Music Completes The Look: Confluence

con-flu-ence: /ˈkɒnfluəns/ [kon-floo-uhns] -noun

1. a flowing together of two or more streams, rivers, or the like: the confluence of
the Missouri and Mississippi rivers.
2. their place of junction: St. Louis is at the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi
rivers.
3. a body of water formed by the flowing together of two or more streams, rivers, or the
like.
4. a coming together of people or things; concourse.
5. a crowd or throng; assemblage.

There is a small town at the very southern tip of Illinois, the confluence of the dark, muddy Mississippi and the pure, clear Ohio rivers. The town is called Cairo (pronounced Kay-row).

Cairo was once a thriving town, founded in 1837 as a perfect stop along the shipping routes of the Mississippi and Ohio rivers. It housed a U.S Customs House, one of only seven still in existence. During the Civil War, Cairo was a strategically important supply base and training center for the Union army. For several months General Ulysses S. Grant even had headquarters here. The town is surrounded by the most elaborate levee system in the United States. There is even a Congressional order that this town will never flood -- if flooding seems imminent, levees in towns south of Cairo must be blown, flooding those towns, rather than having Cairo be destroyed. Cairo seemed destined for prosperity.

But in the 1960's, the fate of the town took a swift turn. Cairo had a growing black population, though 100% of it's businesses were white owned. After the passing of the Civil Rights Act in 1964, the majority of white business owners refused to serve blacks. Those businesses that did follow the law and served blacks found their businesses quickly failing, as white customers refused to frequent them. In 1969, amid violent race riots and the boycotting of many white owned businesses by local blacks, white business owners closed their doors and moved out of Cairo, choosing to relocate rather than serve blacks. One by one, homes and businesses were abandoned, left open, as-is, to age and decay.

Today, Cairo is a ghost town. Where the population was once twenty-three thousand strong, it now hovers at a sad twenty-five hundred. Driving through the town is surreal, like being on the set of a war movie, or sci-fi film where the townsfolk have mysteriously disappeared -- "The Town That Time Forgot." On Millionaire's Row, the ruins of beautiful Victorian mansions lay dormant, crumbling, trees the new inhabitants of their stately rooms. Entire neighborhoods of turn-of-the-century bungalows are mere shells of their original glory. Cairo's main street, about a mile long, once lined with bustling department stores, beauty shops, diners, and clothes emporiums is now deserted. Some of the structures are still in tact, though their facades and innards have crushed and crumbled. Most of the buildings have succumbed to age and neglect, having simply given up and died. One such building has toppled into the street, but rather than clean it up, the town has, instead, decided to just block the street. The town has sat dormant for the past forty years.

Today, Cairo's population is 63% black. The average salary is 16,220.00 per year, with 33.5% of residents living under the poverty level.

It is ironic to me that Cairo is known as the Confluence of America, when it's own history seems to be the antithesis of the definition of confluence. Here is a city that was built on the idea of merging, melding and growth. Yet it's history shows segregation, separation, and decay. Even the rivers seem to tell the past: the muddy, dark Mississippi -- blacks -- and the pure, clear Ohio -- whites -- merge, but the Mississippi never mixes or flows into the waters of the Ohio. Massive levees protect a town that, for all intents and purposes, no longer exists. A Congressional order preserves a way of life that has disappeared.

Ride through Cairo and you will find a town that is ripe for revitalization. Homes can be purchased for a fraction of the standard cost. Businesses still stand, ready to be re-discovered. This is the stereotypical small town America. The people are some of the nicest you will find. They are personable, and perkier than the setting would suggest. They are proud of their home, despite it's history. I received a tour of the town by a member of Cairo's City Council. He drove me around, giving me insights into the town's once illustrious past. We visited the town library, an enormous, gorgeous architectural specimen, with a spectacular history of it's own. We visited the Customs House, previously a Federal Courthouse, now the town's museum. An elderly gentleman giddily took me through the myriad of displays that told the story of this town. His eyes gleamed as he told stories of not only Cairo's history, but of his remembrance of better times.

I was grateful for the chance to experience the way of life that is Cairo. I was glad to be able to experience some of the town's history, rather than leave with the thought that this town was sad and forgotten. I was delighted by it's citizens and actually look forward to returning.

Cairo makes you appreciate your own city. It makes you understand how far we as a nation have come, yet how far we have to go with accepting each other and our differences.

Will Cairo ever prosper again? Will Cairo ever be able to save itself? One can only hope.