Senator Jones was an entrepreneur on the soul/blues scene , veteran record man a Jackson Mississippi
native he spent many decades in New Orleans, where he recorded artists including Chris Kenner, Tommy Ridgely, Walter
“Wolfman” Washington and, most notably, Johnny Adams, for his labels including J.B.’s, Shagg, Super Dome,
and the still active Hep’ Me.
In 1989 Senator, who grew up in the Farish Street area and worked at the Blue Flame on the Gold Coast [an
entertainment district in Rankin County] at the age of nine, returned to Jackson in order to capitalize on the burgeoning
Southern Soul movement.
senator is credited as being the person to poularize the term "Southern Soul"
“There’s a traditional thing in New Orleans that won’t let [local music] leave Louisiana,”
explains Jones. “I said, “I’m going to have to go home to Jackson to do it.’” Once back, Jones
began recording local artists, including George Jackson, who cut the 1993 CD Heart To Heart Collect on the
British Black Grape label, and Sweet Miss Coffy [Veetta Smith, see LB #120], who recorded the cassette
Pistol/Knife/& Razor Too; he also cut singles on locals Pat Brown and Cadillac George Harris.
Since the early ‘90s Jones has worked closely with the New Orleans-based Mardi Gras Records. Several
of his first productions were a solo CD by Sweet Miss Coffy [see LB #120] and two compilations, Mississippi Burnin’ Bluesvolumes 1 & 2, featuring Coffy, Jackson, Harris, guitarist
Eddie Rasberry, Melvin “Smokehouse” Moore, and Robert Robinson, Elmore James’ longtime bassist.
More recently Senator had been at the forefront of the Southern Soul movement, spearheaded by the
young Sir Charles Jones, a Birmingham resident who recorded his smash CD, Love Machine, featuring
soul blues radio staples Friday and Is There Anybody Lonely, on Senator Jones’
“farm” in Bolton, the birthplace of Charley Patton, some 20 miles west of Jackson. Jones’ modest home, surrounded
by chickens, goats, and various animals, boasts a home studio with the latest studio technology. Often aided by Harrison Calloway,
“a genius of an arranger,” recent CDs have been recorded by Jones at the studio by Tanya, Cicero Blake, Barbara
Carr, Stan Mosely, and the Love Doctor [Louis Clark], whose Mardi Gras album The Doctor of Love, featuring
the Sir Charles Jones-penned hit Slow Roll It, reached#50 in the R&B charts
in 2001, prompting a lucrative lease deal with Universal Records.
In July of2007 Senator won tThe E.Rodney Jones Trailblazer award presented by The Jackson Music Awards.
At 69, lifelong hustler Senator wore many hats—producer, promoter, occasional artist, label
owner—and even worked as a deejay on Jackson’s WMPR on the 2-5am shift as “Uncle Bobo,” playing for
night-shift workers. “ “It’s a sweet shift to me, there’s nobody to worry you.”
Jack The Rapper Gibson
Negro-Appeal Radio Stations Using a Rhythm-and-Blues Music Format, 1947-1963
by Jack L. Ortizano Communication Arts Department Franciscan University of Steubenvillle Steubenville, Ohio
43952
ABSTRACT
The rhythm-and-blues radio format was one of the first segmented formats to succeed during the time when
television was replacing network radio as the nation's foremost mass medium, 1947-1963. A variation of so-called
"Negro-appeal; radio," the format featured black radio announcers who played recordings of rhythm-and-blues
music aimed at a primarily black audience. This research paper examines some of the leading radio stations that
were pioneers in employing the rhythm-and-blues radio format.They included southern stations such as WDIA in
Memphis and WERD in Atlanta, Midwestern stations such as WCHB in Detroit and WBEE in Chicago,
Northeastern stations such as WOOK in Washington, D.C., and WLIB in New York City, and Western stations
such as KDIA in Oakland-San Francisco and KGFJ in Los Angeles. The study briefly describes some of the disc
jockey personalities, programming policies and economic factors that made the stations successful in their own right
as well as establishing a precedent that led to the emergence of the highly successful rock 'n' roll and Top-40
formats that followed.
* * *
The rhythm-and-blues format was introduced by "Negro-appeal" radio stations that catered to the needs and
musical preferences of black listeners. It was among the first segmented, non-network, formats that prospered
during the early years of television_the late 1940s and 1950s. Although the video medium contributed to the decline
of live network-radio broadcasting, it also influenced the growth of locally based radio stations that featured
pre-recorded, musical programming. Rhythm-and-blues radio served as a model among these locally based formats.
It not only was very successful in its own right, it also provided the groundwork for the development of mainstream
rock music and the enormously popular Top-40 format that emerged during the late 1950s. The main attribute of
rhythm-and-blues radio was rhythm-and-blues music, a genre that flourished during the period between the end of
World War II and the onset of the Vietnam War.1 The music offered raucous instrumental tunes with screeching
saxophones that made the listener want to get up and dance. It also was characterized by slower, romantic love
songs performed by vocalists who sang in an intimate, heartfelt style. And it featured fast-paced vocal recordings
with a "big beat" that conveyed enthusiasm, joy and vitality. The music's spirit was youthful, urban and modern. Its
singers, distinguishably black, performed with more involvement than pop, more worldliness than gospel and more
emphasis on vocal technique than jazz. Yet, rhythm and blues unquestionably borrowed much from all three of these
music forms.2 The format followed in the tradition of the disc-jockey programs on mainstream radio that had been
popularized by Martin Block on his Make Believe Ballroom," which relied on pre-recorded material instead of live
performances.3 But unlike "Make Believe Ballroom," its music was primarily by and for black Americans. In the
late 1940s, much of the earliest rhythm-and-blues programming was broadcast in small segments. For example, a
radio station would try to attract a wider audience by adding a nightly rhythm-and-blues show to its schedule. Or, an
enterprising individual could purchase an hour of air time on a local station for the purpose of featuring rhythm and
blues. Stations with a full-time commitment to rhythm and blues did not surface until the music had already acquired
a large audience. Eventually, however, station managers in cities with substantial black populations were
encouraged to build an entire format around their audiences' increasing demand for rhythm and blues. This study
examines the principal Negro-appeal stations that broadcast the rhythm-and-blues format between 1947 and 1963.
These stations, grouped by region, were among the forerunners of all radio outlets with formats that aimed at a
specific, demographically defined audience. The South The reality of a full-time, Negro-appeal radio station was
born at WDIA in Memphis. A station that previously had broadcast classical music, it was purchased by white
entrepreneurs Bert Ferguson and John R. Pepper on June 7, 1947. The 250-watt station began broadcasting as a
full-time Negro-appeal outlet on October 25, 1948.4 Ferguson and Pepper wanted a black person to be the guiding
force behind WDIA. They chose Nat D. Williams, a former high school teacher, to serve as their chief adviser.5
Williams structured WDIA's initial programming schedule with a collection of short, music programs. These included
a daily, fifteen-minute segment featuring blues singer "Sonny Boy" Williamson.6 To satisfy the religious needs of
WDIA's audience, Williams scheduled gospel recordings played by hosts Ford Nelson and Theo "Bless My Bones"
Wade. Live religious programming included music performed by Negro-appeal Radio preacher "Gatemouth"
Moore and Sunday services from a local black church.7 In short order, Nat D. Williams developed an extraordinary
roster of talented, full-time disc jockeys. They included Riley "B.B." King, Rufus Thomas, A. C. Williams, Maurice
Hulbert and Martha Jean Steinberg.8 King made his debut in 1949 as an unpaid host of a ten-minute blues show. On
the air, he advertised Pepticon health tonic and plugged his live musical appearances at the Sixteenth Street Grill in
West Memphis. He was earning $25 a week for his solo act at the Grill and perhaps royalty payments from his local
hits that year on the Bulleit label.9 Station owner Ferguson used King to record a catchy jingle for Pepticon health
elixir: "Pepticon, Pepticon, sure is good. You can get it anywhere in your neighborhood." Before long, King's radio
duties were lengthened as his stature grew as both a blues performer and a station personality. He was assigned a
regular-length disc jockey shift for his "Sepia Swing Club," where he played records and performed live using his
nickname "Beale Street Blues Boy." King's nickname was shortened to "Blues Boy" and then shortened again to
become his famous stage initials, "B.B." King.10 After switching record companies to the Bihari Brothers' RPM
label, King performed songs that reached number one on Billboard's rhythm-and-blues charts for each of the next
four years_"Three O'Clock Blues" in 1951, "You Know I Love You" in 1952, "Please Love Me" in 1953 and "You
Upset Me Baby" in 1954. By then, King had left the disc jockey trade to pursue his musical career on a full-time
basis. In 1950, Rufus Thomas joined WDIA's announcing team. He was a veteran singer, comedian and dancer who
had begun performing years earlier with the Rabbit Foot Minstrels and the Harlem-in-Havana Troupe minstrel
company. In high school, he studied history under Nat D. Williams and had since replaced him as the host of
amateur nights at Memphis' Palace Theater. When WDIA expanded its daily schedule in 1954, Thomas began doing
a nightly blues and rhythm-and-blues program called "Hoot 'n' Holler." He always opened his shows with this
rhyme: I'm young and loose, and full of juice. I've got the goose, so what's the use? We're feeling gay, though we
ain't got a dollar. So let's all get together and hoot 'n' holler!11 Like King, Thomas recorded a song that climbed to
number one on the national rhythm-and-blues chart. But Thomas did not record "Do the Push and Pull, Part 1" until
1970. His biggest hit during the 1950s was "Bear Cat," a song that climbed to number three on Billboard's chart in
1953. Disc jockeys A. C. Williams and Maurice Hulbert had attracted the attention of Nat D. Williams when he was
teaching at a Memphis high school. A. C. "Moohah" Williams became the host of blues programs "Saturday Night
Fish Fry" and "Wheeling on Beale." He also worked as host of a gospel program, "Delta Melodies" and a
live-performance show, "Teen Town Revue." But it was the other former teacher, "Hot Rod" Hulbert, who was
destined to become one of the most popular and influential disc jockeys in the history of radio. The essence of
versatility, Hulbert began his day at WDIA as the dignified host of a morning gospel program, "Tan Town Jubilee."
At 10 o'clock, Hulbert adopted a romantic persona to emcee "Sweet Talkin' Time," a precursor of the 1980s "Quiet
Storm" format. Then came his transformation into the famous "Hot Rod," the electrifying host of WDIA's evening
"Sepia Swing Club."12 Martha Jean Steinberg was among the first female disc jockeys to earn a living in
rhythm-and-blues radio. She was brought to the station to follow in the footsteps of Willa Monroe, who did the
announcing for various feature programs that had been popular among WDIA's women listeners. But, as former
WDIA disc jockey Louis Cantor recalled, Steinberg was altogether different: Although the station 's original
intention in adding another woman announcer after Willa Monroe may have been to appeal to more females, both
the Nite Spot and Premium Stuff_with Martha Jean as the host_could hardly be described as programs pitched to
the women in the audience. No way! Her sultry voice and double entendres sent out unambiguous messages, leaving
little doubt about which gender she was attempting to attract. In case the males missed the more subtle aural signals
on the evening Night Spot, the very title of Martha Jean's Saturday noon show, Premium Stuff, drove the point
home.13 Steinberg, whose maiden name was Jones, had married a Jewish horn player and was already a part of the
music scene when she began working for WDIA in 1949. She was billed as "The Queen sponsored by the King of
Beers, Budweiser."14 Steinberg subsequently moved on to still greater fame as a disc jockey in Detroit. Nat D.
