The Little Town That Worked A Miracle

THE LITTLE TOWN THAT WORKED A MIRACLE How a former segregationist stronghold built a $15 million museum celebrating the life of a black man

By Clancy Smith

It’s early afternoon, mid-September 2008, and the sparkling double-glass doors slide silently open. Soon, a large man shuffles through the doors before seating himself in a wheelchair. A hushed group of onlookers trails behind.

The wheelchair glides down the hallway, then abruptly stops. The man stares hard at the gleaming Gibson guitars, as though he can’t quite believe someone arranged them so neatly on the walls. He kindly greets them all with the same name: Lucille. Yes, there she is – his beloved Lucille.

He keeps going, stops again – stunned at halfcentury-old photo displays of all those Memphis friends and all those good times. He wheels down a high-gloss hallway, then stops on a dime.

Wait! Can that really be? A replica of the home music studio? The same carpet. The exact same piece of carpet?

The man in the wheelchair slowly turns away. Alone now in a hushed corner of the museum, he drops his head and begins to weep.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever seen B.B speechless,” said Jim Abbott, former editor of the Indianola Enterprise Tocsin and one of the museum’s founding members.

The B.B. King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center opened in the small town of Indianola in 2008 after more than eight years of planning, plotting and producing. Six years later, visitors from all 50 states and 30 countries – including Denmark, Japan and South Africa – have made the pilgrimage to the 20,000 square-foot shrine to the native son-turned-international blues legend. The project ended up topping out at a cool $15 million.

And it’s not only outsiders who benefit. The museum has spun off afterschool programs for children and health

Museum director Dion Brown says some black folks wondered if the museum would be mainly for white folks. But the museum has proved them wrong. PHOTO BY JARED BURLESON

and fitness programs for members of the community.

In fact, continued growth and support have transformed the Smithsonian-quality museum into one of Indianola’s prime economic engines – an engine that has also helped unify a once-splintered community. Since the blue ribbons were cut, two new restaurants have opened in the Delta community of 10,495, and a new motel is scheduled to break ground soon.

“The financial support and the support from the white community to make something happen that honored an African-American that played guitar is not something that would’ve happened a few decades ago,” said Bill McPherson, president of the B.B. King Museum Board. had become a global San Francisco, he stayed at the Top of the Mark. When

But when he came home, he and his band couldn’t

“We kind of had a list of some white people that we knew would be challenged to come to the party, but they would have to come – the movers and shakers and all,” said Abbott.

At one point during the evening, King asked guests to gather around the patio. He toasted the crowd. As he looked out at all the black and white faces, he almost began to cry.

“They got to see,” said Abbott, “what a great guy he is.”

A much older, increasingly feeble King, now 88, gave what was billed as his last annual concert in late May.

Truth be told, it almost didn’t happen. Not the lavish display cases. Not the state“The financial support and the of-the-art sound system. Not the posh auditorium. And not support from the white community the afterschool program for the town’s children. None of it. By the 1970s, B.B. King ... is not something that would’ve happened a few decades ago.” superstar. When he played -- BILL MCPHERSON in New York, he stayed at the Waldorf Astoria. When They saw it as a time to come together, to enjoy music in London, he gave private concerts for the queen. by a man who made a difference in his hometown.

For years, Indianola eagerly awaited those concerts. sleep in local motels, couldn’t eat in local restaurants. “I came home to Indianola with my band, but we couldn’t stay at the motel out on I t got serious over lunch one day in July 2000. The lunch group of five – banker, lawyer, restaurant owner, editor and bank teller – started brainstorming (U.S.) 82, we couldn’t eat at the Cream Cup,” a ways to turn their museum dream into reality. disheartened King once told his friend Abbott. Their goal was to pay tribute to the man who

So, in 1983, Abbott began searching for a way had put Indianola on the map. They wanted to for the town to embrace its famous native son, convey a saga that included both civil rights and an encouraging the Indianola Chamber of Commerce American success story in the music industry. Board to assist with King’s annual homecoming “We were kind of like nomads in the wilderness,” concert. But it didn’t go down with some of the board recalled Randy Randall, a local banker and one of the members, many of whom had the same problem: They museum’s founders. “We didn’t know really where we couldn’t see past the color of Riley B. King’s skin. were going or how we were going to get there, but we

