I don't even know how to write about the Mississippi Delta

Mississippi is pretty much a foreign country to someone like me.  I have no idea how to talk about race and poverty and privilege without sounding really ignorant and dorky, so I'm just going to write my impressions as best I can.  People, both black and white, have been friendly to me, but a lot of times I can't understand what they are saying at all, and I have to ask them to repeat themselves.  Their accents sound really pretty, not like any southern accents I have ever heard.  I guess this shows how sheltered I am.  When I think of Mississippi, I think of a place where people have been killed for registering to vote, for registering other people to vote, for speaking up, for acting friendly towards another person.  People are always talking about the "culture" or the "southern culture" and I wish I could figure out what that means.  It seems like there are three almost totally separate cultures.  One is heinous culture, frankly.  That's all I can call it.  It's the one I refer to as a "gracious way o' lahf," and involves torture, murder, sexual violence and pretty much any other crime you can think of with almost total impunity. It's still around, because there is at least a whole generation alive that remembers it vividly, and it seems like there are quite a few people who still think that way.  It is completely impossible for me to imagine that mentality.  The men who tortured and killed Emmett Till weren't young thugs in their 20s.  They were family men with children of their own.  I guess it's like trying to understand the Nazis.  But would Germany put the Nazi flag as a mini-piece of their new national flag?  I don't think so?  But every time you look at the Mississippi state flag, you see the Confederate flag.  I just can't get my head around it.

 It was really challenging to find Money, Mississippi.
It's not even visible on my Google maps.  But it was
on the Mississippi Delta paper map, the one with
the famous Blues landmarks on it.  Bryant was the
name of one of the two murderers of 14 year old
Emmett Till.  He was a kid visiting from Chicago, and he just didn't believe that he would get in trouble for being friendly to a white woman.  He said a few friendly words to her, possibly including, "Bye, baby" as he went out.  Her husband and his half brother kidnapped him and took him to the store, then out to a remote location where they tortured him to death.

His mom insisted on having his body brought back to  Chicago, where she not only had an open casket funeral, but allowed photos of his body to be published in the media.  The two murderers were acquitted in about an hour by an all white jury.  I guess you could say Emmett Till's death was not in vain, because they say it sparked the Civil Rights movement.  Rosa Parks said the reason she refused to give up her seat on the bus, exactly 100 days later, was because "I thought of Emmett Till."

The second culture here in Mississippi is based on a community of people who spent hundreds of years in captivity, poverty, oppression.  They have churches full of music, strong families, and some kind of resilience that I also don't understand.  I am so incredibly privileged that I can't even begin to understand what it's like to live with segregation and racism.  I have had a couple of conversations with people, where I have to ask them to repeat themselves a lot, about how the separation continues.  One lady said, "Maybe we'll even have a separate heaven and hell after we die."  She recalled picking cotton when she was young, having to work from sunup to sundown, teaching school for 30 years and only having maybe 5 white kids in her class in that entire time.  Anyway, I don't want to romanticize black people down here, or put them into some big category.  I feel really ignorant, and at a loss.  I do like blues music, however.  

 We had a lot of fun driving down Highway 61, looking at the crossroads where Robert Johnson is supposed to have sold his soul to the devil, visiting the BB King Museum (which is like having BB King take you on a tour of his life, because he obviously helped design the museum and he is still alive).  It was just as great as the Woody Guthrie center in Tulsa, with interactive exhibits, little films with interviews from all these musicians who were influenced by BB, lots of headphones where you could listen to his music, and so forth.  The whole blues culture came from the culture of poverty and      suffering in the south, and I guess it was considered mainly "black" music for a really long time, which is why Elvis was so important.  BB King was even more important, when he started playing for white hippies in San Francisco and introduced them to the blues.  From that introduction has come the third culture of Missippi that I observed today.  Well, and I guess from the Civil Rights movement.  This is the culture where the two cultures meet.  The cooking is one thing:  did you know that the Mississippi Delta is really into tamales?  There are like 9 or 10 tamale restaurants in Greenville alone!  Everyone has his or her own special tamale recipe.  It goes with barbecue.  Wait, I got off track with the food. And I didn't even start talking about the barbecue.  As Bill Clinton said, it's not just a food; it's a way of life.  Now that's the way of life I'm talking about!  Mmm!  After the museum, we went to this tiny little place and this white guy that I couldn't understand at all made us a plate of pulled pork and potato salad and sauce and beans and toast, and another plate of tamales, and YUM!