Williams played rhythm and blues at WDIA from its inception in 1948. As the station's chief announcer, he was the
host of a morning show called how called "Tan Town Coffee" and an afternoon program titled "Tan Town
Jamboree."15 In 1981, Williams discussed how he handled records containing double-entendre lyrics while adhering
to the station's policy of remaining within the boundaries of good taste. "We came up with the idea of giving them
some blues," he said. "And then we had to clean them up because some of them were . . . well_suggestive. And the
way I cleaned them up was, when they got to be suggestive, I'd just start talking."16 Though white-owned, WDIA
became highly respected for its public service to the city 's black community. In keeping with its commitment to
service, WDIA appointed A. C. Williams as its public relations director and acquired a reputation as "Mother
Station of the Negroes." In his biography of "B.B." King, Charles Sawyer describes some of WDIA's benevolent
activities: The station became more than an outlet for black music and a medium for advertisers to reach black
markets; it became a clearing house for black community affairs. Not infrequently, long-lost relatives of Memphis
families would appear at WDIA offices, asking the station to announce their arrival over the air so that their
families, who they could not find at old addresses, would call in and give their new location. Lost-children and
lost-pet announcements were a routine feature, given like time and temperature readings.17 One of WDIA's most
famous innovations was its annual "GoodwiIl Revue." Since their inception in 1949, these live shows featured
performances by famous rhythm-and-blues and gospel singers for the benefit of needy black children. The quality of
the acts that appeared at the reviews is illustrated by the stellar performers on hand for the 1956 show, which raised
funds for a children's home. The talent that year included Ray Charles, "B.B." King and the Moonglows.18 The
combination of goodwill, superb air personalities and a rhythm-and-blues format enabled WDIA to prosper
throughout the early 1950s. Its high point occurred in 1954, when the station's new transmitter began sending out
50,000 watts of rhythm and blues on a twenty-four hour daily schedule. By 1957, Ferguson and Pepper were able to
sell WDIA to the Sonderling station group for reportedly $1 million. At the time, the station's annual profits were
more than $100,000, which did not include the generous salaries extracted by its two co-owners.19 Another
significant "first" in the South was black-owned WERD in Atlanta. The 900-watt station was purchased in 1949 by
accountant Jesse B. Blayton and his son for $50,000. By 1951, WERD employed twenty-two workers including six
white people. Moreover, contrary to what might have been expected of a Negro-appeal station in a Southern city, its
audience was reportedly 20 percent white.20 Known as "The Good Word Station," WERD presented newscasts
based on material in Atlanta's black newspaper, The Daily World. Its public affairs programming also included daily
news commentary from William Boyd, a professor at Atlanta University.21 On the music side, WERD played all
types of music, from pop to classical, before ultimately settling on a rhythm-and-blues format. Former WERD disc
jockey Jack Gibson told writer Nelson George about the exaltation he felt as part of America 's first black-owned
station. "I'm proud to have been the jock who flipped the switch at 6 a.m. on a brisk October morning in 1949 and
greeted the day with a hearty 'Good morning, Atlanta! We are here!'" he said.22 Atlanta eventually had two more
stations featuring rhythm and blues, WGST and WAOK. Another early black-owned, Negro-appeal station was
WSOK in Nashville, Tennessee. Launched in 1951. it was owned by a corporation that included black shareholders,
thereby qualifying as a "black-owned" station.23 Nashville 's black disc jockeys had unforgettable names such as
Lee "Blabber Mouth" Dorms, "Long, Tall, Lean" Larry Dean Faulkner, Bill "Bouncin' with Billy" Powell and
Charles "Club Buggs" Scruggs.24 They competed for the area 's rhythm-and-blues audience with the white disc
jockeys at Nashville's 50,000-watt WLAC, the station that gave America the famous trio of Bill "Hoss" Allen, Gene
Nobles and "John R." Richbourg. Beginning in the late 1940s, WLAC's strong signal helped its disc jockeys to
cultivate a following among rhythm-and-blues fans throughout the country, who picked up the station during the
late-night hours. Radio historian Wes Smith wrote of WLAC's Richbourg, "In the 1950s at the height of his
popularity, which mirrored that of rhythm-and-blues music, as many as 15 million people listened to his show each
night."25 Another white Tennesseean with a large audience was Dewey Phillips at WHBG in Memphis. He is
enshrined in radio history for initiating Elvis Presley's rise to stardom by playing the singer's new release of "It
's
All Right" thirty times in one night during 1954.26 His signature line, which he repeated at the end of his
commercials, was "Tell 'em Phillips sencha."27 The Baltimore-Washington, D.C., area was another stronghold of
rhythm-and-blues radio. Its leading stations were WEBB and WSID in Baltimore, and WOOK and WUST in
Washington. WOOK, established in 1947, had the distinction of presenting Hal Jackson, radio's first full-time black
announcer. At first, his role was so unusual that a white listener, not realizing that Jackson was black, called the
station to complain that it was broadcasting too much "jig music."28 Founded by Richard Eaton, WOOK was an
innovator in using market-research data. For example, the station's advertisements called attention to census
reports demonstrating that Washington's nonwhite population had increase substantially during the 1950s. In fact,
the proportion of nonwhites had grown from 35 percent in 1950 to 53 percent in 1959, easily the highest nonwhite
ratio of any metropolitan area in the United States.29 In 1959, greater Washington's 635,500 black residents ranked
sixth nationally surpassed only by the black populations of New York City, Chicago, Philadelphia, Los Angeles and
Detroit.30 Building on these statistics, WOOK created a complete marketing presentation describing "the richest,
most responsive, buying Negro market in the country."31 In 1960, WOOK commissioned Pulse to perform a market
study of black residents in the nation's capital. The study found that 20 percent of Washington's black families had
checking accounts, 40 percent had charge accounts and more than 66 percent had been living in the area for at least
fifteen years.32 Three years later, WOOK informed all who would listen that while the nation's median income for
black families was $3,233, Washington's black families averaged $4,423 with a quarter of them employed with
steady jobs in the government. In addition, most of Washington 's black families were young and eager to buy
consumer goods.33 These numbers encouraged so many sponsors that in 1963 the company launched WOOK-TV,
the nation's first black-oriented television station.34 In all, the following southern radio stations presented a
substantial amount of Negro-appeal programming during the 1950s:35 Alabama: Birmingham_WBCO, WEDR,
WENN, WJLD Mobile_WGOK, WMOZ Selma_WHBB Tuscaloosa_WTUG Arkansas: Little Rock_KOKY
District of Columbia: Washington_WOOK, WUST Florida: Jacksonville_WOBS, WRHC Miami_WFEC Miami
Jesse B. Blayton, Sr. made radio history when he became the first African-American to own and operate a radio station
in America.
Blayton was born December 6, 1897 in Fallis, Oklahoma and studied at the Walton School of Chicago and the University
of Chicago. He moved to Atlanta in 1922 and became Georgia’s first African-American Certified Public Accountant six
years later.
By the 1940s, Jesse B. Blayton, Sr. had become a bank president and a professor at Atlanta University. In 1949, he purchased
1,000-watt station WERD/Atlanta and hired his son Jesse Blayton Jr. as station manager.
The younger Blayton hired radio veteran Jack Gibson to be an announcer and Ken Knight to be program director. WERD’s
“black appeal” format became an instant success with African-American listeners. By 1951, Gibson—using the
on-air name “Jockey Jack”—was Atlanta’s most popular disc jockey. During the 1960s, the station shared
building space with the Southern Christian Leadership Council and provided a platform for civil rights activists to make their
voices heard.
Blayton sold WERD in 1968 and remained active in community affairs until his death.
Jesse B. Blayton, Sr. died on September 7, 1977.
Jesse B. Blayton, Sr. was inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame in 1995.
The Bravest Woman I Have Ever Known"
By: Macy V. Butler
The Day We Hope For
When we can live in peace and harmony with one another, irrespective of race, color, creed....When that day arrives we
will be contented, Then, we all can boast of our DEMOCRACY, and NOT until then.
L.C. Bates (1941)
In celebration of Black History Month I want to share one of my personal stories about the bravest woman I have ever known.
In all of the years that I knew her, she was simply known to me as, Mrs. Bates.
I was born in Little Rock, Arkansas in March of 1953. My parents Lawrence Clayborn (L.C.)& Fannie Lou Butler were lifelong
residents of Little Rock and we lived in a duplex on 1411 N. St. Ringo St. Ringo St. was a regularly traveled street because
it was a straight walk or drive from 9th St, which was where the bulk of the black businesses in Little Rock were located
to the very southern end of town. A lot of Little Rock’s influential blacks lived close to Ringo St. Dunbar High School
later Dunbar Junior High School was on 18th & Ringo St. Dunbar Community Center and Gibbs Elementary School are on 16th
& Ringo.
Beginning on 14th Street was Mrs. Marshall’s Confectionary Store where I began working at age seven bagging sandwiches
and confectionary. The confectionary was cookies, candies, soda pop, pickles and ice cream. I made fifty cents and ate whatever
I wanted. Mrs. Marshall was a very nice lady and was the sister-in-law to Thurgood Marshall. He would visit whenever he was
in town.
Across the street was my church Mount Pleasant Missionary Baptist Church one of the largest and oldest black churches in
Little Rock pastored by Reverend Wesley E. Hayes. At the end of the block heading towards 15th St. was Taylor’s Cleaners
and behind it was Mr. Mansker’s Barbershop. From the time I was seven years old I lived right in the midst of everyday
opportunities to earn money through various means. Sandwiched from the east was Philander Smith College (two blocks from my
house) and to the west Arkansas Baptist College (four blocks from my house). These were two private old established black
colleges.
My grandmother, Jerushia Trowser was the best seamstress and tailor in the area, mending and making dresses and suits for
black and white people in Little Rock. She lived at 1413 Ringo St. just two doors from us. My grandmother was self-employed
and she did work for most of the local cleaners both black and white. I spent many days helping her as a youth pinning patterns,
picking up the scrap cuttings, which would later be made into a blanket or something, and as I grew older she allowed me to
cut out the patterns. My grandmother would specially make dress suits for some of the hard to fit men in the city and for
the women church dresses for special occasions. She also prepared lunches for the men at the barbershop, ACME drycleaners
employees and Dunbar Community Center staff. She earned a good living never needing to ask anyone for help. But I as grew
older I became too macho and masculine for sewing, "boys don’t sew." If only I knew the salary a good tailor makes today.
My best friend during the early and mid sixties was Michael Taylor who lived in the same duplex next door. Mike was about
two years older than I was and his grandparents owned Taylor’s Cleaners across the street, which was also a long established
neighborhood-gathering place. His mother, Ruth was divorced and worked as a registered nurse at the hospital. As teens Mike
and I operated a shoeshine parlor out of the cleaners that made us good steady money. We specialized a spit shine polish on
the State Troopers black boots and soon all the law enforcement guys were dropping their shoes off to be polished by us. We
charged $7.00 a pair, which was a lot of money in those days but the shine, would last a good week.
