Home of the Blues: Discovering Clarksdale, Mississippi

A road trip to Clarksdale, Mississippi isn’t at the top of many people’s travel lists, but it should be. Clarksdale is in the Mississippi Delta, also known as the Home of the Blues because blues music originated here. Black sharecroppers living in poverty expressed their pain through the music which eventually spread across the country and beyond.

Shack Up Inn

We arrived in Clarksdale, Mississippi at night and squinted to navigate the completely dark, unpaved road. It was surrounded by nothing but a few shacks and run-down buildings that couldn’t come close to breaking up the flat expanse of land. The dampness in the air and complete quiet disturbed only by the chirp of crickets made Clarksdale feel distinctly Southern.

My friend and I checked into the Shack Up Inn, a group of shotgun houses where sharecroppers used to live. The houses are kept mostly in their original form. We took this road trip to see the “Home of the Blues” and indulge our affinity for all things off the beaten path, but not without some apprehension. Still unsure how we felt about the commercial use of former sharecropper homes that are reminiscent of an ugly history, we got ready for bed in preparation for the next day.

Antique blue buggie car on a grassy field with a blue wooden shotgun house in the background — Shack Up Inn

Wooden cabin lit up by green lights at night — Shack Up Inn

Downtown Clarksdale

The next morning, as we walked the streets of downtown Clarksdale we were acutely aware of the lack of life. We didn’t see even one person walking the streets. The buildings had lost their life, too. Storefront signs in retro script hung over boarded up businesses with chipped paint and weeds growing out of cracks in the cement.

In towns like these, you’ll usually come across one of the few operating businesses and realize all the action is happening there. On this June morning in Clarksdale, that business was a breakfast spot that we found on Yelp called Yazoo Pass. Walking into this modern, somewhat hipster cafe was like stepping into another world, completely unrelated to the one we just left.

After breakfast, we stopped by the visitor’s center which is housed in an old Greyhound bus station. A white-haired man with a kind smile welcomed us. We asked if the Freedom Riders stopped at this station (they didn’t) and for some information on the history of Clarksdale.

He told us to go talk to Rat, who has lived in Clarksdale all his life and can tell us anything about the history. Excited and a little nervous to meet someone named Rat, we walked the few blocks to the historic Riverside Hotel where he stayed.

The porch of a brick house with a vintage sign reading Riverside Hotel and various dirty chairs.

That feeling of apprehension returned as we stepped onto the wrap-around porch with rusted benches and random junk displayed as if everything is there for a purpose. I started to wonder if this was real or just an attraction for tourists. Dismissing that thought, I opened the screen door and knocked.

After a few tries, we decided Rat wasn’t home and moved on, our curiosity unsatisfied. Although we didn’t get to meet him, I recommend anyone who visits ask about Rat—let me know what you find!

Hot Tamales at Abe’s BBQ

One thing we had to cross off our list was to try the hot tamales, which we ate at Abe’s BBQ. Hot tamales are a Clarksdale tradition, but no one is exactly sure how this came to be. The most widely accepted theory is that Mexican migrant workers brought them to the region’s cotton plantations in the 1900’s and Black sharecroppers started to develop and pass down their own recipes. Delta tamales are smaller, filled with spiced cornmeal instead of masa, and simmered instead of steamed like the Mexican version.

Red’s Blues Club

You can’t visit the Home of the Blues without at least one night at a juke joint. On our first night, it was Red’s Blues Club. Our eyes had to adjust to the darkness lit only by an intense wash of fluorescent red.

A blues musician playing guitar in a blues club lit up by fluorescent red lights.

We discovered that red isn’t just a color scheme for the bar, it’s the name of the owner and bartender. A tall, pear-shaped man wearing sunglasses inside, Red served us $2 beers and the music began.

A musician sat on a stool in the middle of the room with his guitar, looking exactly the part of a Mississippi blues man. Like Red, the woman from the front door wasn’t just bar staff. In Clarksdale, everyone seemed to have multiple roles. She took the mic and sang as the man picked at his guitar strings, the slow-paced, relaxed notes of the blues.

Ground Zero Blues Club

The next night we decided to visit the Ground Zero Blues Club, well-known because of its famous co-owner, Morgan Freeman. One section of the club is covered in signatures of patrons all over the walls and on any available surface. With only a ballpoint pen available, I did my best to make my name stand out among the scribbles.

Woman writing on the wall of a bar, fully covered with signatures and graffiti.

Smiling woman sitting in a blues bar with busy walls and multicolored string lights along the ceiling.

I’ve seen a few places you could call ghost towns, but Clarksdale is unique. The musical history of the Mississippi Delta draws people from all over the country, but the racial history and poverty tell a very Southern story. They make Clarksdale haunting and lonely, yet soulful and beautiful.

All photography by Alycia Janifer