Finding 'American Culture' On the Road

From Breaux Bridge Cajun to Jazz in Tucson, Music Mash-Up is Real

“Persistence Determines Achievement.”

So reads the bench at the top of the hill I climbed near Sentinel Peak in the Tucson Mountains of Arizona. Someone has painted the words along one of the metal slats, and I smile as I look down far below me at the morning rush hour in my home town, as I turn to see the mountains that surround me, 360 degrees.

It has taken some persistence to get here, driving thousands of miles for many hours through all kinds of weather, through all kinds of terrain. It is an achievement, though I still have many days to go to complete my trip. I have certainly found harmony in the places I’ve visited, people who are trying to maintain the beauty and connectedness of their culture in a variety of ways, through music and food and rituals.

The harmony this chilly sunny morning is evident in the chatter of the desert birds, the chirp of the tiny hummingbird that stops to rest on the blooming ocotillo. Wildflowers color the dusty terrain a bright yellow with dots here and there of purple, and red. My phone has died so I don’t stop to take photos, I just stop to take it in myself, to remember it in my mind, to breathe in the fresh Arizona air, to revel in the blue blue sky.

Since New Orleans, I have traveled through Louisiana and Texas, into New Mexico briefly and, finally, into Arizona.

Having parked on the parade route in New Orleans, like a dope, I got on the road later than I’d planned and didn’t make it to Houston for the night. Figuring I would just get as far as I could, I couldn’t help but stop off in the town of Beaux Bridge ,“la capitale Mondiale de l'ecrevisse” or “The Crawfish Capital of the World”. I’d spent some time in this little Cajun town in the St. Martin Parish of Louisiana years back with my family, and I could almost smell the spices used to in the crawfish boil as I did a quick detour and pulled in excitedly to the Crazy ‘Bout Crawfish Cajun Cafe.

From Left: Pitstop at Crazy ‘Bout Crawfish Cajun Cafe in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana; the Crawfish; Blacked Alligator

The cute young staff greeted me with true Southern hospitality, and showed me to the little bar.

“You want one pound, two pounds, or three?” the young man questioned in his lovely accent. I just got one pound, for $12, and was thrilled when the little crustaceans were placed in front of me not long later, filling my nostrils with their sweet spice. I was making my way through them — guided by my friend how to hold them head up in my left hand and rip them apart from the neck and suck. Pure joy, delicious.

A man came in and sat down beside me and began ribbing the staff, who he obviously knew well. I laughed at his comments, then he nodded at my basket. “You only doin’ one pound? What’s wrong with ya’, can’t ya’ handle more?”

Warren went on to tell me I had to try the blackened alligator, and ordered some for me direct from the chef, who’d stepped out to greet him. I tore through it so fast and greedily that my new friend made fun of me.

I told him about my travels, about my search for harmony, and he nodded. He told me I should stay the night for the music—it was Saturday night, and everyone gathered for great Cajun music and dancing. He talked in grave tones about the importance of not losing the Cajun culture that permeated the area.

“Everyone is welcome here, but if they can’t blend…it’s a problem. This food, this music, everything, has been passed down from the grandparents. It has to stay.”

I knew what he meant. It’s what I had loved about this little town, that it was so unique and special, that it hadn’t succumbed to the mass culture of America, to eradicating its traditions and roots in favor of…what? What did we have when we lost the very specific rituals of our forefathers? What was ‘American’ culture? Warren said he was himself part Choctaw, and we chatted for a while about the challenging shifts that have happened, and continue to happen, to beautiful cultures over time.

I thanked Warren for the chat and the delicious alligator, which he bought for me, and hit the road with some regret, vowing to come back and witness the Cajun music traditions another time. There is a Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival that plays host to over 30 Cajun, Zydeco and Swamp Pop bands May 3-5 that I read about…tempting.

I turned on Cajun music on Spotify to mollify me as I rolled a bit further down the road, thinking I might get to Houston but remembering as it grew dark that I cannot hurtle along highways at night at all happily.

I stopped in Lake Charles, Louisiana, and came into the cute historic downtown area to find it filled with revelers in green. There was a St. Patrick’s day bar crawl, and the music venue I’d found had a long line out the door that I didn’t feel like braving. I found a Days Inn nearby and rested for the night, looking ahead to reaching Austin, Texas, dubbed the “Live Music Capital of the World” in 1991, for some sort of music-filled brunch.

Driving through torrential rains, the highway flooding under my car, the sun nowhere to be seen even getting near 9 am, I kept my mind on the music I’d see once I hit Austin. I’d forgotten that music festival South by Southwest was happening in town the week leading up to my Sunday arrival. I’m not usually one for festival crowds, though waiting in line for Stubb’s Gospel Brunch with a man who’d come to Austin for the festival from North Carolina, I felt like maybe it would be cool.

