Another weekend has come and gone and you might have sung the same old song to the tune of “there’s nothing to do in Jackson”. If you did, you, madam or sir, are incorrect. We do not live in a desert or a monastery, we live in a city with LOTS of things to do. Here to tell you about it are Brianna Wilson and Joanna Haywood, law students at the MC School of Law downtown. I suggest you take their advise and get off of your fanny and into the city.

Underground 119

Since I moved to Jackson, Underground 119 has been one of my favorite places to go.  Nestled in downtown Jackson, it is a great place to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life and just relax for a while.  I always enjoy going to Underground after a long day of studying.  Things don’t get crowded until closer to dinner, and it is nice to just sit and talk with friends or watch the musician for the night set up and rehearse.

The atmosphere completely changes when it gets dark.  The lights are dimmed and people pour in from the street above to be serenaded by talented musicians from both near and far.  The space of the restaurant lends itself to a surprisingly intimate dinner setting, despite the echoing of jazz and blues and the chatter of other patrons.  The climate of this unique place is not the only attraction; I have found that the food is quite delicious and have never been let down by a dish I’ve ordered.  I will say that the steak quesadillas are my absolute favorite!  Everyone should enjoy this unique gem buried in downtown Jackson!

Written by Brianna Wilson 

Babalu Tacos and Tapas 

If I had to pick one word to describe my idea of an amazing Friday night, it would have to be BABALU!  It’s located right in the heart of Fondren, and if you’re looking for some great Latin cuisine, this is the place to be! From their ever popular guacamole as an appetizer, to their Lamb Baracoa Tacos for dinner, you are sure to have your appetite satisfied. No worries if you’re simply looking for a relaxing spot to take the edge off, with their wide variety of margaritas, Babalu is sure to help. I highly recommend making this place a part of your list of things to try when stopping by Fondren in Jackson. I guarantee you will not regret it!!

Written by Joanna Haywood

Jackson: photographs by Ken Murphy is available now for purchase. To order a copy, call Lemuria Books at 601.366.7619 or visit us online at lemuriabooks.com. 

Written by Mary Margaret Miller White 

I first met Barry White at a Bobby Rush concert in Oxford, Mississippi. I had just turned 21 and he had recently moved to the “velvet ditch” as a Mississippi State post-grad. We chatted as casually as one can while Bobby Rush and his lovely dancers are on stage, and talked about who we knew in common and where we came from. I call the Delta home and am fiercely proud of my rural roots. Barry hails from Jackson, and is the first to tell you about the “old St. Joe” or the Dutch Bar or Fields Café.

See, Delta folks usually navigate north to Memphis, so at the time the most I knew of Jackson was the strangely-lit basketball court at Jackson Academy and the post-shopping stop at Old Tyme Deli where my mother and I would sip coffee and share pastries. All fine memories, but no real reason to love the city.  I told Barry on that February night of 2003 that I would “never live in Jackson, Mississippi.” But seven years of dating and a million trips to the Capitol City for weddings, parades and big meals in Belhaven changed my mind, and now we are here to stay.

On October 1, 2011, Barry and I got married and celebrated our nuptials on the grounds of Welty Commons. This hidden gem of a coffee shop and courtyard was the perfect setting for our sort of celebrating. We had a band in the gallery, a cake in the big house and bare feet in the fountain. The bluest sky and the crispest breeze unfolded on that October day, allowing us to open every window and door on the grounds. Mandolin and fiddle sounds were filtered only by laughter. Our friends and family danced so hard the wooden floors of the gallery room seemed to turn to foam, bouncing guests from one number to the next. We ate and drank and never wanted the day to end.

That light-filled afternoon seems magical and mystical to me today, but I do remember clearly that everyone felt at home in this space devoted to Miss Welty’s birthplace. And now, I feel at home here in Jackson where Barry and I have decided to plant our roots. Barry often reminds me of how I once said I would “never live in Jackson, Mississippi,” and I have learned over the years to eat my humble pie and be grateful for my marriage and my home here.

Welty’s One Writer’s Beginnings has always been a favorite, and in just a few lines, Welty sums up the lifetime of searching, learning, and loving I’ve tried to describe here:

“It is our inward journey that leads us through time – forward or back, seldom in a straight line, most often spiraling. Each of us is moving, changing, with respect to others. As we discover, we remember; remembering, we discover; and most intensely do we experience this when our separate journeys converge.”