Ever the hustler (I did not know the word entrepreneur in those days) when I was about ten or eleven years old I began
cutting yards during the spring and summer months. My services were unique from the other kids who cut grass because I also
edged the sidewalks, swept the front and back porch and raked up my clippings for the same price. Sometimes my dad would help
me the first time to make the yard look perfect. Afterwards I just basically kept them maintained, which was a snap. A lot
of my extra money came from the tips for well-done job. After a while I was cutting most of the yards in my neighborhood while
at the same time operating a JET magazine distributorship.
During those days the JET magazine was a vital link for national news in the local black communities but only a few was
generally sold infrequently at the local barber and beauty shops. My distributorship was a door-to-door service weekly. Soon
it got to be that when I brought your JET magazine to your house to read while I cut your grass. It was a good business that
I did for several years. The Jet cost me $.20 and I charged $.27. A lot of times my customers would give me $.30 and tell
me to keep the change. Growing up I paid for most of my clothes, movies, the pool hall and the stuff I wanted.
One of my customers was Mr. Lucius Christopher Bates. I called him Mr. L.C. I guess he saw something in my hustling nature
and get up and go spirit. He hired me to cut their grass once a week and sometimes help out around the house doing minor cleaning
household chores for his wife, Mrs. Bates. Another thing I guess that drew me closer to him was that he and my father had
similar first names L.C. People called my father by two names L.C. or "Bootleg". People called Mr. Bates, L.C.
It was shortly after the assassination of JFK in 1963 when I first met Mrs. Bates. I was too young and naďve to know and
understand her accomplishments of what she did and especially had no clue of what happened in 1957-58. I only knew her as
a nice lady who was beautiful to look at and very intelligent. She always showed a motherly smile and took interest in what
I was doing as a youth. The chores that she had me do were not hard work. Twice a month I would clean the baseboards, windowsills;
clean the large glass windows in the family room and living room plus any other odd and ends that she wanted.
Their home was somewhat deceptive because when you entered from the front it appeared to be a single story house. But the
home was split-leveled with a lower living area in the back of the house. They had a large yard that was fenced in from all
sides with neighboring houses around them. There was no alley on that block which in those days was somewhat unusual. She
kept her home immaculate because people were always stopping by.
The lady that I only knew as Mrs. Bates is Daisy Bates who was one of the great civil rights leaders of the twentieth century.
In 1954 the United States Supreme Court (Brown v Board of Education) ruled that segregating students by race in public schools
must end. Many southern cities resisted the high court’s order to integrate schools. In 1957, as the rest of the country
watched with bated breath, Little Rock, Arkansas was polarized in a civil rights battle that would forever change American
life. At the very center of the Little Rock battle was Daisy Bates, a feisty and determined NAACP Coordinator who shepherd
nine children to becoming the first black students ever to integrate Central High School known as the "Little Rock Nine".
As a young child I was too young to remember and understand the historic events that were happening around me and even
as a child growing up around the Bate’s and their home life, I never knew the significance. You did not see a lot of
things around their home that gave many clues other than they ran a newspaper.
The lady I knew made delicious lemonade and served it in glasses. She was insistent that we learn to drink out of and use
glass utensils properly. There were no plastic cups or mayonnaise jars in that house. Whenever she assigned me chores she
would give clear instructions and then would allow you to work independently only checking when you said you completed the
task. They did not have any children but every child in the neighborhood knew them.
When I turned 14 I joined the NAACP Youth Council and our meetings were at Mrs. Bates’ home. By this time she was
traveling a lot around the country and we worked with Ms. Green who was the youth advisor. Mr. LC though was ailing was still
active in the community but did not travel as much as Mrs. Bates so I saw more of him as I grew older.
Born Daisy Lee Gatson in Huttig, a small sawmill town in far southern Arkansas nears the Louisiana border. It was in Huttig
that fifteen-year-old Daisy Lee Gatson met her future husband, Lucius Christopher Bates a tall thin insurance man who stopped
by to sell Daisy’s father a policy. L.C. Bates and Daisy’s father became friends. L.C. Bates born in Liberty,
Mississippi was the son of a Baptist minister and had many advantages compared to most young black people of his time. He
was at least 13 years older than Daisy. Their courtship is somewhat murky and there are several interpretations but in 1941
Daisy and L.C. moved to Little Rock and started the Arkansas State Press newspaper.
Some of the things Mrs. Bates did to change discrimination may seem unimportant at first glance. For example, Daisy frequently
and firmly insisted on being called "Mrs. Bates". One of the ways white people reminded blacks that they were considered inferior
was by calling them by their first names, as one would do a child. Sometimes white people wouldn’t even bother with
a black person’s name; they would just bark out, "Hey you, girl…" or "Come here, boy." Daisy refused to tolerate
this indignity. I guess that is why I didn’t know she was famous "Daisy Bates" until I was in high school and college.
She was always Mrs. Bates to me until she died in Little Rock on November 4, 1999.
On Tuesday, September 3, 1957 a small group of black students would enter the city’s previously all-white Central
High School. Having fought for school integration for many years, Arkansas NAACP state president Daisy was now becoming the
black student’s chief mentor and spokesperson. She knew that integrating central wouldn’t be easy. White people
insisted on maintaining segregated schools were forming committees, some of which vowed to block the entry of the black students
by any means possible.
Mrs. Bates was known through out Arkansas as the champion of school integration. Those who favored it viewed her as a heroine,
while opponents considered her a troublemaker. Quite a few black people were wary of her because she displayed an inner strength
that few had. Having been oppressed for so many years, they feared that Mrs. Bates would only bring down more trouble on their
heads.
Many assumed that Daisy handpicked the students who were selected to integrate Central High, when actually Little Rock
School Superintendent Virgil Blossom chose them. With recommendations from the city’s black junior and senior high school
over eighty names were submitted. Far more than he wanted to start with he told the principals to weed out applicants who
were not "mentally and emotionally equipped for this transition." By this method, the number of applicants was reduced from
eighty to thirty-two. Mr. Blossom held individual conferences with the thirty-two remaining pupils and their families. He
convinced fifteen young people that Central High wasn’t right for them for one reason or another. Seventeen remained.
As the tension mounted in the weeks before school opened, seven more students backed out. That left ten youngsters to begin
integrating Central High School, which had admitted only white students since opening in 1927.
Although she hadn’t chosen the ten students, Mrs. Bates began meeting with them at her home. They included students
entering the last three years of high school: sophomore, junior, and senior years. The ten young people were: Minnijean Brown,
Elizabeth Eckford, Ernest Green, Jane Hill, Thelma Mothershed, Melba Pattillo, Gloria Ray, Terrence Roberts, Jefferson Thomas
and Carlotta Walls.
It was not until the evening of August 22 did Daisy Bates fully realize how dangerous the segregationist could be. On that
Thursday night, Mrs. Bates watched the eleven-pm news on her living room TV. The news was disturbing. That evening a local
segregationist group called the Capital Citizens’ Council had hosted a dinner at Little Rock’s Hotel Marion. They
had brought in Georgia’s governor, Marvin Griffin, as the featured speaker. Some 350 people had paid $10 (the equivalent
of about $70 in today’s money) apiece to hear Governor Griffin denounce the Supreme Court’s school integration
order. Forcing previously all-white schools to admit black students as an attack on the South’s "way of life" and an
attempt "by force to destroy our government," Governor Griffin told the cheering audience. He urged white southerners to resist
integration and called the Capital Citizen’s Council a "courageous group of Arkansas patriots who are fighting a dedicated
battle to preserve the rights of states."
What a perversion of the word ‘patriot", thought Daisy Bates as she watched the broadcast. "Patriot" was usually
applied to people like George Washington, Nathan hale, and Benjamin Franklin. How could a group of white people who wanted
to exclude black teenagers from an all-white high school be called "patriots"? But the most harmful aspect of the Capital
Citizens’ Council gathering was the effect it could have on the Arkansas governor, Orval Faubus.
Up to that point it hadn’t been clear whether Governor Faubus would go along with the school integration plan or
oppose it. Griffin’s rousing reception made it more likely that Faubus would cave in to the segregationists and try
to keep the black students out of Central High. Faubus and Griffin certainly appeared to be in agreement. Griffin was staying
at Faubus’s guesthouse, and the two governors were having breakfast together the next morning.
Following the news broadcast, Mrs. Bates switched off the TV and took Skippy, the family cocker spaniel, out for his final
walk of the day. Upon returning home, Mrs. Bates sat down on the living room couch by the picture window and began leafing
through a newspaper. Daisy Bate was glancing through a newspaper when suddenly she heard what sounded like an explosion. The
forty-three-year-old civil rights leader and newspaper publisher instinctively hit the floor and covered her head. L.C. ran
into the room and found his wife lying on the floor.
"Are you hurt? Are you hurt?" L.C. asked.
Although covered with glass and bleeding slightly from numerous small cuts, daisy was otherwise unharmed. "I don’t
think so," she answered. Rising to her feet, she picked up the rock that had burst through the picture window. A note was
attached to the rock by a string. Unfolding the paper, Mrs. Bates read the note and then showed it to her husband.
THE NEXT WILL BE DYNAMITE
K.K.K.
"A message from the Arkansas Patriots," said Daisy Bates, sarcastically mocking the Georgia governor’s speech. She
and L.C. knew that "K.K.K." stood for Ku Klux Klan, a racist hate group known for violence against black people.
"Thank God their aim was poor." Said L.C. He called the police, but they had little interest in trying to find out who
had thrown the rock.
The couple patched up the window with masking tape, and then went to bed, but Daisy couldn’t sleep. She kept reliving
the moment the rock had hit the window, when she had thought the house was being bombed. All through the night questions raced
through her mind.
Might some racist actually dynamite their home? What would the bigots do to the black students when they tried to enter
Central High in less than two weeks? What would Governor Faubus do? Would the segregationists try to destroy the newspaper
that had provided a living for L.C. and Daisy Bates for the past sixteen years?
As State President of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People I was in the front-line trenches.
Was I ready for war? Was I ready to risk everything that L.C. and I had built? Who was I really and what did I stand for?
Toward dawn I knew I had found the answer. Daisy Bates finally drifted off to sleep, no longer plagued by doubt or uncertainty.
L.C. had a permit to carry a loaded revolver. He, Daisy, and several friends, including their next-door neighbor, a dentist
named Garman Freeman, began taking turns guarding the Bates home at night. By this time daisy Bates was receiving so many
threats by phone and letter that, for protection, she placed a loaded gun in her car’s glove compartment.
On Tuesday, August 27, Mrs. Clyde A. Thomason, Mothers’ League recording secretary, filed suit seeking a temporary
injunction-a court order preventing the integration of Central High.
On Tuesday, August 29, Pulaski County Judge, Murray O. Reed heard Mrs. Thomason’s suit. She testified that in "strict
confidence" that there would be violence at the school between white and colored boys if the school opened as integrated.
Many witnesses who came forward to refute her claim was Little Rock Chief of Police Marvin Potts, School Superintendent Virgil
Blossom and Dr. William Cooper Jr., a surgeon who was president of the Little Rock School Board.
But a surprise witness supported Mrs. Thomason’s claims. Arkansas governor Orval Faubus walked into the courtroom
and testified he personally knew of cases in which guns had been seized from black and white students. Largely because of
the governor’s testimony, Judge reed ruled in Mrs. Thomason’s favor granting the injunction against starting integration.
The racist celebrated Judge Reed’s decision. On the night of August 29, people drove past the Bates home; honking
their horns and shouting Daisy, Daisy did you hear the news? The coons won’t be going to Central!"