 Dang, I just got sidetracked again.The point is that I guess some well-meaning white people want to get to know black people in Mississippi.  Not all white people down here are full of creepy hatred. Some have died because they tried to help out during the Civil Rights movement.  For instance, there was this lady from Detroit, an Italian-American mother of five, Viola Liuzzo, who was shot by the KKK while she was helping to drive marchers from one place to another during the Selma-Montgomery march.  I thought a lot today about Paul Raymond, who came down here to register voters and was beaten and arrested himself.  He taught me about Emmett Till, and about the blues (he was the first one to play "Strange Fruit" for me and explain what it meant) and he wore silk shirts like BB King.  

There are some weird byproducts of this third culture that some might say are in poor taste.  For instance, there are these "Tallahachie Flats" that tourists can stay in.  They are replicas of sharecroppers' shacks, except with indoor plumbing and air conditioning.  And I assume there aren't any red ants and other pests crawling around inside.  People who drive down the Blues Trail (highway 61 and its environs) in their rental cars can stay there, for a lark.  Can you also have, for an extra fee, people dressed in white hoods come and terrorize you, for a lark?  It just seems excessive.  Especially when literally just across the road are actual wooden shacks and run down trailers where people are really living.  We saw a lot of poverty today, that's for sure.

We are staying in the casino hotel, where we got to play craps with some locals and chat with them (I guess Matt finds it easier to understand people, since he used to live down in Macon, Georgia), and now there is a huge thunderstorm. The last impression I want to share of the Mississippi Delta so far is that it is really out in the middle of a remote area.  There's not a lot around.  Just a lot of farms and dirt and cotton and little tiny towns with what seems like a big gap between rich and poor, which I guess is just like the cities in the US. I wish I could spend more time here getting to know people.  Like I said, I don't even know how to write about this foreign country that is Mississippi, but I look forward to tomorrow, when we go even farther into the Southland!

Visions of Memphis

We have been in Memphis for two days now, and we have done everything that they tell you to do.  It is a great city, really fun and easy to walk around, lots of exciting music, great food, and some sort of silly stuff too.

GRACELAND, home of Elvis Presley, a man who was truly a Vision of America.  The mansion itself was decorated by Elvis, with tacky 1970s decor including green shag carpet on many of the ceilings.  We saw hundreds of gold records and music awards, and dozens of his white suits.

This was my favorite room, with the stained glass peacocks.  

 And of course, Elvis' Cadillac (that he bought for his mama) was a delight.  When my kids were little I used to tell them, "Kids, Elvis bought his Mama a Cadillac.  Elvis loved his Mama.  Do you love your Mama?"

Elvis bought Graceland in 1957 the same year that Little Rock Central High School was integrated.  What did Elvis do, as a white southerner, during this time?  What did he believe?  I had heard a rumor that he was racist, but after doing some research, I don't think he was (at least not in the way that a lot of people were).  Elvis was a white man singing "black" music.  Many historians argue that Elvis helped blues and soul and motown music to get airtime by "white" radio stations.  He grew up as a poor southerner, listening with fascination to black musicians.  His first record had "That's All Right Mama" on the B side. He listened to the "colored" station in Memphis, and attended its fundraisers after he became a celebrity (often he was the only white guy at the event).  He was friends with BB King and went to Beale Street to listen to him.  He was REALLY good friends with James Brown, who was apparently so broken up when Elvis died that he just sat in the corner and cried during the viewing of the body at Graceland.  I found a couple on interesting articles about Elvis and civil rights/racism that I will put links to here:

New York Times Op-Ed piece about Elvis and racism

Article about a University of Florida professor whose 1997 book touts Elvis as a "Civil Rights Pioneer"

