Furry Lewis' Grave is Sayin' "I Am A Man"
© dianegreen
What it takes for me to get back to writing…utter depression and grief. Ok. Maybe not always. I do write in my journals, things that I rarely publish. But here’s what it was like to visit my hometown, Memphis, at this point in time:
It was my birthday. I turned 68. Yep I’m that old. But being in Memphis and turning 68 years old, all I could remember was being in Memphis in April of 1968. Growing up in an all-white community I was relatively unaware of the horror of racism when I was 10, as it was powerfully coming into full view, and I was not raised to hate. But apparently many of my school mates were. One person shouted “King shoulda been hanged!” I was nauseated hearing that in the Richland Elementary lunchroom the day after Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. No one did anything about what that kid said.
So with all that forever carved in my inner soul, I decided during this recent trip to go back and revisit the grave of Walter “Furry” Lewis. I had been there many years before. I had been a fan of Furry’s unique country blues songs since I was in my mid-teen years. Going to Peanuts Pub in midtown Memphis in the 1970s with my crew of blues enthusiasts, I would see Furry Lewis playing on stage backed by Lee Baker every Tuesday night. Sometimes Furry would sing one of his earliest songs “Kassie Jones” all the way through…sometimes maybe halfway. But I loved that song so much I named my son after it. Plus, I was going to perform that song live at the Women in Memphis Music Show at the B-Side Memphis’ Live Stream, and I definitely needed to offer Furry a token of gratitude.
Once again, I found the name of the graveyard online, Hollywood Cemetery, and off my partner Bob Buchholz and I went. Little did we know what we would find.
Before reaching the graveyard address we saw what appeared to be a memorial, or a found object sculpture on Hernando Road, and we made sure to include it our travelog.
Maybe it was a sign. As we came upon 2012 Hernando Rd, in the outer edge of Memphis we actually passed it and had to turn around. Upon entrance we could see that whatever trails or roads in that cemetery that existed in the past were gutted streambeds and valleys now. Plus it was uber muddy.
There was no sign on the gate letting you know where you were.
The whole place was so overgrown you could barely see the tops of a few tall gravestones. Other gravestones were toppled over or about to fall. Others were completely crashed and broken.
However coming from Chicago and knowing how to endure just about anything on any road we managed to get in and find a place to park. I had to step out of the car very carefully however as there was a red ant hill that was about a foot high right next to the car.
We wandered around the desecrated cemetery for about half an hour. I was already in shock having seen mountains of tires dumped at the end of several paths, as well as other piles of construction fly rubbish, and garbage. I guess at least the hoboes felt safe there, their abandoned campfire sites were still fresh. I was singing to Furry out loud but Bob was carrying his blues divining rod. Bob found the grave. Amazing. Furry’s grave was barely viewable. Tree branches covered it, as did a wide variety of subtropical wild plants.
Once we made it to Furry’s grave, I got Bob to hold up some tree branches just so I could photograph the grave it as it was. We then got the notion to cut off a couple branches with Bob’s leatherman pocket tool that happened to have a small saw blade. I then weeded away some of the tall overgrowth, but there was poison ivy…”leaves of three”… I didn’t even have gloves. In Memphis, I’m pretty much allergic to everything.
Furry’s headstone is leaning forward and needs a concrete slab to rest on, otherwise it will fall over soon. The entire cemetery ground felt like a peat bog, given there had been 8 inches of rain in the past week. I was beginning to fear we’d fall into some kinda quicksand. Otherwise Bob and I both felt as though we were walking through “The Night of the Living Dead”.
It is a given fact that people show up from all over the world to visit Furry’s grave…or fans from somewhere because people have chipped off pieces of the original ground level stone. Someone left a Mardi Gras token. Bob found a broken bottle neck for Furry to use in the Other World for playing slide guitar.
We did all we could without getting too eaten up by all those ants. But the overwhelming fact is that segregation continues to exist evermore blatantly in the Other World throughout the history of Memphis.
It's difficult to find an exact number of Black cemeteries in Memphis, as many are obviously undocumented and forgotten. However, it's estimated that Tennessee, including Memphis, has a large number of cemeteries, many of which are neglected or small. Graham Perry, a state Historical Commission specialist, mentions that Shelby County (which includes Memphis) has identified 317 cemeteries, but likely many more exist. Additionally, a project called "Sacred to the Memory" revealed over 100 abandoned cemeteries in Shelby county. The Black Cemetery Network and individuals like Kirkeminde-Harris who are restoring cemeteries, say Memphis likely has many small, neglected Black cemeteries. One prominent example is Zion Christian Cemetery, one of the oldest Black cemeteries in Memphis, with over 30,000 people buried there.
Hollywood Cemetery was founded in 1909, it is the second known Blacks-only cemetery in Memphis. It is also the final resting place for many who bravely broke racial barriers in the U.S. military, Tennessee's colleges and universities, as well as sanitation workers who participated in the 1968 Memphis sanitation strike.
That’s the 1968 I’m talkin’ about.
Nobody taught us how to end racism. We all grew up in a crazy vacuum in the 2nd half of the 20th Century. All we can do is take one small step at a time which includes calling out racism whenever…wherever it can be seen. The 1968 I experienced as a 10 year old was a nightmare, with the war in Vietnam on the news every night…then the assassination of a man who told the world “I have a dream…”
I’m gonna continue following that dream for the rest of my life.
To be continued…
Love this post and have shared it on The Blues Society Facebook page! We have to work together to see that Furry’s grave is accessible and honored!