But the next day, Friday, August 30, NAACP attorneys Wiley Branton and Thurgood Marshall went before the U.S. District
Court asking to have Judge Reed’s order overruled Judge Ronald Davies ruled that integration must proceed as planned.
Furthermore, he issued an order that no one interfere with the black students entering the school. By August 30 Arkansas officials
began trying to intimidate Mrs. Bates. Attorney General Bruce Bennett sent her a letter demanding that she answer fourteen
questions relating to the Arkansas NAACP’s operations, memberships and finances. Mrs. Bates refused to answer his questions
and two years later the United States Supreme Court ruled that such demands "violate freedom of speech and assembly guaranteed
by the First Amendment."
On Labor Day, September 2, 1957 that night at nine o’ clock, 300 Arkansas National Guardsmen began to surround Central
High. Governor Faubus had called these emergency troops to active duty-why was not known. At ten-fifteen pm the governor spoke
on local TV and radio. He was vague about his reasons for calling out the Arkansas National Guard while claiming that "they
will not act as segregationist or integrationist, but as soldiers" there to keep the peace. Then he revealed which side he
had taken. "It is my opinion that it will not be possible to restore or maintain order and protect the lives and property
of the citizens if forcible integration is carried out tomorrow. The school, for the time being, must be operated on the same
basis as they have in the past." In other words, for an unspecified period the ten black students must stay out of Central
High.
Classes at Central began at eight-forty-five AM on Tuesday, September 3rd. The National Guardsmen, as well as a crowd of
400 white adults, watched as nearly 2,000 students, none of them black entered the school. The only black person at the scene
was L.C. Bates, who came as a reporter. At one point a group of out-of-town racist rushed toward L.C., probably to try to
beat him up. Suddenly, he reached into his pocket. Local whites warned the out-of-towners that Bates had a permit to carry
a loaded gun, and the thugs backed off. When asked by visiting white newsmen how he had summoned the nerve to face the mob,
L.C. quipped: "I just came by to add some color to the occasion."
Superintendent Blossom and the school board were uncertain about what they should do so they asked Federal Judge Ronald
Davies for instructions. The judge announced his decision that evening. The ruling was that the students would enter Central
High the next day, September 4.
L.C. hadn’t gone to Central High on September 3 just to report on the start of school for the State Press. He wanted
to see the size and the mood of the crowd. When he told her about the thugs who had been about to rush him, her worries grew.
People went in and out of the Bates house that night asking what she thought would happen and what she planned to do. One
of them was the Reverend J.C. Crenshaw, president of the Little Rock NAACP, associate pastor of Mount Pleasant Missionary
Baptist Church and one of the men who baptized me at age eight.
"Maybe," she said, "we could round up a few ministers to go with the children tomorrow. Maybe then the mob won’t
attack them." Superintendent Blossom asked both the white and black ministers to stay away from the school because their presence
might inflame the bigots. She phoned the Little Rock Police to request that a squad car be stationed at 12th and Park Street
before eight-thirty the next morning to protect the black students. Yes, they promised, but they could not escort the children
all the way to Central.
It took her until three a.m. to complete the phones call to the students, however she was not able to reach Elizabeth Eckford
because her family did not have a telephone. Mrs. Bates considered going to the railroad station, where she thought Elizabeth’s
father worked nights, but she was so tired that she decided to sleep a few hours and contact Elizabeth in the morning.
When she awoke, Mrs. Bates called the NAACP’s New York Headquarters for a final briefing and moral support. Daisy
and L.C. got into their car and began driving towards Twelfth and Park. On the way they switched on the radio and heard a
news bulletin: "A negro girl is being mobbed at central High…" "Oh, my God!" Daisy Bates cried in horror. She had forgotten
to notify Elizabeth that they were meeting and driving to school together.
Elizabeth, unaware of the plan, had taken a bus to school. Wearing a black and white dress she had made for her first day
of classes, carrying a green notebook, Elizabeth stepped off of the bus at about eight a.m. and began walking the final block
to Central High. Outside the school she saw a line of armed Guardsmen and a crowd of some 400 white people. At frit Elizabeth
was glad to see the National Guardsmen and assumed they were there to protect her. But whenever she tried to get past them
to enter the school, the guards blocked her path, even raising their bayonets to keep her away. At the same time the Guardsmen
allowed the white students through. Noticing that the lone black student was trying to get into the school, the crowd closed
in on her, yelling, "Lynch her!" and "Go home, black bitch!" Elizabeth recall, "I tried to see a friendly face somewhere in
the mob-somebody who maybe would help. I looked into the face of an old woman, but when I looked at her again, she spat on
me."
Not knowing what to do Elizabeth returned to the bus stop all while the crowd shouted threats, followed her, as did several
newsmen and photographers. For what probably seemed like an eternity she sat there until L.C. Bates and a white woman named
Grace Lorch walked up to comfort and protect her. The mob figured it was natural for Mr. Bates to aid one of his people, for
they left him alone, but they hurled insults at Mrs. Lorch and also present Dr. Benjamin Fine, New York Times education editor,
"Nigger lover!" and "Dirty Jew." After a few minutes a bus came and Elizabeth boarded it, leaving the ugly mob behind.
The nine of students stepped out of the cars, with two minister leading the way and two bringing up the rear, the students
began walking to Central High in a line. The racist hated Mrs. Bates so intensely that her presence at the school might spark
a riot, so she and others remained in the cars.
Led by Lieutenant Colonel Marion Johnson the students were halted and prevented from entering the school, on orders of
the governor Faubus. Soon the whole nation knew what had happened, for TV crews, reporters, and photographers had recorded
the day’s events. In fact, over the next few months the Little Rock school crisis became one of the first ongoing news
stories covered by on-site television crews.
Following the tense events of September 4, 1957, Jane Hill decided to attend all-black Horace Mann High School. The remaining
Black students who wanted to enter Central High were given a nickname by which they became known to the world; "the Little
Rock Nine." During that time the president of the United States; Dwight D. Eisenhower was furious at Governor Faubus for defying
the U.S. Supreme Court’s order to integrate the schools. After threatening to arrest the governor, Faubus recalled the
National Guard from Central. Months later Eisenhower called in the 101st Airborne Division of the U.S. Army to escort the
students to class during the 1957 crisis and Central High School was finally integrated.
Those known as the "Little Rock Nine" were of course older but I grew up, played with and dated some of their younger brothers
and sisters. Carlotta Walls lived two houses from us.
I have related just a small portion of the events and what happened at Central High School during 1957-58. The complete
story may be read in the Power of One, Daisy Bates and the Little Rock Nine and Daisy Bates, Civil Right Crusader.
Mrs. Bates the woman I knew as a young impressionable boy growing up in Little Rock, was a woman of immense courage, faith,
compassion and love all wrapped into a feisty, strong-willed and opinionated woman who was just one of the many excellent
examples of humanity I grew to know and love. The last time I talked to Mrs. Bates was in 1996 at the age of 82 and wheel
chair bound. She introduced me to another great lady who also was in a wheelchair. Her name was Rosa Parks.
Daisy Bates the bravest woman I have ever known.
Parents encourage your children to read more books about America’s heroes and heroines. History is only important
until you have knowledge of it.
LA’s Soul Music Radio Pioneer
by Greg Hardison
REST IN PEACE: We have lost Hunter Hancock
to the great R'n'B station
in the sky.Hunter was THE pioneer in the airing of so-caled "Race
Music" in Los Angeles, beginning around
1943 on the old KFVD/1020.It all started
with his one-hour-weekly Jazz show, which
was crafted for African-American
audiences.Several years later, a fortuitous meeting with a Record
rep talked Hunter into adding one "race"
record per show.Theresponse was
huge, and shortly thereafter, Hunter Hancock's
show consisted of
nothing but "race" records, and had expanded
to 3 1/2 hours daily.
Later in the '50s, Hunter added two nightly
hours on competitor KGFJ/1230 (which later
spent thirty years as one of the Nation's
premiere Rhythm 'n' Blues
stations.Their historic record collection migrated over to the old KACE/103.9
in 1994, as KGFJ became "motivational talk"
outlet KYPA, and
the Ace took over the L.A.
R'n'B crown.The format is no longer on the air in Los
Angeles, but the albums and CDs are at last
word safe with a particular
expert-afficianado of the genre, who worked
at both stations in their
latter years.)By 1955, Hunter helmed a weekly half-hour show on KNXT (now
spotlighting African-American artists.The whole affair was a cultural awakening
for Hunter Hancock, born a white man in rural
Texas, in 1916.He was
profiled by <laradio.com>'s Don Barrett
in 1999:"Before Hunter
got to Los Angeles
he worked on the radio in San
Antonio and Laredo.'Where I came from
there was no respect for black people. In
Los Angeles, my entire career I
played black music and worked with black
people. They are wonderful people.
Thank God I changed,' Hunter said. You can
imagine the shock of the black
people when he first appeared at concerts
at Wrigley Field, sock hops, and
the Lincoln Theatre and they saw for the
first time that the man leadingthe r&b
music radio charge was white. The white people
were shocked to learn
that he was white. 'The black people accepted
me because I was playing their
music when no one else was,' Hunter emphasized.Some cultural observers
credit the widespread distribution and subsequent
commercial appeal of R'n'B
(led particularly by Berry
Gordy's Motown, from the early 1960's on) with
helping break down the racial barriers that
had been in place in America
since its inception; I for one witnessed
that sort of thing first-hand, growing
up in the Urban South.
Meet General Larry Ellis
The highest ranking african american officer in the U.S.Army
General Larry R. Ellis assumed command of
U.S. Army Forces Command on November 19, 2001, following his assignment as the Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations and Plans,
Department of the Army.
With
more than 35 years of Army service, General Ellis has served in the United States, Vietnam, Germany, the Republic of Korea,
and Bosnia and Herzegovina. His command assignments include 1st Armored Division, Germany; Multinational Division
(North), Bosnia and Herzegovina; Assistant Division Commander, 2d Infantry Division, Korea; Brigade Commander, 3d Infantry
Division, Germany; Battalion Commander, 5th Infantry Division, Fort Polk, La.; Company Commander, 101st Airborne Division,
Vietnam; and 82d Airborne Division, Fort Bragg, N.C.
His staff assignments
included Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations and Plans; Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel, Headquarters, Department
of the Army; Assistant Chief of Staff, C3/J3/G3, United Nations Command/Combined Forces Command/United States Forces Korea/Eighth
United States Army, Korea; Deputy Director for Strategic Planning and Policy, Headquarters, U.S. Pacific Command, Hawaii;
Deputy Director, Military Personnel Management, Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel, Headquarters, Department
of the Army; Force Structure Analyst and Chief, Manpower and Force Structure Division, Program Analysis and Evaluation Directorate,
Office of Chief of Staff, Headquarters, Department of the Army; Staff Officer, Headquarters, U. S.
Army Europe, Germany; Staff and Faculty, U. S. Military Academy, West Point; Battalion Staff Officer, 101st Airborne Division,
Vietnam; and Battalion Operations Officer, 82d Airborne Division, Fort Bragg, N.C.