Like Elvis, Graceland was a Vision of America:  tacky, overpriced, a little bit depressing, super popular, full of souvenirs made in China and fatty food.  A very important place of pilgrimage!  Elvis died of binge eating, diet pills and crash dieting; he alternated between eating huge fatty cheeseburgers and trying to fast and eat only jello, while taking diet pills.  It was a pretty sad ending for someone who had been such an iconic and talented performer.  I prefer to remember Elvis not as the fat guy in the white suit, but as the young, energetic and amazingly sexy dude from the movies, especially Viva Las Vegas with Ann Margret.  Can you tell from the clip below that they were having a torrid affair?  I sure can!

Watch their incredible hotness 

Also like Elvis, we went to Beale Street that night, to listen to fantastic blues music and eat fried catfish, red beans and rice, hush puppies, and so on.

Beale street is the most "iconic street in America" according to USA Today, and it definitely lived up to its name.  I really felt like I was in Memphis!  The band played Muddy Waters, Wilson Pickett, and everything you would want them to play.  And really well.

On Saturday, we spent pretty much all day at the newly re-opened and remodeled National Civil Rights Museum.  It is located at the Lorraine Motel, where Dr. King was shot in April of 1968.  

Please don't think I'm shallow, but here is Dr King's fine Cadillac

The museum was great, except for the really short cords they  had installed on the audio listening devices.  It took you through the entire American Civil Rights movement, with huge rooms and interactive displays for each of the major events/places, like the violence in Birmingham, the school integration struggles (it had a whole exhibit about the integration of Ole Miss, and how the governor personally blocked the way to the registration office when James Meredith tried to enter.  Orval Faubus didn't even do that.  President Kennedy had to send federal troops down to assist him in registering.  For the March on Washington, you could pretend you were standing in the crowd, and press buttons to hear the various amazing speakers, although you did have to crouch down a little bit because the audio cords were so short.

In case you think everything is peachy today, an incident took place just last month in which three 19 year old freshmen put a noose and a Confederate flag on the James Meredith statue that stands on the University of Mississippi campus.

The university will press criminal charges.

Something else I learned at the museum:  Tony Bennett was among the singers who went down for an impromptu performance on the third day of the Selma-Montgomery march.  I was pretty impressed by that, since I think of it more as a sort of Peter, Paul and Mary type thing to do. But good old Tony Bennett.  Here's a little clip of an interview I found with him and Harry Belafonte.

Listen to their memories of those days.

I don't know why Elvis didn't go with them!  But he did do things like attend "colored day" at the county fair, which I guess is doing something in his own way.  He did it his way.

Standing at the spot where Dr. King died was, of course, very meaningful, but it didn't have the same emotional impact for me as the other day when I was at Central High School.  There were hundreds of people milling about, taking photos, talking and laughing, pointing at the spot where James Earl Ray stood (you can also go across the street and see where he was and read all about the manhunt, the various conspiracy theories etc.) that it was just...what it was.  But it did get me really eager to visit the actual sites of these struggles, like Birmingham (where the KKK especially enjoyed blowing up buildings, churches and children) and the Edmund Pettus Bridge, which is now a national historic landmark with all kinds of spots to stop along the way.  We are on our way to Mississippi today, a state where you could be killed for registering to vote, or helping people to register, not so long ago, to visit the place where a 14 year old boy named Emmett Till died.

We walked back to our hotel along the muddy Mississippi river.  

A Day with Bubba and "Nine Humble Children"

We spent the morning at the William Jefferson Clinton Library and Museum, and of course it made me love Bill and Hillary more than ever, and it even made Matt like Bill a little bit, although “not as a person.”   The library sits on the banks of the Arkansas River in Little Rock, with a magnificent, modern building and beautiful grounds.  We saw the requisite model of the Oval Office, letters to and from such celebrities as Mr. Rogers, Dom DeLuise and Sheryl Crow (all praising and supporting Bill), Hillary’s Christmas gown, memorabilia and gifts from his time in the White House.  My favorite part was the audio tour, narrated by Bill himself in his scratchy, boyish voice.  The introductory film was also narrated by Bill. 