Jackson: photographs by Ken Murphy is available now for purchase. To order a copy, call Lemuria Books at 601.366.7619 or visit us online at lemuriabooks.com. 

No one likes goodbyes. Ilsa couldn’t believe that Rick just popped her onto that plane with a blandly spoken “here’s looking at you, kid”, and the world stuttered and stopped breathing for a minute when we heard that Robin Williams would no longer be here to make us laugh. Goodbyes are the WORST. In real life, goodbyes aren’t nearly as poetic or or well scripted as those in books or movies, but they can hurt even more.

An open letter to the Jackson Greyhound Bus Terminal:

Dear Bus Station,

Thanks for rekindling some pretty sad memories for me. About 10 years ago I was standing on a platform at some tiny, unnamed train station outside of Stockholm, and I said goodbye to a dear friend. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again, I mean after all- the Atlantic is on the bigger side. We cried. I ran alongside the train as it left the station, and for the first time in my young mind, I realized that it was possible to cross paths with someone only one or two times in your whole life. Would that be us? Would I ever see my friend again? It was a pretty hopeless farewell.

Ok, stop crying. I saw her a few years later. A brief visit to the U.S. to see us, then back to the grey skies of Sweden, and once again, I was left wondering if that was it. Saying goodbye to my friend was becoming a far too regular occurrence.

Here’s where you come in, Greyhound station. It’s 2014 and my teenage wonder at the world and it’s workings has dissipated a bit. My dear friend returns to the states, and we spend a lovely day together, catching up (she’s finished medical school! I have my dream job!), and realizing that distance has made the heart grow fonder. At the end of her brief stay in Jackson, my husband and myself drive her to the bus station late in the evening. She’s taking the Greyhound to Nashville to connect with other friends who have missed her and wondered if they would ever see her again.

Here’s the thing, I was sad, but this time I wasn’t heartbroken. I hugged her and watched with a bit of envy as she shouldered her backpack and boarded the bus. We waved, smiling and calling out farewells and “we’ll keep in touch!” before turning our backs on the mass of people waiting to board and walked away. It was a quiet ride home that night, and I wondered how many people had said goodbye that day.

Greyhound station, you are like a crush in the 6th grade: heartbreaking and full of hope. You force goodbyes, and you bring the giddy flutter of a hello. So I guess as an ammendum to my bitter start to this letter:

Dear Bus Station,

Thanks for bringing my friend back to me, and thanks for providing a road for her to continue on when it’s time for her to leave. I hope I see her again soon.

Love,

Hannah

Jackson: photographs by Ken Murphy is available now for purchase. To order a copy, call Lemuria Books at 601.366.7619 or visit us online at lemuriabooks.com. 

My Father passed right after I turned 12, and being an only child, and the youngest of first cousins, my close family contacts became few.  However, my first cousin, Paul, who was 20 years older and I thought looked like James Bond, took me on as a little brother.  He was single and all about town and let me tag along on his excursions.  So I found Crechales in my early teens, 13 I believe.  Paul knew all the waitresses, and was always looking for girlfriends, so I guess his “sidekick” might have been a novelty of some sort for the ladies.

In my early 20’s, our gang, usually consisting of John, Mike, Dalton, and myself would usually brown bag some scotch (no liquor was sold legally at Chrechales during that time) and celebrate special occasions.  We usually ordered broiled flounder to be de-boned by the server at tableside while we always praised and flirted with our waitress.  Paul taught me that.

Crechales still remains my favorite place to eat and be a host.  Over the years, I’ve taken many authors, exposing them to the best of my hometown.  I remember taking Jim Harrison, the first of many trips, as Crechales is always a stop for Jim’s Jackson visits.  This time Jim and artist pal, Russell Chatham came for the opening of Dalva nationally, at the new Lemuria location in Banner Hall.  They ordered the menu, holding court in the back booth as we went through all the courses.  The waitresses kept bringing food to their dismay.

Willie Morris loved Crechales and a trip to dine with him and JoAnne was always a treat.  Willie seemed to shine there.  He felt at home.