General Ellis awards include the Defense Distinguished
Service Medal, the Army Distinguished Service Medal, the Defense Superior Service Medal, the Legion of Merit with two Oak
Leaf Clusters, the Bronze Star Medal, the Meritorious Service Medal with two Oak Leaf Clusters, the Air Medal, the Army Commendation
Medal with Oak Leaf Cluster, the National Defense Service Medal with three stars, the Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal, the
Vietnam Service Medal with three stars, the Armed Forces Service Medal, the Vietnam Cross of Gallantry/Palm, the Korean Cheonsu
Medal, the German Armed Forces Honor Cross (Gold), the NATO Medal, the Combat Infantryman Badge, the Senior Parachutist Badge,
the Office of Secretary of Defense Staff Identification Badge, the Joint Chiefs of Staff Identification Badge, and the Army
General Staff Identification Badge.
Loud and proud
When Los Angeles erupted in the bloodiest racial uprising of the 1960s,
the black citizens of Watts
sent a message to the world, demanding that
their struggle be noticed. And it was; for the
social, intellectual and
emotional rebellion that followed was played
out to a soul soundtrack
that culminated, 30 years ago, in the biggest
music event of the Black
Power era: Wattstax
James Maycock
Thursday
July 18 2002
The Guardian
On August
20 1972, the expectant audience at the LA Coliseum in South
Central Los Angeles basked
in hot Californian sun. Just before 3pm, soul
singer Kim Weston approached the centre stage
mic and belted out the US
national anthem. As the Star-Spangled Banner
resonated around the huge
auditorium, the 100,000-plus black crowd, well,
they just chilled: the
stadium hummed with light conversation, some
ate their picnics, others
twitched their noses with indifference. No one
stood. Jesse Jackson,
dressed in what most self-respecting civil rights
officials wore in 1972
- multicoloured dashiki, bushy sideburns and
medallion - addressed the
crowd. Declaring "We've gone from 'burn, baby,
burn' to 'learn, baby,
learn'", he urged everyone to repeat, "I Am Somebody!"
Then Weston was
invited back to sing the black national anthem,
Lift Every Voice And
Sing. As the first notes left her lips, the crowd
bolted to its feet and
fists punched the air. And so began Wattstax,
the biggest, baddest
musical event of the Black Power era, featuring
most acts from the
Memphis-based Stax label.
Rewind to another sizzling weekend in LA, August
7 and 8 1965. This time
a less grandiose Stax Revue - including Wilson
Pickett, the Astors and
Booker T And The MGs - is performing at the 700-capacity
5/4 Ballroom in
Watts. The budding Memphis
record label is in town to raise its profile
on the west coast and the shows are promoted
by Magnificent Montague
from local radio station KGFJ. Montague, a friend
of Malcolm X -
assassinated six months earlier - is the originator
of the expression
"Burn, baby, burn", which he yells wildly at
the climax of a record.
It's become the slick phrase among black Los
Angelenos, and Montague, as
MC, screams it between acts, inducing a female
audience member to howl
deliriously, "Jump in that water and let it burn!"
The trip is deemed a modest triumph. Some Stax
artists return to Memphis
on Monday, but the Astors leave on Wednesday,
August 11. As their plane
flies above LA, they watch incredulously as thick
coils of black smoke
billow out of Watts. Booker
T, Steve Cropper and Al Jackson have
remained in town to record a session; that same
day, Booker T slips out
of the studio for some air and sees National
Guardsmen sprinting down
the street. Both Booker T and the Astors are
witnessing the first
flashes of the Watts rebellion,
the bloodiest racial uprising of the
1960s.
A little earlier, two black men, brothers Marquette
and Ronald Frye, are
driving a 1950 Buick in South
Central LA. They are stopped by the
California
Highway Patrol at 116th Street and Avalon Boulevard,
and
arguments ensue. The Fryes' mother arrives and
is handcuffed. Marquette
is punched in the head and a car door swung into
his legs, before he is
pushed into a police car and punched again. His
mother is slapped in the
face and hit on the knee with a blackjack. Police
motorcyclists mount
the sidewalk, aggressively breaking up the angry
crowd that has
gathered. The LA Times later reports, "Rocks
began flying, then wine and
whisky bottles, concrete, pieces of wood. The
targets were anything
strange to the neighbourhood." The rage and violence
swell rapidly.
Stationary cars are burnt, moving vehicles attacked.
As night falls,
flickering fires light up Watts.
The next day, media coverage of the uprising
tightens the pressure. It
is also the day of the first death: Leon Posey
is shot by the LAPD
outside a barbers shop at 89th and Broadway.
On the third day, Friday,
August 13, LAPD helicopters are fired at and
the authorities admit that
south LA is out of their control. The police
visit Magnificent Montague
after nervous citizens complain about his incendiary
on-air use of
"Burn, baby, burn". Unwillingly, he switches
it to "Have mercy, baby!"
Watts burnt for another
three days until 16,000 National Guardsmen,
police and Highway Patrolmen quelled its 35,000
rebellious citizens -
$200m worth of damage was caused, and of the
34 dead, most were black
Americans. Charles Fizer, from the R&B group
the Olympics, was among
them. More than 1,000 more were injured, including
the comedian and
activist Dick Gregory, who was shot in the leg;
4,000 people were
arrested. President Johnson condemned the uprising,
saying, "Our
conscience cries out against the hatred we heard
last week. It bore no
relationship to the orderly struggle for civil
rights that has ennobled
the last decade." But Senator Robert Kennedy
commented, "There is no
point in telling Negroes to observe the law.
It has almost always been
used against them."
Al Bell, former head of Stax, recalls watching
the spectacle on
television and thinking, "Well, we just have
some more African-Americans
that are tired of oppression." There was certainly
an appalling record
of police brutality in Watts
- the traditional training ground for
rookie cops - but poverty and unemployment had
also pushed it over the
edge. In the 1950s, there had been a huge black
migration west from
Texas
and the south, inspired by a sense that Los Angeles was the
promised land. But the reality was very different.
The booming film
industry was mostly off-limits to blacks, and
poor public transport and
segregated housing impeded them from living near
or commuting to major
industrial sites in LA. Slowly, Watts
deteriorated. In the build-up to
August 1965, the NAACP (National Association
for the Advancement of
Colored People) was increasingly perceived by
the LA black masses as a
middle-class institution that neglected their
interests. Writing in the
New York Times Magazine just after the Watts
uprising, social scientist
Kenneth B Clark described the rebellion as an
attempt "by prisoners in
the ghetto to destroy their own prison".
The Watts insurrection
symbolised a dramatic sea change in the civil
rights movement. It was the harbinger of the
Black Power era, an age of
black consciousness and militancy. Civil rights
acts passed in 1964 and
1965 had heightened expectations among African-Americans,
but the mood
had turned to one of frustration as they observed
only microscopic
shifts in their daily lives. The battle cry of
"Burn, baby, burn" echoed
through the long, hot, violent summers of the
second half of the 1960s.
The civil rights movement became more diverse
as black militant groups
such as the Black Panthers emerged and the Student
Nonviolent
Coordinating Committee, or SNCC ("Snick"), fronted
by Stokely
Carmichael, kicked out
its white members. Faith in passive resistance
diminished and was eclipsed, in part, by a more
aggressive black
nationalism. Yet, despite the media's focus on
its revolutionary
rhetoric and "Get Whitey" braggadocio, Black
Power's main goals were
attaining political, economic and psychological
strength.
A friend of Martin Luther King, Stax Records
boss Al Bell recalls that,
after King's assassination in 1968, "Blacks all
of a sudden wondered if
it was a hopeless situation because here was
the guy who talked about
turning the other cheek and all of a sudden he
was killed." Bell
believes that "Black Power was no more than black
people saying, 'We Are
Somebody!' " but he also identifies it as "an
intellectual, social and
emotional rebellion taking place among a people,
and it manifested
itself in the music".
Before the music, however, came the Watts Summer
Festival: without that,
there would have been no Wattstax, says Tommy
Jacquette, a Watts
resident who played "an active part" in the 1965
rebellion. The first
festival, in 1966, was, he says, "a cultural
celebration" that "came
straight out of the ashes of the 1965 revolt"
and was a "memorial for
the 34 people who died".
The Watts Writers Workshop was also created in
the wake of the uprising.
Funded in part by Hollywood
scriptwriter Budd Schulberg (On The
Waterfront), this was where the Watts
poet and aspiring scriptwriter
Richard Dedeaux met Amde Hamilton and Otis O'Solomon,
who formed the
Watts Prophets. Performing
regularly at the Summer Festival, they
released their first album, Rappin' Black In
A White World, in 1971. It
included the track Amerikkka, in which the Prophets
screamed, "Ask not
what you can do for your country, 'cause what
in the fuck has it done
for you?" - lyrics, says Dedeaux, "that automatically
got us on the
Un-American Activities list".
Stax, meanwhile, had catapulted from "the little
label that could" into
a mighty corporate institution to rival Motown.
It was also branching
out into film. In 1972, the concert promoter
Forest Hamilton was in LA,
tentatively establishing a movie arm, Stax West,
when he was introduced
to Dedeaux. Hamilton
invited Dedeaux to Memphis to work on a film script
and it was through this collaboration that the
idea for a benefit
concert was born. The idea generated excitement
at Stax, but as more
musicians offered to perform for free, the label
struggled to find a
suitable venue. A slightly nervous LAPD suggested
the LA Coliseum - home
to the LA Rams - because "they didn't want to
see that many black people
in Watts 'uncorralled'!"
says Jacquette, the man responsible for turning
the Watts Summer Festival into an annual event.
But "It was a win/win
for all of us. Their motives were different,
but it was still a
win/win."
Finally, a date was set: Sunday, August 20 1972, the last day of the
Watts Summer Festival.
Mayor Yorty declared it "Wattstax Day" and for
one extraordinary Sunday, the LA Coliseum metamorphosed
into a riot of
funky, soulful music, black pride, zebra-striped
flop hats, gymnastic
dancing, electric-yellow hotpants, Afros of inordinate
volume and flares
of unnatural width. Dedeaux remembers: "It was
electrical, man. The
radio stations started playing it up, giving
away tickets. Everybody
just really got into it. It was a magic thing."
At $1 a pop, tickets were affordable to everyone.
Stax underwrote most
of the expenses and Schlitz beer acted as sponsors.
Magnificent
Montague's former radio station broadcast the
event live and Al Bell
hired an LA production company to film it.
Weston's renditions of both national anthems
and Jackson's speech, in
which he spoke of "liberation through music",
kicked off six hours of
fat, full-bodied Stax sounds. Famous black entertainers,
including Shaft
star Richard Roundtree, presented each act, and
Melvin Van Peebles,
director of the film Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss
Song, introduced the
first, the Staple Singers.
With Pops Staples dressed in a dazzling white
safari suit and Mavis
Staples sporting large hoop earrings, the group
launched into Heavy
Makes You Happy, followed by black pride anthems
Respect Yourself and I
Like The Things About Me. Of the latter, Mavis
says, "We felt it was a
good song to sing at that event. With Pops saying,
'There was a time I
wished my hair was fine.' Well, no. Not any more.
We want our hair the
way we came here with it - nappy. That's what
was happening. Black
people were showing they were proud to be black.
We were singing songs
to lift the people." In the middle of this bluesy
number, with his
guitar set in tremolo, Pops rapped a history
lesson to the crowd,
declaring, "No nationality could go through what
we been through and
survive like the black people." He quoted James
Brown - "Say it loud,
I'm black and I'm proud" - and praised "our own
Black Moses, Isaac
Hayes".