“I said, ‘Well, you don’t even know the guy,’” were all determined to stay focused on our goal.” Abbott told those who rejected the proposal. “’He’s So the group wrote King a letter, asking approval to the nicest guy. I mean, come on. He’s been received use his name for the B.B. King Museum. After his goby the queen of England. He’s represented the United ahead, they sought two things: location and money. States in Moscow for the State Department. He is Auburn and Mississippi State architecture students a true gentleman and he’s proud of this town.’” squared off to find the best spot. Ironically, both

But the board wouldn’t budge. Enter four white groups chose a site with an old brick cotton gin near couples. They concocted a plan to host a party to downtown. When they asked King’s approval, he gave bridge the racial divide. Of the 250 people invited, 125 a startling response: It was the same gin he had worked were white, 125 were black. The garden party along at as a young man helping grease the gin machinery. the bayou on June 9, 1983, to which the media was not “That gin was actually a part of his life,” said invited, was unlike any the guests could remember. Evelyn Roughton, another founding member.

“We didn’t have any clue about that.”

Fundraising quickly became another major concern. After speaking with museum experts, the initial $75,000 estimate morphed into the millions.

What to do? Enter Bill McPherson and Allan Hammons. McPherson, an Indianola native, put his career on hold to work on the project full-time. Hammons, owner of Hammons & Associates Advertising, used his business expertise to help jump-start the project.

“I became a little intrigued by the thing, so I guess I kind of tried to talk myself out of it and at the same time talk myself into it,” said Hammons, who was not initially ready to commit to the time-consuming project.

Eventually, in Indianola alone, the team raised over a million dollars to back the museum.

“Oh gosh, I can’t even tell you what, it was so generous,” said Roughton, owner of the Crown Restaurant downtown. “The people here in town were extremely generous and believed in its scale.”

Meanwhile, McPherson and Hammons relentlessly badgered the Legislature with a tax plan to help underwrite the costs. They also got help from Washington, D.C., after pitching the project to the feds with an assist from U.S. Sen. Thad Cochran. Fundraising events became a frequent affair.

“It was shocking,” said Hammons. “Every time [the estimate] would go up, there were collective gasps from the board like, ‘We can’t do this. It’s not possible.’ But it was a fun project, and Bill and I literally worked coast to coast to make it happen.”

The museum also got $300,000 from Gibson, the guitar company B.B. King had remained loyal to throughout the years. The most generous individual donation came in a nondescript manila envelope. The $2.5 million check from former Netscape CEO Jim Barksdale and his wife Donna almost got tossed in the trash with a pile of junk mail.

For six long years, McPherson and Hammons worked seven days a week to corral donations. As

money piled up, the design team cranked up as well.

Gallagher & Associates rounded up items significant to King’s life. At one point, he allowed the team to slap sticky notes on anything in his home they wanted for the museum.

“If an institution can tell a powerful story, I really do think it affects the community and it draws tourists, first of all, because it’s authentic and it’s real and it shows people something that they didn’t expect to find there,” explained Cissy Foote Anklam, founder of Museum Concepts.

“Then it also revitalizes the community. Not only economically, which is great, but also just in terms of civic pride and understanding their story better.”

In the end, King left most of the museum’s creation to those spearheading the project.

“He was involved as little as he could be, but we wore him out,” McPherson said. “I mean, he was playing and busy, and we really worried him to death trying to tie him down and get him on film.”

Those museum video clips ultimately snagged a bronze medal in the Muse awards, an international awards ceremony that recognizes outstanding achievement in archives, libraries and museums.

Along the way, the bond the museum forged with the community became evident.

“It’s the first time I’d ever seen groups, black and white, work together on a common thing that both of them felt strongly about,” Roughton said.

Today museum visitors continue to stream in from all over the world. And everything inside those sparkling double-glass doors continues to provide the social glue for a community with a racially fragmented history.

Summed up Dion Brown, the museum’s executive director:

“I wasn’t raised that way, so to me everybody’s equal, and so that’s the way we go forward – making Design by Kim Sanner

Greenwood advertising executive Allan Hammons used his business expertise to help jump-start the project. PHOTO BY THOMAS GRANING

the museum all-inclusive for everybody.”

Not Just A Museum The B.B. King Museum aims to improve the health and education of an entire town.

By Clancy Smith he children giggle and fidget as

Tthey gather together in a spacious room carved out of a renovated brick cotton gin. The instructor signals. Silence. Every eye watches her with an almost scary intensity. She waves her arms, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Giggling again, the children copy her every move. She stomps her feet. Dozens of little feet pitter-patter against the wood floor. Laughter from dozens of excited elementary school kids fills the room. They jump up and down, up and down, begging for more.