Elmore Leonard loved Crechales’s Roadhouse style. I felt he was creating a character watching the Chrechale patrons.  Barry Moser loved the chicken gizzards, for him a rare menu treat.  Barry Gifford, Tom McGuane, Sam Lawrence and many more have shared in the fun and food here while in Jackson.

And I end by suggesting my style, which is as always as soon as you sit down order onion rings, then top them with Comeback sauce and start your evening delights with a cold beer.

Written by John

Jackson: photographs by Ken Murphy is available now for purchase. To order a copy, call Lemuria Books at 601.366.7619 or visit us online at lemuriabooks.com. 

The following article was written by Marshall Ramsey and was published on August 2, 2014 in the Clarion-Ledger. 

After a recent cartoon I drew about Jackson, a caller asked me, “Why should I care about Jackson?” I should have sent him Ken Murphy’s new book “Jackson” (Lemuria Books, 2014).

For 15 years, photographer Murphy has captured Mississippi’s beauty with his camera. In “Jackson,” he not only chronicles the interesting landmarks but tells the colorful story of its people as well.

It takes you on a tour without having to start your car.

Start in the lobby of Lemuria Books. Buckle up and read the foreword by owner John Evans and then read Jacksonian Leland Speed’s introduction. Then let your journey begin.

Head downtown and see Jackson’s historic City Hall. Then cruise over to the Governor’s Mansion and the Mississippi Old Capitol. By now you’ll notice how this book is different: These aren’t just postcard photos of buildings. The streets are teeming with paradegoers from Mal’s St. Paddy’s Parade. You not only see the city’s beauty: You feel its pulse.

Keep turning the pages. You’re taken geographically and historically through the city. Medgar Evers home (you see the driveway where he was gunned down) sits next to the William F. Winter Archives & History building. A winding road carries you into Greenwood Cemetery where you’ll stop in front of Eudora Welty’s grave. See Eddie Cotton’s performance at Duling Hall. On the next page are legends Bobby Rush and Jesse Robinson. Jackson’s musical roots run deep. All your senses are engaged visually now. You can almost smell the magnolias in Belhaven and hear the cheers at a Jackson State football game.

Hungry? Stop at Two Sisters Kitchen, Parlor Market, The Mayflower, The Elite or one of Jackson’s other fantastic restaurants. Or just pick up some fresh vegetables at the Farmer’s Market. Thirsty? Pull up a stool at Hal & Mals. You can almost hear writer Willie Morris holding court. Walk into the men’s room and see the tribute to Elvis. Head up State Street. See Fondren rise like a phoenix. Isn’t that Governor Winter’s home? Sure. He just happens to be standing in front of it.

Your tour continues, and you sit in Welty’s den and see her writing room. The warmth of the light in the photograph matches the power of her prose. Then you can step into one of Jackson’s art galleries to marvel at the talent that emanates from the city. See Jackson’s houses of worship and institutions of higher education. Take a stroll on a path near the Pearl River and see how close wildlife is to city life. Head to the State Capitol and see where the political sausage is made. Bored? Catch a festival. Go to a museum. Listen to a concert. Go to the Mississippi State Fair. The sun is going down? No problem. The photos and fun continue. Some of Murphy’s most compelling images are the ones taken at night.

Now you’re at the finish line — the Blues Marathon & Half Marathon finish line. Cross it and sit back, relax and read the plate details. It’s when Jackson’s history comes to life. “Jackson” broadened my knowledge of the city where I’ve worked in for nearly two decades.

Murphy and Lemuria Books have given us a book that deepens our knowledge and appreciation of a complex, interesting city. The city of Jackson should be celebrated. And “Jackson” does it well.

Marshall Ramsey, a two-time Pulitzer finalist, is a nationally syndicated editorial cartoonist, author, speaker and Mississippi Public Broadcasting radio host. He has drawn cartoons in Jackson for The Clarion-Ledger since 1996.

“Jackson”

• Photographs by Ken Murphy

• Foreword by John Evans

Publisher: Lemuria Bookstore

Pages: 183

Price: $75

Jackson: photographs by Ken Murphy is available now for purchase. To order a copy, call Lemuria Books at 601.366.7619 or visit us online at lemuriabooks.com.