The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

The City: St. Louis #6

Frankie Baker revisits the site of the scene of the crime, 1942.

As reported in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch on October 20, 1899, 22-year-old Frankie Baker, "an ebony-hued cake-walker" shot two-timer "Johnnie" - 17-year-old Albert Britt - at 22 Targee Street on October 15, 1899. The "other woman" was Alice Pryor. Baker claimed that she used self-defense in fending off a knife attack and was acquitted of the murder of Britt. Though released by the authorities, the ballad, "Frankie and Johnnie," allowed Frankie Baker no peace of mind. She left St. Louis, hounded by the song, and settled first in Omaha, Nebraska, and finally in Portland, Oregon. Her attempts at legal remedies to quiet the song and film portrayals were in vain. Baker died in a Portland mental institution in 1950.

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