Rick Sumner had been to reknown music venue Stubb’s before, apparently to see Blues Traveler, who had actually come to the bar at Northwestern when I was in college. He’d brought his son to SXSW for his 21st bday, and they’d spent the weekend seeing a variety of bands from punk to hip-hop. This—an all-you-can-eat Bar-B-Q brunch featuring the music of Wesley Bray and the Disciples of Joy, was the finale. The food and music did not disappoint. Wesley and his wife of 34 years, Cynthia, sang their hearts out and told inspirational healing stories of how God’s love had saved them time and time again.

From left: my FIRST plate of brisket, eggs, sausage and potatoes (not pictured, the biscuits and gravy and pecan pie offered in a separate room), washed down with a Lone Star; Wesley Bray and the Disciples of Joy; posters of some of the many bands that have played at Stubb’s over

From Austin, I settled back in to my Jeep Grand Cherokee (the tank I was given after my pathetic Toyota Corolla Cross pooped out), and listened to the Texas Country music mix on Spotify. My personal favorite is “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys,” by Littlefield, Texas native Waylon Jennings and Abbott, Texas native Willie Nelson, played as I hurtled along toward the high desert, high-style town of Marfa.

I made a reservation along my route for a canvas tent -unheated but with a heated mattress pad to protect against the windy 44-degree night, at the coolio El Cosmico.

I’d decided to spring for the pricey tent in lieux of my own (sadly, with my son in L.A.) cause the compound looked super cool, and was one of the only available options inthe funky artsy desert town I’d passed through briefly once before after visiting nearby Big Bend National Park with my son —where we’d camped under the crazy stars, something he was able to check off his bucket list. I’d also fallen in love with it watching the one season of TV series “I Love Dick” with Kevin Bacon and Kathryn Hahn.

I had no idea of El Cosmico’s its heritage, that it was opened 17 years ago by Austin hotelier Liz Lambert who’d started the Trans-Peco music festival on its grounds before officially opening the campground/hotel with its variety of trailers, tents, teepees and yurts. The stages set around were, sadly, empty of performers during my brief stay, but I could imagine it filled with festival-goers, taking turns in the fired hot tubs and the outdoor showers.

I met a woman staying in a cool trailer and it turns out she’s from Ft. Greene.

“It’s a direct line from Brooklyn to El Cosmico,” she joked. She was there visiting for Spring Break with her son and friends, touring around to the funky art installations. Like Brooklyn, El Cosmico has become extremely stylish and fancy. I wondered at how it might have been at the beginning... Now, I was told, it’s about to go through even bigger changes, and get developed elsewhere nearby into a 65-acre housing and hotel site:( I regretted that I hadn’t been there way back when.

I stayed longer than planned in Marfa, meeting all kinds of people who’d gone out of their way to stop in this strange town, for a brief visit or an extended one. It has a strange allure. When I looked up the name Marfa, what came up was a form of celebratory rhythmic music and dance from India, practiced among the Hyderabadi Muslims and adapted from Afro-Arab music of Hadhramawt in Yemen. I thought of Warren and his desire to keep things pure. History shows that some blending always occurs, for better or worse.

I got on the road as my father was expecting me in Tucson. As I passed through El Paso, I got the chills seeing the wall that has been erected between the U.S. and Mexico, wondering at how the cultures can have been so blended and yet so many problems exist in the attempts to figure how to handle such integration well.

I thought of my own upbringing in Tucson, how Mexican culture so inundated my life. As I drove, I salivated just thinking about Casa Molina, a longtime favorite local chain of Mexican restaurants, for margaritas and the signature Cheese Crisp, Tucson’s special huge tortillas baked with cheese and green chiles and cut like a pizza. Yum.

The musical choice for my first Tucson evening, though, wasn’t mariachi, but rather the new Century Room jazz and Mezcal bar at the historic Hotel Congress in downtown Tucson. The venue, managed by Tucsonan Arthur Vint, a drummer I met funnily enough years back at Barbes in Brooklyn, has since its 2022 opening quickly become a world-class jazz club! I couldn’t be more excited to have this place to come when I’m in Tucson. Guitarist Bill Frisell is playing solo guitar April 9, and sax great Donny McCaslin is on the calendar for April 12th. Awesome. I was lucky enough to catch the 17-piece Century Room Jazz Orchestra, inspired by the Village Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, which plays every Monday night.

The Century Room Jazz Orchestra featuring Big Band tunes every Monday night at The Hotel Congress in Tucson.

I’m hoping to catch some country music tonight, we’ll see. Stay tuned!! More adventures to come!!

In peace and harmony…

XX

Steph