Just before the Bar-Kays launched into Son Of
Shaft, their saxophonist,
balancing a huge white Afro wig on his head,
boomed, "Freedom is a road
seldom travelled by the multitude." Both this
and Jackson's holler, "I
don't know what the world is coming to!" were
sampled years later by
Public Enemy on their opus of rage, It Takes
A Nation Of Millions To
Hold Us Back. Despite the uncompromising tone
of some performances, the
atmosphere was one of celebration. For one hot
day, the LA Coliseum
flipped into an outrageous fashion parade as
the crowd posed, strolled,
strutted and checked each other out; Wattstax
buzzed with the bonhomie
of Woodstock
and Monterey.
Amazingly, says Al Bell, "We were able to cut
a deal with the city. We
had only black police officers, and not one of
them had a gun." There
were "no riots, no fights", according to Bell,
in spite of a
112,000-strong audience and a significant gang
presence - at one point
in the film, Tookie, head of the Watts Crips,
is seen signalling to gang
members in the crowd.
Most of the Stax roster performed at Wattstax,
including Eddie Floyd and
Albert King, Hayes and Rufus Thomas. As the sun
dipped below the
Pacific, "the world's oldest teenager" took to
the stage in hot-pink
cape and shorts, and white go-go boots, imploring,
"Ain't I clean?"
before causing uproar with Do The Funky Chicken.
Flapping his arms and
clucking, Thomas invited the crowd to invade
the sacred turf of the
pitch. Within seconds, 5,000 people were doing
the funky chicken right
in front of the stage.
But if Thomas was the court clown, Isaac "Big
Ike" Hayes was the king of
Wattstax. The roar of police motorbikes - lights
flashing - signalled
that he was in the building. The atmosphere was
eye-popping. Sporting a
huge brown flop hat and a psychedelic-print cape,
Hayes mounted the
stage. Jesse Jackson, standing next to him, yelled,
"Do we want to see
Isaac Hayes? Brothers and sisters, we are about
to bring forth a bad,
bad ... " On the point of blurting out the oedipal
expletive, Jackson
gushed, "I'm a preacher, I can't say it!" With
the theme from Shaft
throbbing in the background, Hayes ripped off
his cape, revealing a
thick gold chain vest. "Shaft" and "Black Moses"
flashed wildly on the
huge screen. The crowd screamed and Jackson
looked thrilled.
Hayes performed for an hour. His set included
Shaft and Soulsville, and
an extraordinary 18-minute version of Bill Withers'
Ain't No Sunshine,
before it came down to rest with a mellow I Stand
Accused. Wattstax drew
to a close with Kim Weston singing If I Had A
Hammer with the audience.
Today, Jacquette remembers that there wasn't
"one single problem" at
Wattstax. He was delighted that the event contradicted
the racist
stereotype that a large number of black people
"can't get together
without having a revolt". "It was," he says,
"a day of unity."
It was not the first time the community had displayed
such togetherness.
The sleeve notes to the two double live Wattstax
albums stressed an
explicit connection between the riots and Wattstax,
saluting the
citizens of Watts in 1965,
"who stood together and demanded to be
heard". In a documentary film about Wattstax,
director Mel Stuart
(responsible for Willy Wonka And The Chocolate
Factory a year earlier)
created an unflinching portrait of the Watts
community, who rapped about
racism, civil rights, relationships, the blues,
Vietnam and social
changes since 1965. This was intercut with news
archive of the '65
uprising and images of Black Power politicians.
A kind of Greek chorus
was presented by a fledgling Richard Pryor, whose
mischievous monologues
glue the film together: "They accidentally shoot
more niggers out here
than any place else in the world. Every time
I pick up the paper -
'Nigger accidentally shot in the ass'." The film
was released by
Columbia Pictures and kicked off the Cannes Film
Festival in 1973. In
Lagos,
Wattstax was a hot draw.
But the event was not without its critics. Stax
artist Donald "Duck"
Dunn grumbled, "Were they doing it for the people
in LA or to promote Al
Bell
in LA?" In his defence, Bell insists, "That's the American way!"
The original intent was to raise money for the
Watts Summer Festival,
but as a label boss, he says, "I had a responsibility
to my artists."
Under Bell,
Stax was now black-owned and, at Wattstax, its black
musicians were performing to a black crowd whose
ticket fee was helping
black charities, among them the MartinLutherKingHospital,
the Sickle
Cell Anemia Foundation, Jesse Jackson's Operation
Push (People United to
Save Humanity) and the Watts Summer Festival
itself. But while Soul
magazine described Wattstax as "completely black-controlled",
"whitey's"
fingerprints were detected on some parts of the
event. For a start, the
documentary film director, Mel Stuart, was white,
and Schlitz and
Columbia,
who sponsored the concert and film respectively, were both
white-owned. But to Al Bell, "What was important
was to get the very
best, it wasn't about colour. There was enough
colour in putting the
event on." Today, he is adamant that Wattstax
reflected the Black Power
ideologies: "Here was a little black company
that was able to go to LA,
where you had all the giant corporations, and
get the musicians out
there, hire Mel Stuart, take a stadium and finance
the production, then
get Columbia
to distribute it, and not ask any of them for any money.
Now, from an economic standpoint, that was the
ultimate in Black Power!"
After the heady days of Wattstax, life and death
continued in the City
of Angels. Ten years ago, LA burnt again after
members of the LAPD were
acquitted of brutality towards Rodney King. Tommy
Jacquette has
faithfully produced a Watts Summer Festival each
year, still
commemorating "the 34 people who died in 1965
and the cultural
contribution of a people".
"The people of Watts,"
he says, "sent a message to the people of the
world: 'Here we are. Hear what it's about. Hear
what our struggle is
about!'"
The Watts Summer Festival runs August 9-11. A
Wattstax CD box set is
released by Ace Records in September. To hear
a live recording of I Like
The Things About Me by The Staple Singers, go
to
www.guardian.co.uk/arts, or call 09068 626828
and use code 1369. Calls
cost 60p per minute.
Copyright Guardian Newspapers Limited
One points needs to be corrected. It wasn't Schlitz
who helped in sponsoring, it was a black
man, former football star Willie Davis who happened
to own a Schlitz
distributorship. He paid for a small portion
of the stadium rental cost for
sinage. We did not need it, but, if my memory
serves me correctly, Forrest
thought it would be a great idea, firstly, to
help Willie Davis as a black
entrepreneur and secondly to have a Los
Angeles black owned business
involvement . Willie Davis deserves this recognition
and not Schlitz. Stax
paid for everything else!!!!!!!!!!
Al Bell
.
Loud and proud When Los Angeles
erupted in the bloodiest racial uprising of the 1960s, the black citizens of Watts sent a message
to the world, demanding that their struggle be noticed. And it was; for the social, intellectual and emotional rebellion
that followed was played out to a soul soundtrack that culminated, 30 years ago, in the biggest music event of the Black Power
era: Wattstax James Maycock Thursday July 18 2002 The Guardian On August 20 1972, the expectant audience at the
LA Coliseum in South Central Los Angeles basked in hot Californian sun. Just before 3pm,
soul singer Kim Weston approached the centre stage mic and belted out the US national
anthem. As the Star-Spangled Banner resonated around the huge auditorium, the 100,000-plus black crowd, well, they just
chilled: the stadium hummed with light conversation, some ate their picnics, others twitched their noses with indifference.
No one stood. Jesse Jackson, dressed in what most self-respecting civil rights officials wore in 1972 - multicoloured
dashiki, bushy sideburns and medallion - addressed the crowd. Declaring "We've gone from 'burn, baby, burn' to 'learn,
baby, learn'", he urged everyone to repeat, "I Am Somebody!" Then Weston was invited back to sing the black national
anthem, Lift Every Voice And Sing. As the first notes left her lips, the crowd bolted to its feet and fists punched
the air. And so began Wattstax, the biggest, baddest musical event of the Black Power era, featuring most acts from the Memphis-based
Stax label.
Rewind to another sizzling weekend in LA, August 7 and 8 1965. This time a less grandiose Stax Revue
- including Wilson Pickett, the Astors and Booker T And The MGs - is performing at the 700-capacity 5/4 Ballroom in Watts.
The budding Memphis record label is in town to raise its profile on the west
coast and the shows are promoted by Magnificent Montague from local radio station KGFJ. Montague, a friend of Malcolm X
- assassinated six months earlier - is the originator of the expression "Burn, baby, burn", which he yells wildly at
the climax of a record. It's become the slick phrase among black Los Angelenos, and Montague, as MC, screams it between
acts, inducing a female audience member to howl deliriously, "Jump in that water and let it burn!"
The trip is
deemed a modest triumph. Some Stax artists return to Memphis on Monday, but
the Astors leave on Wednesday, August 11. As their plane flies above LA, they watch incredulously as thick coils of black
smoke billow out of Watts. Booker T, Steve Cropper and Al Jackson have remained in town to record
a session; that same day, Booker T slips out of the studio for some air and sees National Guardsmen sprinting down the
street. Both Booker T and the Astors are witnessing the first flashes of the Watts rebellion, the
bloodiest racial uprising of the 1960s.
A little earlier, two black men, brothers Marquette and Ronald Frye, are driving
a 1950 Buick in South Central LA. They are stopped by the California
Highway Patrol at 116th Street and Avalon
Boulevard, and arguments ensue. The Fryes' mother arrives and is handcuffed. Marquette is
punched in the head and a car door swung into his legs, before he is pushed into a police car and punched again. His mother
is slapped in the face and hit on the knee with a blackjack. Police motorcyclists mount the sidewalk, aggressively breaking
up the angry crowd that has gathered. The LA Times later reports, "Rocks began flying, then wine and whisky bottles,
concrete, pieces of wood. The targets were anything strange to the neighbourhood." The rage and violence swell rapidly. Stationary
cars are burnt, moving vehicles attacked. As night falls, flickering fires light up Watts.
The
next day, media coverage of the uprising tightens the pressure. It is also the day of the first death: Leon Posey is shot
by the LAPD outside a barbers shop at 89th and Broadway. On the third day, Friday, August 13, LAPD helicopters are fired
at and the authorities admit that south LA is out of their control. The police visit Magnificent Montague after nervous
citizens complain about his incendiary on-air use of "Burn, baby, burn". Unwillingly, he switches it to "Have mercy, baby!"
Watts burnt for another three days until 16,000 National Guardsmen, police and Highway Patrolmen quelled its 35,000
rebellious citizens - $200m worth of damage was caused, and of the 34 dead, most were black Americans. Charles Fizer,
from the R&B group the Olympics, was among them. More than 1,000 more were injured, including the comedian and activist
Dick Gregory, who was shot in the leg; 4,000 people were arrested. President Johnson condemned the uprising, saying, "Our conscience
cries out against the hatred we heard last week. It bore no relationship to the orderly struggle for civil rights that
has ennobled the last decade." But Senator Robert Kennedy commented, "There is no point in telling Negroes to observe
the law. It has almost always been used against them."
Al Bell, former head of Stax, recalls watching the spectacle
on television and thinking, "Well, we just have some more African-Americans that are tired of oppression." There was
certainly an appalling record of police brutality in Watts - the traditional training ground for rookie
cops - but poverty and unemployment had also pushed it over the edge. In the 1950s, there had been a huge black migration
west from Texas and the south, inspired by a sense that Los
Angeles was the promised land. But the reality was very different. The booming film industry
was mostly off-limits to blacks, and poor public transport and segregated housing impeded them from living near or commuting
to major industrial sites in LA. Slowly, Watts deteriorated. In the build-up to August 1965,
the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) was increasingly perceived by the LA black masses
as a middle-class institution that neglected their interests. Writing in the New York Times Magazine just after the
Watts uprising, social scientist Kenneth B Clark described the rebellion as an attempt "by prisoners
in the ghetto to destroy their own prison".
