time I stepped foot into a juke joint in Memphis, Tennessee. It was an unassuming, red wooden storefront in a residential neighborhood, with a hand painted sign above the door that read “Wild Bill’s Live Entertainment”. Little did I know how this would change my perception of the blues forever.
Juke joints date back to the mid 1930s. They sprung up along the Mississippi Delta after the emancipation and catered to the rural workforce, black plantation workers who were barred from white establishments. They were a gathering place set up in ramshackle buildings where people came to drink, eat, dance and listen to blues music.
Memphis is no stranger to these informal social clubs. It’s the home of places like Big S Grill, Bottoms Up Lounge, Earnestine and Hazels, Gandy’s Prime Time, His and Hers Lounge and the quintessential juke joint, Wild Bill’s.
Wille “Wild Bill” Story, opened his first club, in a suburban neighborhood, in the 1960s. He relocated to North Memphis in the 80s. When the new owners, Michelle and Ray, took over a few years ago, they repainted the sign and added a mural of the infamous owner, who had just passed away.
When you step inside, you can expect a cloud of cigarette smoke glowing red from the Christmas lights, along with red painted walls that are covered with snapshots of Willie, posing with friends and patrons throughout the years. You can grab a 40oz beer or mixer, and listen to the band until 3am. Most importantly, you’d better leave your hang-ups at the door, because you’ll most likely be asked to dance by a stranger, who will probably not take ‘no’ for an answer.
Many of the original juke joints in Southern Tennessee and the Mississippi Delta have shuttered. Some of the original owners have passed away but, others closed due to a significant shift in society. Namely, the elimination of segregation laws that initially forced people into these hole-in-the-wall clubs.
Today, less than a handful remain open in the Memphis area. Luckily for cultural historians like myself, most of them are still sitting on their respective street corners with faded hand painted signs and the faint smell of chicken wings.
(Originally published in US of America Magazine, Issue no.3)