One interesting comparison with other Presidential Museums I have seen: there is usually a whole room, or series of displays, on the First Lady – the gowns, the jewelry, the important issues she supported.  Betty Ford on the ERA and breast cancer; Rosalynn Carter and mental illness; Mamie Eisenhower’s hair style, and so forth.  But there really wasn’t any separate space for Hillary in this museum.  They only had one of her dresses, and the whole section on the White House was all about “Bill and Hillary” planning the décor, the themes, receiving the guests etc.  In the “early years” section, Bill did tell the story of meeting Hillary at law school, and repeated his oft-repeated line that she is “the most interesting person I know.”  In my opinion, they were really trying to downplay her role as “First Lady,” perhaps in order to leave room for other roles she has played (or hopes to play in the future): US Senator, Secretary of State…President of the United States?   

The Clintons are wildly beloved in Little Rock, and the love was definitely infectious.  I heard words of praise for Bill spoken by everyone from Nelson Mandela to the lady who ran the bed and breakfast we stayed in.  The Clintons were fantastic, kind neighbors, brilliant, hospitable, and fun to be around.  Bill could talk to anyone from the secretary of the United Nations to the poor tenant farmer.  He could explain his policies, listen keenly, and laugh uproariously.  I was reminded of the government shutdowns of the mid-nineties and how Bill faced them down, of the creepiness of Newt Gingrich and Bob Dole, of the intervention in Kosovo, of the forgiveness of the debts of developing countries, of the respect the United States enjoyed during Clinton’s presidency.  Arkansans want Hillary to run, but they also feel protective of her, and are worried about the attacks she will inevitably face.  Apparently Ken Starr can’t set foot in Arkansas to this day; nobody will serve him at restaurants and “he might be able to stay at a chain hotel, but nobody else would put him up.”  I found myself hoping more than ever that the Clintons might be back in the White House in 2016!

Maybe this will apply again!

On a side note, I also learned that Mike Huckabee is universally despised in Little Rock, and that his wife is considered to be one of the most horrid, shrewish women ever to walk the Arkansas soil.  Unlike the Clintons, who flung wide the gates of the governor’s mansion to Christmas carolers, neighborhood children and local Arkansas artists, the Huckabees slammed them shut.  Bill had collected original paintings and first edition books by Arkansas artists and writers; Mike gave them all away to a big donor and wallpapered over the bookshelves in the library in the governor’s mansion with wallpaper that looked like books!  The state police had to be sent with a warrant to the donor’s house to reclaim the property of the people of Arkansas!  I love stories like that.

Just on the other side of Daisy Bates Boulevard sits Little Rock Central High School, where nine incredibly brave kids started school in the fall of 1957.   

The Arkansas National Guard, as directed by Governor Orval Faubus, blocked their way.  Central High School was the top white kids' high school in the city; it's still the top high school in the state.  As we drove up, I realized that the National Historic Site was actually aattached to a normal, big high school, just like any other high school in the country: African-American kids, white kids, Hispanic kids, just walking around carrying their books and backpacks, talking in groups, all with their phones out, just hanging out like segregation had never happened.  It was stunning.

As you all probably know, President Eisenhower had to send federal troops, the 101st Airborne, down to Little Rock to protect the kids from the angry mobs who threatened them.  These mobs were so violent that the police were scared of them.  They beat up a bunch of journalists who had come down to cover the crisis.  The visitor center had all the TV footage that everyone watched; it was one of the first big TV events, where the entire country could see the incredible violence and hatred of the segregationists up close.  There were also audio and video interviews with the kids, parents, bystanders, journalists, etc.  The worst part was the harassment, the bullying that went on every single day those kids were at the school that year.  I always thought about the early days, the way the governor ordered the door blocked, the angry mobs, but for some reason I thought it just ended when the federal troops arrived.  I thought things died down and went on like normal.  I didn't think about the way they were hit with rocks or baseballs in the head during PE class, kicked, threatened, insulted.  One girl, Melba Patillo, had acid thrown into her eyes during chemistry class. Others described urine and feces being put into their lockers on a regular basis, so they had to keep their books with them all the time.

