The Crossroads Mythos
In myths and folk tales, crossroads are often a link between two worlds. Neither the start of the trip, nor the destination, the crossroads are a liminal space, somewhere outside of the ordinary confines of cultural expectation. In this unique spatial and temporal plane in between locations, it becomes possible for the traveler to create a world of their own. As Andrew Wood believes, spending time on the road can be “a departure from the script of everyday life, a place where travelers can still invent a new persona, a new past, a new destination” (Wood). The motels, cafes, and bars found at crossroads across America allowed a unique kind of anonymity to travelers that were simply passing through, one that is representative of a desire for the freedom of escape. The control over direct experience, or lack thereof, that the motorist is subjected to on the road is something that Eva Illouz notes in Consuming the Romantic Utopia happens in “three stages that characterize liminality: separation, marginalization, and reaggregation” (Illouz 143). By taking an individual out of their comfort zone and placing them in front of numerous possibilities, crossroads and other liminal spaces facilitate major personal transformations. In the myths and folk tales, these places are purported to act as doorways to the supernatural, sites where paranormal events occur and one can communicate with the spirit world.
While this crossroads motif can be recognized in ancient Greek stories like that of Oedipus, its prominence in contemporary imagination can largely be attributed to Mississippi Delta blues legend Robert Johnson. According to legend, the aspiring musician met the devil at the crossroads intersection of Highway 61 and Highway 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. In exchange for his soul, the devil tuned Johnson’s guitar, giving him extraordinary talent and fame. Johnson's early death at the age of 27 only fueled the rumors of his otherworldly agreement. Along with “Me and the Devil Blues,” Johnson’s “Cross Road Blues” has endured as a haunting reminder of the mystical liminality of the open road, as well as of the bygone days of eerie country backroads.
“I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees / Asked the Lord above, ‘Have mercy, now, save poor Bob if you please’”
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"Ooh, standin’ at the crossroad, tried to flag a ride / Ooh-ee, I tried to flag a ride / Didn’t nobody seem to know me, babe, everybody pass me by”
“Standin’ at the crossroad, baby, risin’ sun goin’ down / I believe to my soul, now, poor Bob is sinkin’ down”
Now a monument to Johnson’s legacy, the famed crossroads in Clarksdale serves as a textbook example of the concept of landscape vernacular. It is a location that was molded to reflect the historically-and-regionally-specific beliefs and attributes of the people who created and used it. In his book Vanishing Vernacular: Western Landscapes, photographer Steve Fitch describes landscape vernacular as something “endemic and common to a time or place, unique in its commonness, and always functional.” He says we associate them with “a particular geography, or perhaps more precisely, with our experience of that geography” (Fitch). Working with his definition, roadside amenities like gas stations and motels found across the country, yet unique in their regional character, embody the essence of vernacular landscape. In most cases, the neon signage found outside of these roadside services was one of the primary distinguishing features setting them apart as an example of landscape vernacular, due to their use of regional features.
Mazzola, J. (2009). [Clarksdale, MS crossroads] [Photograph]. Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ClarksdaleMS_Crossroads.jpg.