As part of a contest a few weeks ago, I challenged the people of Joplin to write a rap about our hometown.

As an incentive, I provided as grand prize a deluxe vinyl reissue of obscure hip-hop classics recorded during the birth of hip hop in Brooklyn between 1979 and 1982. Almost 10 people entered.

This was actually way more than I had anticipated, and determining a single winner was difficult.

Annie Clarkson, with the help of Mark Sullivan and Elliot Vasquez, actually recorded a version of her rap, “Get the Lead Out.” Over realistic mining sound effects, Vasquez raps Clarkson’s words about the history of Joplin while name checking numerous local legends and landmarks.

One miner died down in the mines,

His ghost returned with a light to shine,

He still appears ’most every night

Out south of town at the old Spooklight.

Obviously, I was impressed by Clarkson’s initiative and scope. Then I recalled high school and the numerous times ambitious kids with their fancy binders and bibliographies blew the curve.

I resolved to not be swayed by presentation, but judge solely on the words.

This meant I could not give any additional weight to Gene Herbert, proprietor of the local concert venue The Cesspool, who went to the trouble of submitting a video of a masked man rapping about Joplin. The video was a rather low budget and bizarre feature that I nonetheless truly appreciated.

In the end, Clarkson and many of the others were good, but there could be only one grand prize. I chose Jeremy L. Trowbridge of Joplin because I liked his line “hangin’ out with a squirrel.” I also liked how he balanced Joplin’s history of unsavory characters with a glimpse into his personal life.

Joplin, intersection of America,

Poppin’ revolvers and Jesse James is sparin’ a

Whole lotta folks,

Bonnie and Clyde too

Sad deal,

They both died too

Movin’ on to the next century, hidin’ out

Chi-Town mobsters, not to mention the

Most notorious, Al Capone, evading capture

Taxin’ he evaded, he felt the rapture

Then came the depression

Claimin’ bankruptcy, Prohibition, I’m confessin’

Jazz sessions opened the door to marijuana

Deadly back then, now just call it what you wanna

Off the top of my head, facts to look into

Don’t believe, library card you need to get you

Still the same today, technology on the rise

Relatives of crooks meetin’ they demise

What’s next? Hangin’ out with a squirrel?

I’m content with my prep-chef job at Cracker Barrel.

I refuse to become another junkie

Takin’ care of Mom, still writin’ raps funky

Lookin’ back and lookin’ forward at the same time

Focusing on all these changin’ times

Joplin showed me all of this in just three years

Ain’t nothin’ changed but more blood, sweat and tears.

(By the way Jeremy, send me an e-mail with your address so I can mail you your prize.)

There were quite a few other raps worth mentioning. I really liked one called “Poppin’ in Joplin.” Alexis Sargent, who goes by the name Chocolate Teen, and Quinten Sargent, who goes by Q-Tipp (don’t tell Q-Tip from A Tribe Called Quest), spin a sweet tale about traveling around Joplin and buying fresh gear until they’re “poppin’.”

Chocolate Teen raps: “You can go to the Arvest Bank. That’s what my brother suggests -n- that’s what I think. Now let’s go to the car lot shop, go to a place called Roper get a Corvette then go to Honda -n- getcha a Hummer. Only time ya drive it is in the summer. Then you be poppin’ in Joplin. C’mon!”

Then Q-Tipp comes in: “Make the car pop a wheelie, silly not really. We goin’ to the store called The Bling Palace. Maybe get you a grill or even a necklace. I did everything on my checklist.”

Does Joplin really have a jewelry shop called The Bling Palace? If not, it should.

Joe Shaft represented downtown nightlife by writing a rap where he cleverly worked in every bar in Joplin. His began: “I met this Kharacter at an OK Bar by this club in Miami not far from the shore. He was from Lil’ Chicago where the Nightlife was mean, and said he rolled with cats that could flood the room with green. He proceeded to spin a tale deep like Atlantis, Woody dense and thick like a jungle Tropicana.”

I also liked Adam Speer’s rap about growing up in Joplin. Speer’s last line in this verse was probably my favorite of the contest.

Yo, I been hated on for the way I felt

Gotta Jesus buckle for my bible belt

Ain’t a lot of M.C.s in this town that’s tight

Probly cuz it’s 91 percent white

Gotta go to a smoky bar for shows

But you get there and it’s a band that blows

Jus wanna getta drink with your girls and bros

But ya gotta sift through some nasty flows

Cuz in the city you’re guilty by design

Just like all of them strip malls on Range Line.

Stephen Smith’s opus, “Zinc is King,” exceeded my 200-word limit, but it was impressive in its ambition. If the Joplin museum is looking for a way to condense the history of Joplin into a “Schoolhouse Rock!” kind of project, this is your man.

“Zinc is King” begins: “Let me start out rappin’ how it all began, when men and women shoveled dirt and sand. It’s a story about hard work and love and hurt, a dream that began in a pile of rich dirt that turned into a city of steel and stone a story about a town that you call your home. It started with buckets and picks and chains, when Colonel Worth stood down at Fourth and Main, with lights in his heels and a smile on his face, he stood there grinning at the miners in a race.”

Jerry Brown turned in a tale of a kind of a bluesy, mini-odyssey about a Joplin miscreant who leaves and returns home in “My Hometown.” His narrator does time, got out and went to New Orleans. As the song ends, we find him returning to Joplin in a Cadillac.

That’s all for this year. I’ll probably do this again because I enjoyed reading all the entries. Many thanks to everyone who entered.

Keep rapping, Joplin.



Address correspondence to Jeremiah Tucker, c/o The Joplin Globe, P.O. Box 7, Joplin, MO 64802.