I stood on the grounds of the school, thinking about how much courage it must have taken for those kids, when "normal" high school kids have social anxiety about being accepted, being liked, being a "part of," and the Little Rock Nine spent that entire year being basically tortured every day, but they kept going to school.  The following year, the governor closed the school completely for a year, and the struggle kept going.  Two of those kids, as adults, don't even live in the United States.  However, in 1999 they were all awarded the Congressional Gold Medal by (who else) President Clinton at a White House ceremony.  This is the highest civilian award the US can present, and it has only been given to 300 people in this nation's history.  Twelve years earlier in 1987, for the 30th anniversary of the crisis, Clinton invited the Nine to the governor's mansion and showed them around the rooms where Faubus had plotted to keep them out of school.  I had started crying while watching the video of the ceremony that was showing at the Clinton museum.  I broke down once more as I stood on the steps of the school, remembering the bravery of those kids in the face of such hatred.  Finally, we visited the state capital building, where there is a graceful sculpture of the nine children, and I cried again.

 Like being on a Civil War battlefield, being on a Civil Rights battlefield is a lot more potent for me than just hearing the stories.  

Here are a couple of links: 1) An Interview with Melba Patillo Beals about her book, Warriors Don't Cry, which she finally published in 1994 and 2) The full video of the Congressional Medal Ceremony, both somewhat long but well worth watching if you have the time!

Taking the Waters

When I was little, I used to watch a short film called "The Cure" staring Charlie Chaplin.  Click here to watch the whole movie, only 19 minutes long.  It came out in 1917, and tells the story of a drunk (one of Chaplin's favorite vaudeville roles) who goes to a spa to "take the waters" and dry out.  Hydrotherapy was a popular cure for centuries, for everything from syphillis to alcoholism.  Bill Wilson, the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, tried "hydrotherapy and mild exercise" (AA Big Book p. 7) when he was at the Townes Hospital, and said it helped him.

Today, we were at the historic "Bathhouse Row" in Hot Springs, Arkansas, a town that used to be a magnet for people seeking all kinds of cures.  People used to drink the water, bathe

in it, and undergo a variety of wacky water-based treatments.  The temperature as it flows out of the ground is around 140 degrees, so it has to cool somewhat before it is used, but bathing in and drinking the water is still a pretty popular activity around here.

In a bunch of 19th century novels, people try to get cures for syphillis especially with these sorts of healing mineral water treatments.  After penicillin was discovered, the popularity of the springs fell off, and Hot Springs because a den of gangsters like Al Capone for a while.  They ran gambling operations and other criminal activities out of the town, until they were run off and ended up in Las Vegas.  Now the town is sort of limping along with attractions like the second-rate wax museum and pirate-themed mini-golf.  Nevertheless, we decided to try a day at the spa, to see if the mineral baths would work wonders on our road-weary bodies.

Here is the link to the National Park at Hot Springs

We sat in the waters, drank the waters, and got massaged and scrubbed just like Charlie Chaplin.  Of course, at the end of his short film, his booze is accidentally added to the spring water, making everyone really enjoy drinking it!  That didn't happen to us, but by the end of the day were were definitely refreshed and sort of detoxed, I think.  I said, "Now we should eat a refreshing, light organic salad accompanied by a berry smoothie!"

Of course, I told you in my last post how Hot Springs is also the hometown of Bill Clinton, and how his favorite restaurant was McClard's Barbecue, so guess where we went?

Read all about McClard's Barbecue

It was pretty good, although I have to say that Bite Me Barbecue in Wichita was way better.  The sauce was great, however. 

Tomorrow we will follow Bill into Little Rock to visit the Presidential Library and Museum (the second of this trip) and some other important sites.  

Unexpected Hippie-dom in Northwest Arkansas

I was told by Daniel Sparler that I had to visit Eureka Springs, a town founded by hippies, full of liberals, gays, magic crystals, great restaurants and Bed and Breakfasts.  It was true!  We stayed there for two days, arriving during their first of THREE Pride weekends!  On the front page of the local paper was a story about two guys who owned a glass jewelry store and were celebrating their marriage after 17 years together.

