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" Juke joints used to be at people's houses. The law didn't come to people's houses. "
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By Ross Gohlke
One of the things that makes Memphis a rare place is the same thing that makes it a coveted cultural Mecca: In Memphis, you can hear live blues any night of the week. Still, as pleasant a luxury as Beale Street on a weeknight can be, nothing matches the experience of blues meant especially for Saturday night. Yes, the spit-shine, professional, commercial blues of Beale has a low down, lo-fi, fun-loving relative right across town. And we ain't talking some distant cousin; juke joint blues is a granddaddy, baby. Before there was a blues industry, there were juke joints. And though the definition of a juke joint has changed over the years, the kind of grounded, organic blues found there is still being made in places like Dorothy's Lounge (formerly Green's Lounge; see related story) here in Memphis. Juke joints used to be at people's houses. The law didn't come to people's houses. But when the live music moved into local clubs the law had an impact. Today's juke joint is subject to all the legal compliances required by a legitimate business. No more selling moonshine in the parking lot. It is a money-making venture and must generate income to stay open. The modern juke joint comes together at the crossroads of deep Delta culture and business savvy, an uneasy marriage indeed. Which explains why genuine juke joints are about as rare as four leaf clovers. The main difference is, you know where to start looking for juke joints. Juke joints used to be in rural areas, and are still primarily found in smaller towns. Places like Clarksdale, Miss., and Helena, Ark., are ideal spots to start hunting: far enough away from the major channels of human industry to preserve the blues roots and the blues misery, close enough to have an audience; small enough to keep things basic, big enough to have an audience. Even so, there's no guarantee you'll find a juke joint - at least a stable one - in such places. In Helena for instance, legendary bluesman Frank Frost's wife, Emma, owns a pool hall that could easily accommodate live music. The obvious choice would be Frost himself. But getting a steady band to commit to playing every weekend is harder than it sounds, and Frost doesn't have the energy or the inclination for such an undertaking. Can you blame him? The local population couldn't sustain it. How many of Helena's residents would pay the cover every week? Plenty of visitors would be more than willing to go out of their way to hear Frank play the blues on a Saturday night, but how would Emma let them know about it without dumping lots of money into advertising? There's no easy answer. In a larger city like Memphis there are more people to draw from, but you have more competition, usually from clubs with actual advertising budgets. For every success like Green's there are plenty of failures. George's Blues Club, just a block away from Green's, used to host live music every weekend. Until recently the Icebreakers played there Sunday nights. The Boner brothers, who now play at Green's, had a steady gig there for three years. "There used to be three times the [Green's] crowd at George's," James Boner recalls. But today owner George Stout, who assumed operation of the club in December, is "dead against" having live music. "I never did no good with music," he says. "A deejay is the right way to go for me." Stout cites bands who want too much money and don't draw a crowd as the reason live music doesn't help his business. Stout occasionally hosts larger R&B acts sure to draw a black audience, like Earl the Pearl or Booker "Blues" Brown. But he's "not hung up" on weekly live music for now. Wild Bill's was another favorite Memphis juke joint among blues enthusiasts until it was recently forced to close down by authorities. The place, which was a diner by day and only hosted live music on the weekends, was in the wrong commercial zone to operate as a club. Interestingly, the place seemed to have no trouble with the law until it started gaining more exposure. Other live music venues that cater to a predominantly black clientele, such as The Place 2B on Brooks Road or Lucille's on South Third, are certainly worth the trip if you call ahead and confirm there will be live music, but they are less juke joint and more soul club. It is more or less a crap shoot, though, as to what you will find. It seems like a miracle, in light of all this, that Dorothy Sanders can bring Green's back to life or that Junior Kimbrough can still run a house party in rural Mississippi. But it's worth the trouble, because there's nothing better than a rocking house band, a cold quart and a juke joint Saturday night.
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