The Watts insurrection symbolised a dramatic
sea change in the civil rights movement. It was the harbinger of the Black Power era, an age of black consciousness
and militancy. Civil rights acts passed in 1964 and 1965 had heightened expectations among African-Americans, but the mood had
turned to one of frustration as they observed only microscopic shifts in their daily lives. The battle cry of "Burn, baby,
burn" echoed through the long, hot, violent summers of the second half of the 1960s. The civil rights movement became
more diverse as black militant groups such as the Black Panthers emerged and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee,
or SNCC ("Snick"), fronted by Stokely Carmichael, kicked out its white members. Faith in passive resistance diminished
and was eclipsed, in part, by a more aggressive black nationalism. Yet, despite the media's focus on its revolutionary rhetoric
and "Get Whitey" braggadocio, Black Power's main goals were attaining political, economic and psychological strength.
A
friend of Martin Luther King, Stax Records boss Al Bell recalls that, after King's assassination in 1968, "Blacks all of
a sudden wondered if it was a hopeless situation because here was the guy who talked about turning the other cheek and
all of a sudden he was killed." Bell believes that "Black Power was no more
than black people saying, 'We Are Somebody!' " but he also identifies it as "an intellectual, social and emotional rebellion
taking place among a people, and it manifested itself in the music".
Before the music, however, came the Watts
Summer Festival: without that, there would have been no Wattstax, says Tommy Jacquette, a Watts resident
who played "an active part" in the 1965 rebellion. The first festival, in 1966, was, he says, "a cultural celebration"
that "came straight out of the ashes of the 1965 revolt" and was a "memorial for the 34 people who died".
The
Watts Writers Workshop was also created in the wake of the uprising. Funded in part by Hollywood
scriptwriter Budd Schulberg (On The Waterfront), this was where the Watts poet and aspiring scriptwriter Richard Dedeaux
met Amde Hamilton and Otis O'Solomon, who formed the Watts Prophets. Performing regularly at the Summer Festival, they released
their first album, Rappin' Black In A White World, in 1971. It included the track Amerikkka, in which the Prophets screamed,
"Ask not what you can do for your country, 'cause what in the fuck has it done for you?" - lyrics, says Dedeaux, "that
automatically got us on the Un-American Activities list".
Stax, meanwhile, had catapulted from "the little label
that could" into a mighty corporate institution to rival Motown. It was also branching out into film. In 1972, the concert
promoter Forest Hamilton was in LA, tentatively establishing a movie arm, Stax West, when he was
introduced to Dedeaux. Hamilton invited Dedeaux to Memphis
to work on a film script and it was through this collaboration that the idea for a benefit concert was born. The idea
generated excitement at Stax, but as more musicians offered to perform for free, the label struggled to find a suitable
venue. A slightly nervous LAPD suggested the LA Coliseum - home to the LA Rams - because "they didn't want to see that
many black people in Watts 'uncorralled'!" says Jacquette, the man responsible for turning the Watts Summer Festival
into an annual event. But "It was a win/win for all of us. Their motives were different, but it was still a win/win."
Finally, a date was set: Sunday, August 20 1972, the last day
of the Watts Summer Festival. Mayor Yorty declared it "Wattstax Day" and for one extraordinary
Sunday, the LA Coliseum metamorphosed into a riot of funky, soulful music, black pride, zebra-striped flop hats, gymnastic dancing,
electric-yellow hotpants, Afros of inordinate volume and flares of unnatural width. Dedeaux remembers: "It was electrical,
man. The radio stations started playing it up, giving away tickets. Everybody just really got into it. It was a magic
thing."
At $1 a pop, tickets were affordable to everyone. Stax underwrote most of the expenses and Schlitz beer
acted as sponsors. Magnificent Montague's former radio station broadcast the event live and Al Bell hired an LA production
company to film it.
Weston's renditions of both national anthems and Jackson's speech, in which he spoke of "liberation
through music", kicked off six hours of fat, full-bodied Stax sounds. Famous black entertainers, including Shaft star
Richard Roundtree, presented each act, and Melvin Van Peebles, director of the film Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song,
introduced the first, the Staple Singers.
With Pops Staples dressed in a dazzling white safari suit and Mavis Staples
sporting large hoop earrings, the group launched into Heavy Makes You Happy, followed by black pride anthems Respect Yourself
and I Like The Things About Me. Of the latter, Mavis says, "We felt it was a good song to sing at that event. With Pops
saying, 'There was a time I wished my hair was fine.' Well, no. Not any more. We want our hair the way we came here
with it - nappy. That's what was happening. Black people were showing they were proud to be black. We were singing songs to
lift the people." In the middle of this bluesy number, with his guitar set in tremolo, Pops rapped a history lesson to
the crowd, declaring, "No nationality could go through what we been through and survive like the black people." He quoted
James Brown - "Say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud" - and praised "our own Black Moses, Isaac Hayes".
Just before
the Bar-Kays launched into Son Of Shaft, their saxophonist, balancing a huge white Afro wig on his head, boomed, "Freedom
is a road seldom travelled by the multitude." Both this and Jackson's holler,
"I don't know what the world is coming to!" were sampled years later by Public Enemy on their opus of rage, It Takes
A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back. Despite the uncompromising tone of some performances, the atmosphere was one of
celebration. For one hot day, the LA Coliseum flipped into an outrageous fashion parade as the crowd posed, strolled, strutted
and checked each other out; Wattstax buzzed with the bonhomie of Woodstock
and Monterey.
Amazingly, says Al Bell, "We were able to cut a deal with
the city. We had only black police officers, and not one of them had a gun." There were "no riots, no fights", according
to Bell, in spite of a 112,000-strong audience and a significant gang presence - at one point in the film, Tookie, head
of the Watts Crips, is seen signalling to gang members in the crowd.
Most of the Stax roster performed at Wattstax,
including Eddie Floyd and Albert King, Hayes and Rufus Thomas. As the sun dipped below the Pacific, "the world's oldest
teenager" took to the stage in hot-pink cape and shorts, and white go-go boots, imploring, "Ain't I clean?" before causing
uproar with Do The Funky Chicken. Flapping his arms and clucking, Thomas invited the crowd to invade the sacred turf of
the pitch. Within seconds, 5,000 people were doing the funky chicken right in front of the stage.
But if Thomas
was the court clown, Isaac "Big Ike" Hayes was the king of Wattstax. The roar of police motorbikes - lights flashing -
signalled that he was in the building. The atmosphere was eye-popping. Sporting a huge brown flop hat and a psychedelic-print
cape, Hayes mounted the stage. Jesse Jackson, standing next to him, yelled, "Do we want to see Isaac Hayes? Brothers
and sisters, we are about to bring forth a bad, bad ... " On the point of blurting out the oedipal expletive, Jackson gushed,
"I'm a preacher, I can't say it!" With the theme from Shaft throbbing in the background, Hayes ripped off his cape, revealing
a thick gold chain vest. "Shaft" and "Black Moses" flashed wildly on the huge screen. The crowd screamed and Jackson
looked thrilled.
Hayes performed for an hour. His set included Shaft and Soulsville, and an extraordinary 18-minute
version of Bill Withers' Ain't No Sunshine, before it came down to rest with a mellow I Stand Accused. Wattstax drew to
a close with Kim Weston singing If I Had A Hammer with the audience.
Today, Jacquette remembers that there wasn't
"one single problem" at Wattstax. He was delighted that the event contradicted the racist stereotype that a large number
of black people "can't get together without having a revolt". "It was," he says, "a day of unity."
It was not the
first time the community had displayed such togetherness. The sleeve notes to the two double live Wattstax albums stressed
an explicit connection between the riots and Wattstax, saluting the citizens of Watts in 1965,
"who stood together and demanded to be heard". In a documentary film about Wattstax, director Mel Stuart (responsible
for Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory a year earlier) created an unflinching portrait of the Watts community, who rapped
about racism, civil rights, relationships, the blues, Vietnam and social changes since 1965. This was intercut with
news archive of the '65 uprising and images of Black Power politicians. A kind of Greek chorus was presented by a fledgling
Richard Pryor, whose mischievous monologues glue the film together: "They accidentally shoot more niggers out here than
any place else in the world. Every time I pick up the paper - 'Nigger accidentally shot in the ass'." The film was released
by Columbia Pictures and kicked off the Cannes Film Festival in 1973. In Lagos, Wattstax was a hot draw.
But
the event was not without its critics. Stax artist Donald "Duck" Dunn grumbled, "Were they doing it for the people in LA
or to promote Al Bell in LA?" In his defence, Bell insists, "That's the American way!" The original intent was to raise
money for the Watts Summer Festival, but as a label boss, he says, "I had a responsibility to my artists."
Under
Bell, Stax was now black-owned and, at Wattstax, its black musicians were performing to a black crowd whose ticket fee
was helping black charities, among them the Martin Luther King Hospital, the Sickle Cell Anemia Foundation, Jesse Jackson's
Operation Push (People United to Save Humanity) and the Watts Summer Festival itself. But while Soul magazine described
Wattstax as "completely black-controlled", "whitey's" fingerprints were detected on some parts of the event. For a start,
the documentary film director, Mel Stuart, was white, and Schlitz and Columbia, who sponsored the concert and film respectively,
were both white-owned. But to Al Bell, "What was important was to get the very best, it wasn't about colour. There was
enough colour in putting the event on." Today, he is adamant that Wattstax reflected the Black Power ideologies: "Here
was a little black company that was able to go to LA, where you had all the giant corporations, and get the musicians out there,
hire Mel Stuart, take a stadium and finance the production, then get Columbia to distribute it, and not ask any of them
for any money. Now, from an economic standpoint, that was the ultimate in Black Power!"
After the heady days of
Wattstax, life and death continued in the City of Angels. Ten years ago, LA burnt again after members of the LAPD were acquitted
of brutality towards Rodney King. Tommy Jacquette has faithfully produced a Watts Summer Festival each year, still commemorating
"the 34 people who died in 1965 and the cultural contribution of a people".
"The people of Watts," he says, "sent
a message to the people of the world: 'Here we are. Hear what it's about. Hear what our struggle is about!'"
The
Watts Summer Festival runs August 9-11. A Wattstax CD box set is released by Ace Records in September. To hear a live recording
of I Like The Things About Me by The Staple Singers, go to www.guardian.co.uk/arts, or call 09068 626828 and use code 1369. Calls cost 60p per minute.
Copyright Guardian
Newspapers Limited
One points needs to be corrected. It wasn't Schlitz who helped in sponsoring, it was a black man,
former football star Willie Davis who happened to own a Schlitz distributorship. He paid for a small portion of the stadium
rental cost for sinage. We did not need it, but, if my memory serves me correctly, Forrest thought it would be a great
idea, firstly, to help Willie Davis as a black entrepreneur and secondly to have a Los Angeles black owned business involvement
. Willie Davis deserves this recognition and not Schlitz. Stax paid for everything else!!!!!!!!!! Al Bell
.
Early in the civil rights movement, a young preacher
came to speak on the steps of WERD in Atlanta, the nation's first black-owned radio station, where disc jockey
Jack "The Rapper" Gibson decided to give the minister a larger audience.
