Jacqueline Smith -vs- Civil Rights

I'm up and out of the room early to roam the streets of Memphis. I check out the park area overlooking the Mississippi river and the bridge to Arkansas. I see a group of about five kids riding unicycles around the city. I bump into them a few more times throughout the day. I have three goals for the day. Go get some barbecued shrimp at the Blues City Cafe. Visit Jacqueline Smith across from the National Civil Rights Museum. And get some god damn magazines for the ride to Florida. Too early for shrimp so I start walking down Main St. towards where I think the museum is.

Soon enough I find my way and as I round the corner I see the Lorraine Motel sign just a block away. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated on the balcony of this motel and it has since been turned into the civil rights museum. The museum is unbelievable. The room where MLK stayed that night is on display, kept as it was the day he was shot. Replica cars sit in front and a wreath marks the spot on the balcony where he stood. The area where the museum stands is off the beaten path of the usual tourist spots along Beale St. Both times that I have been here it has been outrageously quiet, with only a few people venturing inside which is a shame.

If you ever decide to visit the museum you will undoubtedly see Jacqueline Smith set up across the steet from the entrance. My partner and I chatted with Jacqueline for about a half an hour the last time I was here which was 4 years ago. She keeps a running tab of exactly how long she has been here which you can see in the picture below.

Jacqueline lived in the motel in the time before they decided to convert it into a museum. If you ask her she'll probably tell you the tales just as she told me. She refused to leave. They got a court order to remover her. She still refused. They forced open the door and threw her out on the street after which she professed that they couldn't be rid or her as easy as they thought. Ever since she has spent every single day at her post in pretty much a silent protest of the museum. It has been, as you can see from the sign, 18 yrs and 46 days.

These are not the reasons she says that she is calling for a boycott of the museum. She feels that the money used for the museum would be put to better use in helping the citizens of Memphis. She is especially concerned for the cities homeless population. She feels a homeless shelter or soup kitchen would be a better way to pay tribute to Dr. King and keep his message alive. She believes that the museum would go against what Dr. King would have wanted himself.

Jacqueline Smith doesn't sound bitter. She must have told the story a million times or so. It's hard not to admire her determination but it's also easy to wonder if her commitment could be put to better use somehow. She's a downright charming lady and from what she shows through her furry hooded coat I'd say she's quite pretty. I chatted with her for a while, reminded her that I had visited her table years earlier. I asked her where the money should go if not into the museum. I asked her what she thought of the new sports complex that sprouted up off Beale St. She had some feeling about these things but she seemed more interested in talking about how great her LL Bean coat is at keeping her warm. She actually reccomended the exact style to me which I quickly forgot.

I felt an urge to try to convince her to give up her crusade against the museum, just as I had felt the last time I visited her, but somehow that seemed like it would be an enormous insult to her. The museum wasn't open, it was too early, but a few people came by to see the balcony and take pictures. Nobody else visited with Jacqueline in the time I was there.

On my last visit Amir and I didn't even have the heart to enter the museum immediately after talking with her. We came back the next day and went in while she wasn't looking. If you ever go to Memphis I'd highly recommend a visit to both the museum and to Jacqueline.

At this point our little detour to Memphis has worked out for all involved. I take a trolley down Main St and run into Boom as I'm coming down the trolley steps. We take some pictures on our way to the Blues City Cafe where I finally get to taste those savory ass shrimp I've been banging on about for the past 4 years. It's just as greasy and blackened and grizzly and delicious as I remembered it. I haven't eaten that slowly in a while. I don't know when I'll get a chance to get hijacked here again.