We didn't do much in Eureka Springs except visit the very haunted Crescent Hotel, allegedly one of the most haunted hotels in the US.  Read about America's most haunted hotel!
Apparently, the hotel used to be a bogus cancer hospital, where patients were kept prisoner and tortured.  It was like something out of American Horror Story, that show I was too scared to watch.  I got a pedicure at their spa, which used to be the bowling alley, and got out of there right quick.  They were also having an Earth Day fundraiser haircut-a-thon and bake sale, so Matt got his hair cut and bought a couple of cinnamon rolls.  We walked around the lovely streets and shops, and had coffee with Tom Morris, Arkansas resident and friend of Daniel.

I still hadn't really seen a lot of typical southern stuff, but once we started driving down highway 7, the oldest scenic byway in the US, I did see a bunch of houses flying the Confederate flag and a lot of churches with names like Jesus' Holy Name Pentecostal Church, but of course we didn't stop to talk to any of the folks.  We just kept driving, listening to old-timey gospel music to feel the mood of the Ozark mountains.  I did see a giant Bill Clinton head chainsaw sculpture, which was very lively and heartening.  Not sure I'd want it in my yard, but maybe.

We are now in the town of Hot Springs after a delightful drive.  This is the old bathhouse town, where people came from miles around for the healing waters, just like in "The Cure" starring Charlie Chaplin.  Tomorrow we will take a tour of the original bathhouses, and then enjoy some of the healing waters ourselves, before perhaps eating at Bill Clinton's (former) favorite restaurant (before he became vegan).  I wonder if he ever cheats.  Cheats?  Get it?

My first Civil War battlefield, and a striking chapel in the woods

We left Bentonville after a relaxing morning, driving along highway 62 towards Eureka Springs.  As always, I check the route to see if there are any points of interest – historic, quirky, natural, food-related – along the way.  There were two places I wanted to check out on this short trip, only about a one hour drive, along the shore of Beaver Lake, to the artsy little town founded by hippies, home of B and Bs and romantic getaways. 

The first stop was Pea Ridge, home of the largest Civil War battle fought west of the Mississippi.  I know I said in my sabbatical application that I would be visiting Civil War/Civil Rights sites, but I must admit I was less than enthused about the visit.  I always think military history is sort of boring, sort of (this is going to sound really sexist) a “guy” thing, with the War College and reenacting battles and discussing the various strategies.  Who cares, when all these people are dying senselessly? Whenever I am teaching about the Civil War, I just want to talk about an overview (like the north actually had factories to build weaponry, whereas the south did not) and read some poetry or inspirational songs.  However, I decided to visit my first real actual Civil War battlefield, maybe talk to some reenactors,  and maybe get a feeling  for the place, and boy, did I ever.  It was a lot more emotional and striking than I ever thought it would be.  Now I feel like an expert on the battle of Pea Ridge, so I am probably going to go on and on about it, and if you are like me (the way I was before visiting) you’ll probably be really bored and spaced out.  Because reading the story of a battle, or even hearing it told to you, is not at all the same as being there, standing in the place where American boys fought and killed each other in a field.  But here goes:

Missouri was a highly contended state.  As many of you know, it was a slave state, but it was also one of the few slave states that remained loyal to the union and did not secede.  Just like Kentucky, Maryland and Delaware, loyalties were sharply divided.  However, a lot of Missourians were “rebels” and joined the Missouri State Guard,  which wore these special silvery-white uniforms.  Who knew?  Anyway, the Confederates even added an extra star to their flag after that army won a couple of battles.  Also, the Cherokee Nation got involved at this point, with two regiments fighting for the South.  Even though the great Cherokee leader, John Ross, was pro-Union and anti-slavery, many of his fellows listened to the promises of the Confederacy saying they would restore their land (HA), and joined the rebel army, even going so far as to burn John Ross’ house at one point. 

