The Riverside Hotel is/was a place where blues musicians gathered. The rooms are named after clients like Ike Turner – or John F. Kennedy, even though he was not a reknown blues man. Some rooms still have the personal items of musicians who may be back. And then there is the Betsy Smith room. Before the building was a hotel, it was a hospital. Betsy Smith died in “her” room after an automobile accident. Rat keeps the room as a memorial to her.
Is this a hotel from the past? Nope. Anyone can stay. The rooms, which are not large, have their own swamp coolers – necessary in the Delta heat. Katrina checks the mattress in one room – is it as old as the pictures on the wall? Nope, the mattresses are comfy. The rooms don’t have private baths, but that is easily balanced by a space so steeped in rich history, down home music and tales about blues folks.
And Rat is a smooth talking man with a quick story to tell about each room, a wink and a kiss as the ladies go by. If I go back to Clarksdale, I want to stay at the Riverside Hotel. It’s a trip!
And the day ends with an hour and a half drive to Memphis and Beale Street. I want to check out Beale Street out with the young folk, but I crash after a dinner of ice cream from the lobby. I have been so busy this trip, I haven’t even had time to keep a journal. Beale Street tomorrow, sleep today!
Frank Ratcliff with our LaLa
Checking the mattress
Bessie Smith’s room