Giving Context to the Blues: A Walk with Brenda Luckett

Brenda Luckett knows Clarksdale. 

The de facto historian boasts an encyclopedic knowledge of the town from its streets to its politicians. To say she was born to do what she does is an understatement. The daughter of a charter member of Clarksdale’s chapter of the NAACP, she grew up with a fierce thirst for knowledge, a keen awareness of justice (and the fickleness thereof), and the fact that although the city her parents loved and worked so hard for did not love them back, the community that sheltered them, did. In the years since, Luckett has carried on her people’s legacy by bearing witness. Via the North Mississippi Civil Rights Museum, she educates tourists on Clarksdale’s history of strategizing and organizing during the Civil Rights Movement, and part and parcel of that, for Ms. Luckett, is illuminating the complicated history surrounding the Blues, not just the music itself. This work richly underscores her important role as griot, historian, and tradition bearer.

Luckett grew up in the home she has always lived in in Clarksdale’s Brickyard neighborhood. Built to house Black veterans after World War II, the neat but squat homes all looked alike, so her father, Joe, learned to lay brick in order to distinguish theirs from the neighbor’s. Her mother, Edna, was an elementary school teacher, who taught English and history to three generations of students; Joe worked many professions. He had a third-grade education but returned to get his GED after Brenda was born, so he would be able answer her questions. For a time, he drove taxis and was an entrepreneur, famously jumping the train that ran from behind his house into the Oil Mill Quarters in Lyon to sell sandwiches, buying supplies and making sandwiches at the commissary, and jumping the train again to sell them on the way back. Ultimately, he became a railroad worker who moved up from porter to fireman, to brake man, to becoming the first black locomotive engineer in Clarksdale. 

Luckett’s parents recognized and encouraged their daughter’s inherent intelligence, and although she was sheltered, she was not shielded from the very real facts of life at that time for Black folk. There was no way--an only child, she refers to herself as having grown up under the tables of the NAACP meetings she accompanied her parents to. She remembers the 1960s as a time of terror. One of her earliest memories was of being in kindergarten when she learned President Kennedy had been killed. Danger wasn’t isolated to people she didn’t know either. Police roamed the neighborhood searching for “outside agitators,” namely at the nearby SNCC house. In addition, Dr. Aaron E. Henry, who hosted Medgar Evers in his home and was also responsible for bringing the NAACP to Clarksdale, was a frequent target of racial hatred. After his home was bombed a second time, Luckett’s father and several of the other neighborhood men began taking turns watching over his place. Because the Lucketts were one of the only families in the neighborhood with a television set, their home was a natural gathering place for the community to gain information. Not only were they privy to the local disturbances, they saw what was happening on a larger stage as well. Luckett was constantly worried about her family’s safety, especially her father’s.

Despite the uncertainty of what was going on, Luckett describes Clarksdale as the place to be during that time. Downtown bustled with industry, the energy decidedly multicultural. She remembers Irish and Jewish American business owners, as well as the Chinese American shopkeepers. Black folk, too. Black families ran shoe shops, corner stores, and various other enterprises, including the Messengers, with whom the Lucketts were close. There were so many dry cleaners that they hustled for business, picking up and delivering your clothes to you. The Luckett’s knew black doctors, lawyers, teachers, etc.—there was no shortage of role models to be had. 

When Luckett graduated high school in 1977, she chose Ole Miss because it was specifically where her mother had wanted to go but faced barriers. Though it wasn’t as harsh a place, the going was still not easy for Black students there in the late 70s. Luckett knew she had to be twice as good but found herself discouraged by professors at every turn. She graduated with a degree in Speech and Hearing Audiology in 1981, and for a while, she attempted graduate school, but reality struck, and she had to go to work. She worked as a speech therapist for a while, but she couldn’t afford to renew her permit, so she took a job at Parchman Prison. While she collected experiences, she collected stories, connections, exchanges, and data, all while clinging to her love for Clarksdale and her passion for creating her own legacy.

