LIVE AT JACKSON STATION

An account of an extraordinary Southern musical oasis and the tragedy that shut it down.

“Throughout the 1980s, Jackson Station Rhythm & Blues Club of Hodges, South Carolina, was one of the liveliest places to be,” writes sociology professor Harrison in this well-reported book. In terms of musical significance, Jackson was like a juke joint for a new generation, a place for musicians to sustain and nurture themselves and to play until sunrise for increasingly lubricated fans. It was also run by two openly gay men in a region not known for its tolerance; the no-nonsense mother of one of the men worked the door and turned away anyone she didn’t like. It was something of a safe haven where nearly anyone—gay, straight, White, Black, redneck, hippie, etc.—could mingle and enjoy the music. There were usually a few cows outside, and you could find marijuana, cocaine, and LSD if you knew where to look. Jackson served as a crucible for Widespread Panic in its early days and launched the career comeback of Nappy Brown, and it was the home away from home for touring blues artists and a place where newer acts, many from Athens, Georgia, could find a booking. Sadly, it all came crashing down when co-owner Gerald Jackson, a Vietnam vet seemingly beloved by everyone, followed a drunken customer into the parking lot to argue over a small amount of money. The customer hit Jackson in the head with an ax, which didn’t kill him but left him a quadriplegic “who needed twenty-four-hour attention.” Though Harrison tries to do a little too much with the narrative—an amalgam of musicological analysis of the history of the blues, a sociological and historical survey of the region, and the function of such a club within it—the basic facts of the story make it abundantly clear that Jackson was truly something special.

Fans of the blues and lively music clubs will find this fascinating.