Mystery Train

Place and Time: Memphis, 1954

Ruth checked herself in the mirror again. She didn't know why she was taking such pains. It wasn't even a date, just another evening hanging out at JB's Blues on Beale Street. Her sister Lily was dating the owner, and he'd invited them both to see a new act. "You've got to see this guy," he'd told them. "He used to come and play here a lot before he got recorded. He's got something."

Ruth was curious. She'd heard the singer on the radio and couldn't figure him out. The song was an old Big Boy Crudup tune, but it didn't sound like any blues she'd ever heard before: "That's all right, mama / That's all right for you." He'd started out high, almost sounded like a hillbilly, but it wasn't hillbilly music. "That's all right now, mama / Just any way you do, but that's all right, that's all right…" It was strange. White boys don't sing like that, and she knew he was white. She'd heard Daddy-O Dewey Phillips interview him on the radio.

She'd bought the record and was even more confounded when she listened to the flip side. It was a bluegrass song, of all things, but he blazed through it like no bluegrass she'd ever heard: "Blue moon of Kentucky, won't you keep on shining / Shine on the one who's gone and left me blue," his voice keening and hiccupping, then swooping down into a low, sexy growl, like…it wasn't country, it wasn't blues. What was this crazy record, anyway? She'd asked J.B. "Who is this guy, what does he call his music?" J.B. just shrugged. "I don't know. They've been calling him The Hillbilly Cat. He's a nice kid, though." J.B. grinned. "And the ladies sure go for him."

Ruth wondered. She'd long since learned to spot white boys who sniffed around her, wondering if it was true What They Said About Black Girls. She'd never let them get anywhere. J.B. made this sound different, though. A white boy who hung out on Beale Street for the music, not the girls? He might be interesting, at that.

**************

Ruth and Lily entered the club and immediately spotted J.B. waving them over to his table. The lights dimmed as they reached him. "Sit down. The show's starting."

Ruth looked up at the trio onstage. Two guitars and a bass. She couldn't help but stare at the one in the middle. He couldn't be more than 20. Tight black pants and an outrageous pink jacket, embroidered with lightning bolts. Long sideburns and pompadoured hair that shone so black it almost seemed to glow. She tried to think if she'd ever seen a handsomer man, but when he flashed a grin at the crowd, she stopped wondering. This was the best looking man she'd ever seen.

He stepped up to the mike, grinned again, and started out on an impossibly high note: "Weee –eeelll…I heard the news, there's good rockin' tonight / Well I heard the news, there's good rockin' tonight," then swooping down to a lower, insinuating register: "I'm gonna hold my baby just as tight as I can / Tonight she'll know I'm a mighty mighty man / I heard the news, there's good rockin' tonight. "

He paused to let the lead guitarist solo, but as he did he twitched his legs in time to the music, prompting shrieks from a few women in the crowd. He grinned again, exaggerating the movement now, and almost looked ready to laugh at the louder reaction.

Ruth didn't scream, but for the rest of the set she felt as if she was holding her breath. When they finished, she almost panicked when J.B. motioned the trio over and introduced them to her.

"Don't want the lady hanging with a bad element, J.B.," quipped Bill, the bass player.

"If she knows J.B., she's already with a bad element," said Scotty, the guitarist, laughing.

The singer stopped them. "Hey, c'mon, man, you're embarrassing her."

"Hey," said Bill, "Your mama wouldn't approve of you hanging around in these clubs, would she?"

"My mama doesn't approve of me hanging around with you, man," he returned, as Scotty burst into laughter. "Nobody's mama would."

Drinks were served, and Ruth noticed he wasn't drinking. "Underage. Nineteen," he told her. "Me, too," she said. "J.B. only lets me in because he knows I love blues."

"Same here," he said. "He caught me listening at the back door one time and invited me in. There's nothing like real blues."

"But that's not what you play," she blurted, then tried to take it back. "I mean…not that it isn't good…I like it, but…"

He grinned. "Yeah, we get that a lot. 'It ain't blues. It ain't hillbilly. What is it?' But we can play blues if you like. What's your favorite blues song?"

She thought a moment. "How about 'Mystery Train'?"

"Great! We've been working on a version of that." He looked to the others. "C'mon, we'll put it in the second set."

