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Tupelo’s Paul Thorn Returns to His Roots


Thirty years ago last month, Tupelo songwriter/singer Paul Thorn climbed into a boxing ring in Atlantic City to fight his childhood idol, Roberto Duran, he of the famed Hands of Stone.

It was a seminal moment for Thorn, one he does not regret – despite all the blood.

“Duran whupped me,” Thorn said before a recent appearance in Meridian. “He whupped me good. He was a better man.”

The fight went six rounds before Thorn’s corner threw in the towel. Both fighters were taken to the hospital for stitches and treatment. They rode together, side by side, in an ambulance.

Inside Thorn’s bloodied head, a light went off. “That showed me I wasn’t going to become a champion,” he said. “I was a good fighter at a certain level. I won at the state and regional levels in Golden Gloves. I had skills but I didn’t have that super skill it takes to be a world champion.”

Thorn fought three more fights, won them all, but he knew – Duran had showed him – he had no real future in the fight game.

So he went back home to Tupelo, went to work in a furniture factory and began writing songs and learning to perform them. The son of a Pentecostal preacher, he had grown up in a house where the devil’s music – rock and roll, rhythm and blues, etc. – was taboo. His music was the gospel music he sang and played in his daddy’s churches, both black and white. As a child, he hid his two rock and roll albums from his parents. Now, the devil’s music was becoming his life.

That life has come full circle recently. Thorn and his band have recorded their first gospel album – “Don’t Let the Devil Ride” – and you can see how it happened in the documentary “Paul Thorn: The Making of …” on Mississippi Public Broadcasting at 8 p.m Monday night, May 7.

This isn’t just any gospel album. Thorn and his band are joined by the Blind Boys of Alabama, the McCrary Sisters, Bonnie Bishop, and the horns section of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. The album was made at famed Sam Phillips Studios in Memphis, FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals, Ala., and Preservation Hall in New Orleans.

“I always wanted to do a gospel record,” Thorn said. “It’s an homage to my upbringing. Growing up, I sang gospel music and played the tambourine in my daddy’s churches and listened to gospel music at home. Going to church, singing with black people, singing with white people, I learned how to play music. It’s in my heart. It’s my roots and my foundation, and it had to be done.”

Thorn has dedicated the album to his mother and father. Yes, he said, they approve.

Thorn, now 53, has grown a huge fan base around the country, recording 11 albums over the past 21 years. His lyrics often have been compared to those of his musical hero, John Prine.

Of Prine, Thorn says, “He’s the best of the best. He’s a sweetheart. He’s my favorite songwriter. His songs are so powerful. He is so tuned into human feelings. That’s why his fans stay with him for life. He’s the Muhammad Ali of song writing.”

Thorn’s not bad either. You go to one of his concerts and you quickly learn that the audience knows all the words and doesn’t mind singing along. And Thorn, who still looks like he could go six or seven rounds, always regales his fans with stories that relate to his songs.

Recently, he told the story about writing the song “Viagra” with some help from his father, the Pentecostal preacher.

His father, he said, came up with the idea of rhyming Viagra with Niagara.

“My father is a wonderful man of God, but he is not a fully developed song writer like me,” Thorn said, smiling.

In the song, Thorn rhymes the words “failure” and “genitalia.”

“Now, see, that was me,” he said. “Failure and genitalia. That’s song writin’.”

There’s much humor in Thorn’s songs. There’s also no shortage of strippers, desire, lust, sin and salvation. Thorn has lived it all. And lived to write and sing about it.

And, yes, he said, he still loves boxing.

“Watch it every chance I get,” he said. “I love the sport. I wasn’t able to become a champion, but I fully understand the skill and courage that it takes.”


This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

Fitness Friday With Chelsea Chapman

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Welcome to Fitness Friday on OurTupelo! My name is Chelsea Chapman, otherwise known as StaxFitness. I have been a Personal Trainer for nearly six years now and have loved every second of it.

As a trainer, my philosophy for training is simple: I train you for life.

Why, you ask? There are so many limits the human mind puts on what we think we are capable to do and to not do with our bodies. We also live in a society where you are to do and not to do certain things when it comes to being “healthy” — most of which are extreme and unnecessary.

Not everyone can Intermittent Fast, not everyone can Keto, not everyone can make it to the gym for 2 hours, not everybody likes to run, not everybody wants to lift a house — but that’s great, because that means we are our own individuals. But we can all take simple steps to simplify our life and create the best and healthiest versions of ourselves!

When asked to do these Fitness Friday articles, I was thrilled, because I’m about to give you my insight on simplifying Health and Fitness — by using the KISS method (Keep It Simple, Silly).

Over the next few weeks, we will cover several different topics that I will poll from each week from my Facebook Page, so feel free to come give your opinion in the upcoming polls! I look forward to hearing from you!

Chelsea Stacks
StaxFitness - Formulated to be different Personal Trainer Services: Individual, Small Group, Bootcamp

Eating Out with Jeff Jones

Eating Out with Jeff Jones

By ADAM ARMOUR

Five minutes before they open to welcome the lunchtime crowd, Dorsey’s Jeff Jones is already peering through the glass doors of Tupelo’s Forklift restaurant, hands cupped just beneath the brim of his trademark white paper braid fedora to block the reflection.

