I grew up in Olive Branch (family farm and church) and Whitehaven (Harding Academy at Hwy 51 & Holmes then SBEC on Tulane). Every so often on the AM radio a new Elvis song would come out and that was kind of cool. I was doing Algebra I homework (7th grade , a momentary prodigy for math but that soon passed) at home one afternoon when the news came that Elvis had passed away. It was sad of course but not a surprise. Trips to Methodist South and health peril had been broadcast before.
The mourning of fans worldwide was no surprise either. Some people reading this will still have a copy of the Commercial Appeal or Press Scimitar with giant headlines or perhaps tickets to the concert that wasn't to be. The renaming of Highway 51 as Elvis Presley Blvd was kind of an eye opener - this sort of thing wasn't done much in those days. The plot to steal the body from the cemetery was and is just bizarre. By moving the gravesite to Graceland the seed of an idea for a tourist attraction was born and oh how it has grown. The amazing growth and decades long staying power of Elvis Week with all the panels, activities, and candlelight vigil is something of a headscratcher for locals. At one time Bab Bob's/Vapors hosted an Elvis impersonator contest (naturally a fine young Baptist never actually visited such a place but you heard about that); this has been replaced by tribute artists from around the world who compete in preliminaries and prestigious finals...and has spawned feeder contests on multiple continents (much like the International Blues Challenge). Later, in my 40s, I had the opportunity to emcee a preliminary a preliminary night at the Hard Rock on Beale and really enjoyed it. Generally, locals appreciate the tourists, the tourist dollars, and the mainly positive press for the city. Graceland , now with the Graceland Guest House and more, is superbly managed. Fans of all ages -- from 80somethings to teens -- continue to come.
I have never been to the Candlelight Vigil. I wouldn't mind seeing it, but do I want to somehow intrude on what is a meaningful and emotional experience for many thousands of visitors. And I have no intention of going to poke fun as some locals have in past; that is simply not respectful.
My compact vacation this summer took me on a drive of over nine hours through the heartland of America which boasts both arch-conservative billboards and clean energy-producing wind turbines by the score. My aim was Davenport, Iowa for a traditional jazz festival which is an exceedingly rare commodity. Most jazz festivals these days - not there are many - throw together a mix of straight ahead jazz with a dose of smooth jazz and some older pop stars and possibly a hat tip to hot jazz somewhere down the bill. NOTA BENE: there is a bit of a distinction, in my opinion anyway, between Dixieland and Hot Jazz, mainly in terms of performance style and repertoire rather than instrumentation. I chalk this up to regional influences from jazz centers of New Orleans, Kansas City, Chicago, and New York. Okay, I am already putting some of you to sleep, but remember that the name of this blog is But I Digress!
Anyway back to the road trip and the destination: Davenport, Iowa, the Quad Cities on the Mississippi River. From Memphis just drive to Moline , IL and hang a left. Why Davenport? Simply put the Bix Fest is named for Bix Beiderbecke, cornet phenom and local son who lived from 1903-1931. The flame of talent burnt itself out with an able assist from too much alcohol. This summer was the 51st annual festival for hot jazz and it was held in the ballroom of a casino resort hotel. The year-end, hand-addressed solicitation letter for the non-profit festival cited 800 attendees. Not to quibble but I think they meant 800 attendees at various events over four days NOT 800 unique attendees; my event producer eye says something more akin to 200ish unique individual attendees...and that might include festival volunteers. Nonetheless the music was superb beyond measure. The dozen or so bands, all of whom played multiple sets and whose members occasionally co-mingled to form new, smaller groups, did not come for a big paycheck. Bands were in fact sponsored by donors, mainly individuals, and they stayed in a modest Quality Inn* about five miles from the casino.
The bands, tribute artists if you will, were as much enjoying themselves as were the audience members. The locals with whom I interacted fell into one of two categories: ardent volunteers handling all sorts of tasks or curious but friendly people who had never attended but knew of the event.
There was a morning small group performance at the graveside of Bix. As one of the younger festival attendees at age 60, I can assure you that none of us needed to be driving at night along the winding paths into the cemetery for a candlelight anything!
I cannot say for certain that the Bix Fest is the largest annual event in Davenport, but I will say that it is treated with respect and affection by the locals...just as I try to treat Elvis Week.
Anyway I ponied up the $25 annual membership for the Bix Beiderbecke Jazz Society without hesitation knowing that I may or may not be up to making that long drive ever again. I loved the grassroots appeal of the letter which also asked recipients to consider donating frequent flyer points to defray travel expenses for the bands.
How many more years can the Bix Fest go on? How many more years for Elvis Week? No one knows, but whatever your passion or interest, embrace it. I talked about going to Bix Fest for four years before ever going. Two lessons for me: (1) you have support things that you want to see survive and (2) things that are not your cup of tea are probably someone else's great passion and deserve respect.
I am toying with the idea of a cruise on the Danube next year originating in Budapest, but I am not sure it will be as memorable as Iowa.
* A word about the "modest" Quality Inn. The owner/manager , an Indian gentleman named Mike, has the biggest heart of any five people you have ever met. He is outside on the motel patio from 11pm-1 am on the Friday night of the festival grilling hamburgers and hot dogs for the festival musicians (festival performers, fans, locals, all welcome) who are rollicking in a jam session with an ebb and flow of musicians that is a sheer delight almost impossible to describe. You pretty much need to drive to Iowa to experience it. See you there.
