It’s funny what immediately comes to mind when you hear someone you knew just died.
When I saw a text saying Prince Mongo died, my first reaction was surprise. And at the same time sadness. And then a smile without actually smiling as I remembered talking to him over the years.
This is the guy who said he was from the planet he called “Zambodia.” He called everybody, including me, “Spirit.” He went everywhere — at least when I saw him — barefoot. No shoes. Although I did see him just going around in socks when he once insisted on showing me how to properly park my truck. More on that later.
Then I remember the “Prince Mongo for Mayor” posters when he ran for mayor of Memphis.
I also remember his angry neighbors when he cluttered up the front yard at least two (that I know of) of his residences.
And I remember going to Mongo’s Planet, which was downtown at Front Street and Union Avenue. He showed me his living quarters above the club one time back in the ‘70s, I think it was. I remember the pile of money on his bed. It looked l like he just tossed it there and went on his way.
His clubs were controversial. He also owned another club, The Castle, which was in the historic Ashlar Hall home in Midtown. According to a 2,000 story in the Memphis Flyer, “On Wednesday, October 17th, Robert ‘Prince Mongo’ Hodges lost Round Two in his battle to defend The Castle, his controversial nightclub. The Memphis Alcohol Commission indefinitely revoked Hodges’ beer license for the Midtown club, located in Ashlar Hall at 1397 Central Avenue.
“The license revocation will have not have an immediate effect on the nightclub as it is already temporarily enjoined from having any alcohol on the premises. The injunction, imposed last week by Criminal Court Judge Chris Craft, will be in effect until November 20th, when a full Criminal Court hearing on public nuisance charges will occur.
“The Castle has been the focus of negative attention due to allegations of underage drinking, public nudity, and patrons disrupting the neighborhood. A smattering of the most out-spoken of The Castle’s opponents were on hand for the Alcohol Commission hearing, as was the club’s colorful front man, Prince Mongo.”
The first time I met Mongo was before he was known as “Prince Mongo.” He was Robert Hodges, the owner of a men’s clothing store called “Dalion et Rae” on Union Avenue. I always wondered if anybody else but me knew that he lifted his store name from the swanky women’s store of the same name in the 1961 version of the movie, Back Street, that starred Susan Hayward. In the movie, Hayward was a dress designer named “Rae” and Reginald Gardner was “Dalion,” the owner of the business. I never asked Mongo about this. I guess he just thought the name sounded ritzy.
I was in high school or early college when I went to Dalion et Rae for the first time to buy some expensive clothes. Everyone my age thought it was so cool that a short-haired Hodges, dressed very preppish and wearing shoes, would greet you at the door with a can of Coors beer, which you couldn’t get in Memphis at the time. I remember my brother and his friends making trips to Oklahoma to buy it. My brother and his friends also visited Mongo at his house, which was on the street behind the store. They said he owned a pet chimpanzee.
I never knew where he was born. Wikipedia says, “The details of Prince Mongo’s life remain obscure or unknown, though he claims that he is an ambassador from (Zambodia) where he was born 333 years ago.”
In 2014, Action News 5 featured Mongo in its Trivia History:”A federal judge (Harry Welford) ruled that one of Memphis’ most eccentric personalities suffered from a mental disease on April 8, 1980.
“The ruling entitled Robert Hodges, better known as Price Mongo, to receive $2,000 per month from an insurance policy, according to G. Wayne Dowdy’s compilation “On this Day in Memphis History.
“In Judge Harry W. Wellford’s courtroom, a bare-foot Prince Mongo wearing a knee-length fur coat claimed he was a 334-year-old refugee from the planet called Zambodia. He sprinkled white powder on the floor to ward off evil spirits.”
“Never said I’m crazy, but I’ll tell you this: I don’t know many people who are sane,” said Mongo in response to the verdict. “This is a victory for the people. We’re tired of being pushed and pulled by the superpowers here on earth.”
“Wellford noted Mongo’s bizarre behavior and said it apparently worsened since 1976, which was a couple of years before Mongo ran for mayor of Shelby County. He continued pursuing public office for years to come.”
I’d see Mongo over the next few.decades at Pete & Sam’s. He and the late owner, Sam Bomarito, were close friends. Every time I tried to photograph Mongo he’d immediately look upwards. I couldn’t get him to look straight into the camera.
He’d often wear a long wig, which prompted people to think I was Prince Mongo.
When the Memphis Flyer moved its offices to the Cotton Exchange Building, I called Mongo. I heard he owned the parking lot next to the building. So, I asked him if I could pay to park there. He said yes.
I remember running into Mongo at the parking lot one morning. He didn’t like the way I was parking my truck in my space identified by a sign reading “Mike.” I got out and he got in the driver’s seat. He did some complicated maneuvering and parked my truck in what I thought was a very awkward position. I thanked him and in the future I never parked the way he did that day. I just parked the way I always did.
In recent years, I’d see Mongo at the Kroger on Mendenhall Road. One of the last times was when I was at a self-checkout station. I was about to pay when all of a sudden an arm shot out from behind me. The hand on the arm stuck a credit card into the credit card reader. It was Mongo’s hand. Without saying a word, Mongo paid for my groceries.
Just writing all this made me smile. I’m sure he has his detractors, but today I’m just remembering the Mongo I knew.
If you believe like I do, then the guy who used to call me “Spirit” is now a spirit himself.