The US appointed a general named Curtis to go down there and defeat the rebels in the West, keeping Missouri on the Union side and also protecting the Mississippi river.  He had about 10,000 troops, half of whom were pretty recent German immigrants from Iowa, Illinois and Indiana.  His second in command was a German by the name of Franz Sigel, who had fought in the revolution of 1848 in Germany (on which side?  I have to look it up.)  Sigel was sort of a dandy (apparently he was delayed on the morning of the 7^th because he was finishing up a fine hotel breakfast in Bentonville), but also an artillery expert, and would be crucial to the victory at Pea Ridge.  Literally half the Union army here was speaking German.  Meanwhile, commanding the Southern army was Major General Earl Van Dorn, who had foppish locks and a Colonel Sanders type beard.  He fancied himself a bold, glorious leader and I think this would be his downfall.  Hubris, as usual, destroys more leaders than anything else.

Curtis started digging earth works to set up the artillery

(the North always had WAY more artillery than the South.  Do you know how many munitions factories the South had?  Zero) but meanwhile, Van Dorn had this brilliant plan to go around to his rear and surprise him.  He had about 16,000 troops, so he outnumbered the Yankees, but when he snuck about half the force around the back, he was marching them so fast and for so long that they became exhausted.  Also, they had to leave most of the supplies (including a lot of extra ammunition) behind.  This turned out to be a HUGE mistake.  Half the army stayed behind, under the command of this Scottish guy, McCulloch.  The next morning, McCulloch thought it was a good idea to go scout out the enemy’s positions, not realizing there were a bunch of Union troops stationed in the woods.  They just picked him off, and also killed his lieutenant, so the other half of the army (including the 1000 Cherokee troops) pretty much just sat there for the entire day without a leader.  By the time they got the message to come to the aid of Van Dorn, it was too late.

That evening, March 7 1862, Van Dorn’s aggressive charge was successful, although he was held off by a small group of brave Iowan Germans (about 600 vs. 6000) for a short time.  This used up even more of his ammunition (remember, he left most of the ammunition back there to the west side of the field).  That night, Van Dorn was able to take over the Elkhorn Tavern, which had been a Union stronghold, that night.  However, casualties were heavy on both sides and the Missouri troops were exhausted.  Van Dorn received a message that night as he lay in a field outside the tavern that McCulloch had been killed. He sent word that the rest of the troops should come asap, but it was too late.  Early in the morning of March 8, Curtis attacked, assisted by Sigel’s crack artillery, and triumphed for the Union.  Van Dorn had run out of ammunition, food and other crucial supplies and had to flee.  Van Dorn himself was never trusted again by his troops, and “killed by a jealous husband” 14 months later.  Curtis and Sigel were both promoted, and Missouri remained a Union state.

The losses in this battle were 1100 Union soldiers and about twice as many Missouri Confederates.  It was really intense to stand right outside the Elkhorn tavern and imagine the troops rushing at each other amid flying bullets and cannonballs.  Kids the same age as my son Jack and younger, killing each other - I shed some tears as I stood there.   In 1914, survivors from both sides returned to Pea Ridge.  Together, they erected a monument to the dead, and stood together, remembering their fallen friends. 

Part of the monument bears the following poem as an inscription:

The graves of our dead with the grass overgrown

May yet form the footstool of Liberty’s throne;

And each single wreck in the war-path of might

Shall yet be a rock in the Temple of Right.

May it be so.  As we drove away, we had a lively discussion about why people would want to reenact battles of the Civil War.  I thought maybe I understood a little bit better; maybe people wanted to get closer to the dead soldiers who had struggled and suffered and died.  Matt said he thought it was just a dumb weekend hobby.  The jury is still out.  I didn’t see any Civil War reenactors today, but will keep looking.  

Read more about Pea Ridge National Historic Site

We then continued our drive to Eureka Springs, stopping to visit Thorncrown Chapel, an amazing structure designed by the famous E. Fay Jones, not to be confused with Pacific Northwest painter (and NWS grandma) Fay Jones.  Fay Jones is a gal and E. Fay Jones is a guy.  Plus, E. Fay is an architect and Fay is a painter.  Hopefully you’ve got them straight now. 