They mounted the stage and the lights dimmed again.

Ruth knew the song well. It was slow and spooky, about a man who lost his girl on a train that was taking her away, a train they both seemed to ride, but which seemed to run away from itself. She wondered what he would make of it.

Scotty and Bill began to play, a rapid churning train rhythm. He stepped up to the mike and tore into the song: "Train I riiii-iiide, sixteen coaches long / Train I riiii-iiide, sixteen coaches long. Well that long black train / Got my baby and gone." He didn't sound mournful or despairing. Instead, he seemed to be revving himself up, as if he could run that train down. "Train, train / comin' round the bend. Train, train / comin' round the bend. Well it took my baby / But it never will again / No, not again." It was incredible. She could almost feel him turning the train around, bringing her back "Train, train / Comin' down, down the line. Train, train / Comin' down the line. Well it's bringin' my baby / Cause she's mine, all all mine / she's mine all all mine."

Scotty took a guitar solo, but she couldn't take her eyes off him as he gathered himself to hurl one last thunderbolt of a verse, as if she was the girl he was stealing off that train: "Train, traiiiin / comin' round, round the bend (round, round the bend). Train, TRAIIIIN / comin' round, round the bend (round the bend). Well it took my baby / But it never will again, Never Will Again." He threw his head back and let out a celebratory "Whoop," as if they'd gotten off the train and got away clean and free. Ruth found herself on her feet, whooping too, as if she'd gotten away with him.

It was the greatest thing she'd ever heard.

*******

There was a knot of girls at the front of the stage when the set was over, but he made his way through them, back to the table. He smiled at Ruth. "So, what did you think?"

"I don't know what you call it, but it was the best thing I've ever heard."

The place was emptying out. Scotty and Bill had already wandered off with a couple of girls. J.B. and Lily had retreated to his private office. He offered to walk her home. Ruth had never even gone out with a white boy, let alone taken one home, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to say yes. Just as it felt like the most natural thing in the world when he came up with her to her room.

The first few kisses were soft, tentative, almost shy. Even when they began to undress each other, they took their time. She wondered if it was his first time with a black girl, but she didn't ask. Once they were naked, they lay on the bed, still gently kissing. She passed her hands over his smooth chest, his wide shoulders, while he slowly caressed her full breasts, her soft ass and thighs. After a long time, they pulled each other closer. When he entered her, it was smooth and slow at first, but soon he began to buck and moan, plunging deeper and deeper inside her. It was just like when he was on stage, she thought: All that heat and electricity seemed to pass through her, too, and soon she was gripping him tightly, writhing wildly, her hips rising to meet his every thrust.

When it was over, they lay quietly for a while.

"Shall I stay?" he said.

Ruth smiled. "Probably not a good idea. If the neighbors see you leaving in the morning…"

He smiled back. "I understand." He climbed out of bed and began to dress.

"I don't guess you'll be playing J.B.'s again anytime soon."

"We've got a tour set up. Won't be back in Memphis for a while. After that, it all depends. If they like us on the road, who knows what'll happen."

"They'll like you."

He grinned again. He really was the most beautiful man when he smiled, thought Ruth. "My fan!" he said. "And if they don't, I can always go back to driving a truck and hanging at J.B.'s."

"Then I'll see you either way," said Ruth.

"I guess so," he said, and leaned over the bed. "I'll be looking forward to that." He bent down and kissed her. "Good night."

"Good night."

Ruth lay for a long time in the dark afterwards. She wondered if there were other white men like that. Probably not. No men, white or black, quite like that. She probably wouldn't see him again. 'Mystery train, sixteen coaches long, got my baby and gone.' She smiled. That wasn't a blues. Not now. Not anymore.

******

Elvis
White trash
Elvis
The Memphis Flash
Elvis
Didn't smoke hash
Would have been a sissy without Johnny Cash.

Elvis
Under the hood
Elvis
With Cadillac blood
Elvis
Darling bud
Flowered and returned to the Mississippi mud.

-from "American David" by Bono

*******

Note: The songs quoted in the story are "That's All Right, Mama," "Blue Moon of Kentucky," "Good Rockin' Tonight," and "Mystery Train." All can be heard on "The Complete Sun Sessions."