"The Shack Up Inn is NOT a gimmicky yuppie novelty, it is a sincere labor of love on the part of its owners. If you love the blues, R&B, have a good sense of history (and humor), then do yourself a favor and stay there. You won't be sorry." - former guest
Date: Saturday 17 July 2004
Establishment visited: The Commissary, Hopson Plantation,
Clarksdale
Drinks consumed: 2 Miller Light Longnecks
Level of inebriation: 1.5
(0 = sober, 10 = Can't hold your head up)
When my partner in crime and I pulled up to the commissary at the Hopson Plantation in Clarksdale, we didn't know what to expect. I suppose no one does.
The first signs of life Mr. Cromartie and I saw were two gentlemen leaning against an old cop car, sipping Budweiser and talking. Across the gravel drive from them, a tractor-turned-smoker emitted the aroma of what promised to be some mighty fine barbeque.
We introduced ourselves to the men and got down to business. "Where can we get a couple of those beers?"
James, who turned out to be one of the proprietors, took us into the commissary-turned-juke joint and gave us a private tour of the place, accompanied by interesting anecdotes, as we drank.
Inside the commissary, which originally served as the general store for sharecropping families living on the plantation, nearly every inch of the walls and ceiling was covered with an array of finds from "roadside ditches," from a larger-than-life "Elvis will never leave this building" banner above the bar, to flags representing countries, states and even a fraternity, to expired license plates, to a "Chasing Amy" poster autographed by Joey Lauren Adams. And the floor space was no different (think: library of antique books, an entire transported barber shop, a huge statue of Paul Bunyan, and on and on).
Despite our wonder at our unique surroundings, we were soon distracted by some familiar sounds coming from outside. Could it be the "Blues Brothers" sound track?
James explained that his friend was driving the Blues Mobile. Turned out that cop car the guys were leaning on had some history of its own. According to James, it was the only car that survived the making of the 1980 classic movie.
If we hadn't realized it before, Mr. Cromartie and I knew at this point we'd stumbled upon one of Mississippi's little-known treasures.
The Shack Up Inn, "Mississippi's Oldest Bed and Beer," is also located on the plantation. Despite what Mr. Cromartie and I may have assumed, the name isn't just a clever allusion to the naughtier side of the inn business. Guests can actually rent one of several sharecropper shacks that were brought to the plantation and "remodeled" with the accommodations necessary for modern living (don't worry, there's no need for outhouses here).
The inn attracts all sorts of guests, many of whom are musicians looking for inspiration or to get away. James told us of the impromptu jam sessions that often erupt at the plantation, and I could imagine why.
We couldn't resist checking out the rest of the place. James made sure a couple of the shacks were available for us to look through, then turned us loose, beer in hand, to explore on our own.
All we needed to know was, as James put it, "there are no rules here."
We spent the rest of the afternoon looking at the shacks, wandering through the gin (which will soon be converted to another bar), looking through a building that seemed to hold one or two of everything ever invented that now suffers from disuse and inventing absurd stories to accompany every oddity we discovered.
I didn't really get an accurate history lesson of the Hopson Plantation while I was there, but I did have an adventure that I will remember for a long time. I also added another item to my to-do list, though a lady would never tell what that might be.