We arrived at Thorncrown Chapel, which has received many national and international architectural awards, just as a big tour bus of older ladies was arriving.  Oh no, I thought, I wanted to have a moment to myself in the Chapel.  But whatever, just go with it.  I joined the tour group and took a seat in a pew.  Because of the group, the chapel’s music director came out.  She played “How Great Thou Art” in a flowery arrangement, perfect for the Arkansas setting, on the piano, and then told us the story of how the founder of the chapel was a recovering alcoholic (!) and retired teacher (!) who had this crazy scheme, and ended up, just by “co-incidence,” finding the perfect architect and the funding and everything he needed.  It was a very inspirational story, after which she sang “Amazing Grace” and “In the Sweet By and By” in a lovely church-ey voice, and then told us to rely on God for all our needs.  It was definitely better than a solitary visit.

Link to Thorncrown Chapel

That lady on the left is the music director who played and sang so sweetly.

Artsy Bentonville as we avoid WalMart (well, not really since I ended up ranting)

We got to Arkansas and realized we were in the south because everyone suddenly got so friendly!  At dinner tonight, I swear like five people came up and asked how our food was.  It was insane.  We are in Bentonville, staying at this really cool museum hotel; they have one in Louisville, KY also.  It's called 21c Museum Hotel and it is full of super modern art, totally fun, quirky and conceptual.

All over the hotel there are these green penguins made out of recycled plastic.  They migrate from place to place, and even came over to our table when we were having dinner last night!

Of course, the two main attractions in Bentonville are 1) The Original WalMart with its visitor center; and 2) The Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art.  The latter was paid for by the daughter of WalMart's founder.  It is a beautiful museum, an architectual wonder, full of fantastic art (everything from famous portraits of George Washington to Andy Warhol's Coke Bottle and Dolly Parton, as well as Norman Rockwell's Rosie the Riveter).  The building itself was designed by Israeli architect Moshe Safdie.  What an amazing place to have, hidden away in NW Arkansas.

 
We tried to ignore the WalMart visitor center and folksy town square.  Of course, WalMart is everywhere here, and it does creep into our conversations.  Matt: "My belt is wearing out." Me: "Maybe you should get a new one...at WALMART!"  and so on.  But seriously, folks.  WalMart is so bizarre, I guess it is also a vision of America.  Here is a link to a great series of articles I found about the wages WalMart pays its workers, while donating 2 billion dollars a year to food banks, soup kitchens and other "hunger relief" agencies, which many WalMart workers then have to take advantage of when their food stamps run out at the end of the month, because they aren't paid a living wage.  Read about every day low wages at WalMart

Of course, WalMart workers have tried to organize, and even have a cute little collective (non-union of course) where they try to discuss maybe getting better wages?  WalMart executives have careful trainings on how to stop unions before they start, while, of course, avoiding any illegal Pinkerton type activities. Read about WalMarts anti-union training

To be fair to WalMart, I will include a link to their "code of ethics" page, which talks about personal integrity and so forth.  WalMart's code of ethics
Furthermore, sometimes WalMart is at the forefront of paying more for items they acquire, and every time they do this, it has a huge impact on the entire sector of whatever industry in which they choose to make even a tiny change.  In January, they decided to pay one and a half cents more per pound for tomatoes.  This may seem like a tiny pittance, but it actually increased the daily wage from 50 dollars a day to 80 dollars, almost double, for Florida tomato pickers.  Walmart Joins the Fair Food Coalition.  So why can't they do the same for their workers?  According to a new study from the University of California (see link above about low wages), if they raised their hourly wage to 12 dollars, even if they passed the costs on to the consumer and kept all their profits, the average shopper would only have to pay 46 cents more per shopping trip.  I think most people would be willing to pay another 46 cents if it meant that WalMart employees didn't have to go to a food bank or soup kitchen at the end of the month.

I could, of course, rant on and on about other aspects of WalMart.  For example, What it says about its sustainability policy and goals versus how it's doing in reality, but I would be preaching to the choir.  Click on those purple links if you want more ammunition, or want to get more incensed about WalMart.  I have run out of time, have to check out of this glorious hotel and visit more lovely places in Northwest Arkansas!