This unique life, from her lineage to her occupations, provided Luckett with a sort of 360-degree view of not only the city but the state at large. This culminates in her work as activist and historian and tour guide; most important to her is that the story portrayed is accurate. One of her concerns is that: “many who travel the Mississippi Blues Trail are only getting the warm and fuzzy version, with the difficult fuller history edited out — how blues was born from oppression and was instrumental in the fight for civil rights.” 1 For her, these things could not and should never be severed. Her parents had fought too hard and risked too much for that to happen. The Blues did not occur in isolation; it was molded by hands, skillful, cruel, and heavy. And although justice is not had for those who endured this manipulation, their voices can be heard each time Luckett tells their stories. ​What she says might be surprising but should not be—that embedded within the Blues we love to groove to is pain and depth, but also resistance. 

Along with Dr. Jimmy Wiley, Luckett founded the Northwest Mississippi Civil Rights Museum, a project they had discussed for many years before its manifestation. In the lack of a brick-and-mortar building, she is the face of the institution. Her walking tour begins at Ground Zero, passes Red’s Lounge and the COGIC headquarters, sometimes meandering down Riverside, past the cemetery in the center of town that houses many of the city’s old plantation owners. Says Siegler and Elliott:

Her (Luckett’s) tours also focus on less obvious, unmarked sites such as the old Paramount Movie Theater, where there's a still-intact rickety staircase up the back that looks like a fire escape — it was once the Black entrance. Nearby is the old Greyhound Bus station — now a fast food restaurant — where Black activists staged sit-ins to force desegregation. 2

Says Luckett: "Civil Rights, it's the next blues, as far as tourism is concerned." 3 It was inevitable, though, as she has seen an uptick of interest, not just in the music, but in the stories behind the artists and the history of the place, even the ugly parts. This is where Luckett has carved her niche. On her tours, people often inquire about the location of the museum. She and Wiley are striving to finally make that a reality. In 2022, the North Mississippi Civil Rights Museum partnered with Higher Purpose Co, an economic justice nonprofit, to do just that. Partially funded with a $50,000 grant from the Racial Justice Collaborative, Higher Purpose will house the Museum in its downtown Clarksdale hub on Issaquena and Third. The exterior of the building already features brilliant murals of Clarksdale Civil Rights greats such as Dr. Henry and Mrs. Vera Pigee. Until the building is complete, however, the NMCRM remains a museum on the move.

If you come to Clarksdale and walk with Ms. Luckett, you gain more than knowledge, you gain awareness. She can tell you of the old grand homes on Roosevelt and Florida Streets, built by fancy architects from Memphis, whose likenesses graced the postcards in Doc Henry’s pharmacy. Or how Wade Walton’s Barber Shop was where boys read the Chicago Defender on Saturdays and dreamed of open roads and broader lives in the north (and how that building was once the composer, W.C. Handy’s house). She can even tell you what once stood where nothing now stands. The spaces are what gets her. The blanks. She can also tell you the joy she feels when one is filled by a family. The Friday before we spoke, Luckett gave a tour to an old friend of sorts—a professor who had been part of SNCC in Clarksdale in the 1960s. During the course of the tour, they spoke on those days of terror. He recalled that even though he was in danger, he had never felt so safe, than in that circle of churches in the New World District. Those are the types of reactions she usually gets in her tours: more than just knowledge, awareness. 

Between tours, Ms. Luckett sharpens her craft. As part of the inaugural class of the Mississippi Delta Cultural Heritage Ambassadors Program, her capstone project will be a tour with StoryWorks. As well, she shares her expansive knowledge and eloquent musings via her blog on Shared Experiences USA. She also sits on the board of Griot Arts, Inc. to ensure the next generation of storytellers get it right. It’s her legacy and her heritage. Speaking of, Luckett’s daughter, Edna, has not only been groomed with information but is also a frequent performer of the Blues in festivals all over the state. It’s a full circle legacy, and I don’t think she would have it any other way. The next time you’re in Clarksdale, take a walk with Ms. Luckett. She loves Clarksdale, its people, and all of their stories, not just the one at the Crossroads.   

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