He comments on what he sees … the look of the decor, the yellow Edison-style light bulbs, the shelves crammed with jars of pickled veggies at the far end of the dining area. “It looks great,” he says.

This is the first important step in his process — getting a feel for the place.

“It’s not just the food,” he says, turning away from the glass. “You eat with your eyes first. Anybody can serve something that tastes good. It’s special when you build a world around it.”

Jones should know. For more than five years, he’s been routinely chronicling through his words and photographs visits to local eateries.

He posts them to his blog, Eating Out with Jeff Jones, and his Facebook page of the same name, where he’s reviewed more than 140 restaurants and foodie events from across Northeast Mississippi, often multiple times.

Over the years, he’s become a sort of go-to when it comes to local eateries.

Want to know if that hole-in-the-wall is worth a visit? Ask Jones.

Which plate is a can’t miss? Jones will have an opinion.

How’s the atmosphere at that new joint? Chances are, Jones has already been. He’ll happily share his thoughts.

Jones doesn’t claim to be a critic, per say; he describes himself as a restaurant promoter. Think of the Food Network and the places their hosts visit. They don’t criticize the dishes; they celebrate them. That’s Jones, more enthusiast than connoisseur.

“My goal is to show people the greatness our area has to offer,” he says. “They’ve gone to all the trouble to build a dream and make it come true. I want to put forth as much effort in what I do and help them out.”

Once inside the restaurant, Jones bypasses the host entirely and begins flitting around the joint, snapping hundreds of photos with his phone.

Several members of the waitstaff stop to watch him, clearly baffled.

Eventually, he chooses a table, placing his back to the wall, the whole dining area spread out in front of him.

“When I first walk in, I try to find the best vantage point,” he says as he looks over the menu. He looks up, grins. “Plus, if you’re not sure what to eat, you can watch as they bring out the orders.”

Jones first began writing about local restaurants because, frankly, nobody else really was. He’d post about a restaurant on Yelp, or read the handful of Google Reviews about some place he’d heard about. But there wasn’t any one spot to scope out the oodles of local eateries that seemed to come and go like trays on a buffet.

There were so many places he’d never visited — simply because he didn’t know what to expect when he got there. He asked himself how many other people were doing the exact same thing.

“There are great restaurants around that you’ve never heard of,” he says. “There may be a restaurant you’ve driven by a hundred times but never stopped at because you don’t know what to expect.”

Many restaurants, he says, shutter before most people ever have a chance to sample one bite. Jones considers that a minor tragedy.

“People miss out on some really great food,” he says, his voice just north of wistful. His goal is to give his readers the feeling of having already stepped inside a restaurant before they ever do so. Of making the unfamiliar eatery as comfortable as a familiar haunt.

In his pieces, he describes the food he eats, the atmosphere of the restaurant, the decor, the patrons and his own personal connection with the place, if he has one.

When the waiter stops by the table for the first of what will be nearly a dozen times during the meal, Jones grills him on the menu, asking questions about the ingredients of the food, what people are saying about it and what his personal favorites are. Jones typically orders a variety of plates during his visits, and this time is no exception. He orders bruschetta for starters and the meatloaf for the main.

“I’ve always loved food,” he says as he waits on his order. “I have a day job. That’s where I do my work. This … this is my passion.”

For a moment, he waxes poetic about chow.

“To me, good food is like music: There’s enough variety for everybody to enjoy,” he says.

The waiter returns, arms filled with plates of food. Unloaded, there’s little room left on the table. Rather than start his meal, Jones begins meticulously arranging his plates. He snaps photos of his food, dozens of them, carefully posing each course to hit the perfect angle.

As he rotates his meatloaf, he chuckles.

“I take so much time trying to get just the right photo of my food that it gets cold,” he says. “But that’s all right. They spent time plating and trying to make the food look really good. I want to make sure I get it just right.”

His work doesn’t go unnoticed. His Facebook page alone has more than 3,200 followers. Posts are accompanied by dozens of comments and questions from his readers. Even the customer at the table next to his said she’s read some of his reviews.

Partway through his meal, Forklift’s owner, Fulton native David Leathers, drops by the table to speak with Jones and have their photo taken together.

“Visiting local restaurants like this, you get to meet so many people,” Jones says. “It’s not just about the food; it’s about the community.”

Jones hopes that comes across in his writing and photographs.

“A place doesn’t have to be fancy, but it has to be good and it has to be run by good people,” he says.

Once he finishes his meal, Jones orders dessert — a monstrous ice cream sandwich that look as if it’s meant to feed a family. When the waiter asks if Jones will be sharing it, he puffs.

“Share?” he asks, then laughs as if the suggestion is absurd.

Jones spends so much time posing the sandwich for photographs, most of the ice cream is melted by the time he gets around to actually eating it. When he picks it up, rivulets of ice cream run down his fingers.

He shakes his head and sighs.

“I suffer all the time,” he says. His wry grin stretches open, transforming into a mouthful of food.

adam.armour@journalinc.com
Twitter: @admarmr