—The Crossroads – Clarksdale, Mississippi—
—Stop #2—
After leaving “Little Zion M.B. Church” in Greenwood, Ms. We headed toward Clarksdale, Mississippi. Specifically, “The Crossroads.”
The trip to Clarksdale took around 45 minutes.
There are several places thought to be “The Crossroads,” where “Robert Johnson” met the devil and sold his Soul in exchange for becoming a Master at the Guitar and Song Writing.
It is widely accepted, though, that the Crossroads at the Intersection of Highways 61 and 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi is the place.
There was already a legend that if you went to the Crossroads on a Moonless Night at Midnight and recited an ancient incantation, the devil himself would show up to offer you a deal.
The “deal” was always the same; You would get what you asked for in exchange for your Soul.
Johnson longed for Fame and Fortune and was willing to make a deal.
Some retellings of the story say that Johnson, on a moonless night and at the stroke of midnight, recited the ancient incantation calling on the devil.
The devil then appeared and asked Johnson what he wanted.
Johnson told the devil what he wanted, and the devil took Johnson’s Guitar from his hands and tuned it. The devil then handed the Guitar back to Johnson, sealing the deal.
I have a hard time believing things like that, and I’ll tell you, as I did in my last post, I don’t believe it.
Many eyewitnesses knew Robert Johnson and said Johnson was no good at the Guitar—at first.
They say Johnson dropped out of sight and was gone for several months.
When he returned, he was a master at the Guitar and The Blues. This helped start the legend as it was an answer to “how” Johnson got so good, so fast.
Johnson himself seemed to enjoy the legend, even writing about it.
Either way, here I am at the Crossroads.
Three huge Novelty Guitars are placed on a pole at the intersection, marking “the spot.”
Traffic goes on as I look.
The sounds of people bustling about going from place to place are heard.
The wind blows in my hair.
I check the area out, trying to imagine what it looked like back in the ’20s and ’30s. At Midnight. On a Moonless Night.
I say a Prayer to Jesus, exhale, and snap a few pictures.
My Brother, Dad, and I then walk into “Abes,” a BBQ Joint on the corner of the Crossroads.