From the second story of the studio, Gibson ran
a long line and microphone out the window to the street below, where the preacher used it to deliver a stirring speech heard
all over the city.
Thanks to Gibson, who eventually wound up in the
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland and the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., the voice of the Rev. Martin
Luther King Jr. was delivered for the first time over the airwaves.
Joseph Deighton Gibson Jr., one of America's first
black disc jockeys, who popularized what is now called urban radio and later, as a record executive, helped launch the singing
careers of Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson,
Those changes included Gibson's design of a broadcast
studio in which the DJs stood up to better project their voices -- a concept that was adopted by stations nationwide.
Also known as "Jockey Jack," Gibson began his radio
career at WJJD in Chicago in 1945. In October 1949 he became one of the original DJs at
WERD. In the early 1960s, at WCIN in Cincinnati, Gibson's show featured new artists whom he sent to his good friend, Berry Gordy, founder of Motown Records in Detroit.
They included Mary Wells, Smokey Robinson and the
Miracles and Stevie Wonder.
In 1962 Gibson went to work for Motown as the record
label's first national director of promotions and public relations. At the start of the Miracles' 1963 hit recording of "Mickey's
Monkey," Gibson shouts: "Hey Smokey!"
In 1972 Gibson used his influence in the record
industry to help secure an Academy Award nomination for best soundtrack for the movie "Shaft," which was written and performed
by Isaac Hayes. The album won, making Hayes the first black artist to win an Oscar in the soundtrack category.
In 1995 Gibson was featured in an exhibit of America's top DJs at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. In 1986 he received
a Smithsonian Institute honor for his contributions to black radio -- now called urban radio -- and black music.
Born May 13, 1920, in Chicago, Gibson was the eldest of five children of Dr. Joseph Gibson and the former Lilian Schweich,
a schoolteacher. He graduated from LincolnUniversity in Jefferson, Mo., where he was a member of the Omega Psi Pfi fraternity. In 1990
Gibson received from Lincoln
an honorary doctorate.
After college, Gibson starred in "Here Comes Tomorrow,"
the first radio soap opera to feature an all-black cast.
As a disc jockey, Gibson infuriated record companies
by insisting that they hire black representatives to promote records by black performers at black radio stations.
"I'd say send me a brother if you want me to play
this," Gibson said in his two-volume audio autobiography, "A Journey Through Black Radio in America." "They couldn't stand me for that. But it got a lot of jobs
for blacks."
In 1955 Gibson organized black radio announcers
through the National Association of Radio Announcers.
Gibson worked for Motown from 1962 to '66, for
Decca Records as Midwest region director (1966-69) and for Stax Records as vice president
of promotions (1969-72).
In 1969 he helped launch the career of the Jackson 5, featuring a young Michael Jackson.
In 1977 Gibson started the Family Affair National
Music Conference in Atlanta, where young recording artists made their debuts and were signed
by major record labels.
Gibson moved to Las Vegas eight years ago and in 1998 was inducted into the Nevada Broadcasting Hall of Fame.
In 1996 Jack Gibson's record collection was housed
in the Archives of African American Music and Culture at IndianaUniversity.
As an actor Gibson appeared in the movies "Class
Act" with rappers Kid 'N Play and in "Passenger 57" with Wesley Snipes, and in the MC Hammer music video "Pray."
Cathy Hughes was turned down by 32 banks before securing a loan to buy her first radio station in the early 1980s. Struggling
at first, the single mother and her teenage son literally lived at the office, cooking on a hot plate and bathing in the restroom.
But she parlayed her mix of talk, political commentary, and activism into a $287 million company that owns 65 radio stations
around the country. Radio One was founded in 1980 and is the seventh largest radio broadcasting company in the United States
based on 2001 pro forma net revenue. They are also the largest radio broadcasting
company in the United States primarily targeting African-Americans. Radio One own
and/or operate 65 stations in 22 markets.Thirty-six of these stations (26 FM
and 10 AM) are in 14 of the top 20 African-American radio markets. They
also program five channels on the XM Satellite Radio system.Go to Radio One at;
Lionel Hampton is one of the most extraordinary musicians of the
20th century and his artistic achievements symbolize the impact that jazz music has had on our culture in the 21st century.
He
was born April 20, 1908 in Louisville, Kentucky. His father, Charles Hampton, a promising pianist and singer, was reported
missing and later declared killed in World War I. Lionel and his mother, Gertrude, first moved to Birmingham, Alabama, to
be with her family, then settled in Chicago.
He attended the Holy Rosary Academy, near Kenosha, Wisconsin, where a
Dominican sister give him his first drum lessons.
While in high school, Les Hite gave Lionel a job in a teenage band. Later, the 15-year-old Lionel,
who had just graduated from high school, promised his grandmother he would continue to say his daily prayers and left for
Los Angeles to join Reb Spikes's Sharps and Flats. He also played with Paul Howard's Quality Serenaders and a new band organized
by Hite, which backed Louis Armstrong at the Cotton Club.
In 1930, Hampton was called in to a recording session with Armstrong, and during a break Hampton
walked over to a vibraphone and started to play. He ended up playing the vibes on one song. The song became a hit; Hampton
had introduced a new voice to jazz and he became "King of the Vibes." When Benny Goodman heard him play,
Goodman immediately asked Hampton to record with him, Gene Krupa on drums and Teddy Wilson on piano. The Benny Goodman Quartet
recorded the jazz classics "Dinah," "Moonglow," "My Last Affair," and "Exactly Like You." Hampton's addition to the groups
also marked the breaking of the color barrier; the Benny Goodman Quartet was the first racially integrated group of jazz musicians
As a bandleader, he established the Lionel Hampton Orchestra that became known
around the world for its tremendous energy, dazzling showmanship and first-class jazz musicianship. "Sunny Side of the Street,"
"Central Avenue Breakdown," his signature tune, "Flying Home," and "Hamp's Boogie-Woogie" all became top-of-the-chart best-sellers
upon release and the name Lionel Hampton became world famous overnight, and the Lionel Hampton Orchestra had a phenomenal
array of sidemen.
As a composer and arranger, Hampton wrote more than 200 works, including the jazz standards
Flying Home, Evil Gal Blues, and Midnight Sun. He also composed the major symphonic work, "King David Suite."
As a businessman, he established two record labels, his own publishing company, and he founded the
Lionel Hampton Development Corporation to build low-income housing in inner cities.
In his continuing role as an educator, he began working with University of Idaho in the early 1980s
to establish his dream for the future of music education. In 1985, the University named its jazz festival for him, and in
1987 the University's music school was named the Lionel Hampton School of Music. Nearly 20 years later, the University of
Idaho has developed an unprecedented relationship with Hampton by ensuring that his vision lives through the Lionel Hampton
Center, a $60 million project that will provide a "home for jazz," housing the university's Jazz Festival, its School of Music,
and its International Jazz Collections, all designed to help teach and preserve the heritage of jazz. Go to their tribute
sitehttp://www.uidaho.edu/hampton/index.html
His lifetime of "swinging" is well documented through hundreds of recordings, many of which rank
among the best in jazz, and all of which will be housed and studied inside the Lionel Hampton Center in Moscow, Idaho, slated
to open in 2006.
Lionel Hampton passed away Saturday, August 31, 2002
Vet Harris drives a horse-drawn hearse as he leads a funeral procession for Lionel Ham
Wynton Marsalis led the second line - a New Orleans funeral tradition - to honor Hamp
NEW YORK (AP) The remains of jazz great Lionel Hampton were carried in a white horse-drawn hearse through the streets of
Harlem on Saturday, with trumpeter Wynton Marsalis blowing a dirge to lead the funeral procession. The 94-year-old
showman and bandleader died Aug. 31 of heart failure. Hampton suffered two strokes in 1995 and had been in failing health
in recent years. Starting from the Cotton Club, once an icon of great music, hundreds of mourners walked in a procession to
a service at the nearby Riverside Church. President George W. Bush sent a letter of condolence, which was read by his father.
``His legacy of music, education and civic dedication will continue to inspire generations to come,'' the former president
said, quoting his son. A condolence letter from former president Bill Clinton was also read at the service. The service was
presided over by the Rev. James Forbes, pastor of the church, who called Hampton ``this 20th Century marvel of a man'' The
Rev. Calvin Butts, pastor of the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, also spoke at the service, calling Hampton ``an inspiration.
He lived a long time. God gave him energy to continue his music for as along as he lived.'' Bush remembered meeting Hampton
when the former president was director of the Central Intelligence Agency in the 1970s. At the time, Bush said, morale at
the spy agency was low. ``He loaded his band on a bus they came to CIA headquarters and performed to an overflow crowd,''
Bush recalled. After the service, Hampton was buried at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, near other greats of American music
Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, Coleman Hawkins and Irving Berlin. ``Yes, I love this man,'' Bush told the congregation,
his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke, with Hampton's coffin nearby. ``This incredibly gifted musician had an incredible
knack for friendship.''
Lifetime Achievement Grammy recipent sings what he feels.
Bobby Blue Bland has created a sound utterly of his own, one that has placed more than 61 songs
on the R & B charts. When asked about how he has attained such a successful career, the always modest and humble Bland
stated, "I just sing what I feel. Its about life. You get hurt, you get happy."
Born Robert Calvin Brooks on January 27, 1930, in tiny Rosemark, Tennessee (he later took his fathers
surname), Bland was nurtured by a wide range of music he heard growing up as a child. Most notably, after his family moved
to Memphis in 1947, Bland sang in a Gospel group, The Miniatures, where he learned his trademark blues snort by watching the
spirited sermons of the Reverend C. L. Franklin, father of Aretha Franklin.
As years past, Bland drew up a passion for singing the blues. He soon worked his way onto legendary
Beale Street parking cars at a place called Billys garage, behind the Malco Theater (which is now the Orpheum). He would compete
in talent contests hosted by Rufus Thomas at the Palace Theater. It was on Beale Street that he became a member of the almost
mythical Beale Streeters, a short lived "supergroup" that included such notables as B. B. King, Johnny Ace, Junior Parker,
Roscoe Gordon and Earl Forrest. On down the line, in 1951, Bland cut two sides produced by Sam Phillips for the Chess label.
In 1952, he cut four more produced by Ike Turner for the Modern label. But it was later that year when Bobby signed with the
upstart Houston label, Duke, that Bobby began to make a huge impact on the music industry. He released an impressive 45 chart
topping singles. Some of which included, "I Pity The Fool", "Call On Me", "Turn On Your Love Light", and "Yield Not To Temptation"
to name a few of the tremendous classic songs released on the Duke label that have formed Bobby Bland and his music into the
dazzling entertainer he is today.
In 1985, Bobby signed with Malaco Records. He has released nine albums to date with Malaco. In
1997, he was the recipient of the Recording Academys coveted "Lifetime Achievement" Grammy. November 9, 1998, brought him
The Blues Foundations "Lifetime Achievement Award".
Bobby Blue Bland is a class act in the music industry. The heart felt emotions displayed on each
and every song truly deem him worthy of any award around. He simply says, "If youve got something worthwhile, hold on to it."
And hold on to it he has with his latest release on the Malaco label "Memphis Monday Morning" which is a culmination of the
feelings, magic, and emotion that can only be expressed by the truly great, Bobby Blue Bland.
Big Al Carson
Every city has one--a local blues legend whom everyone acknowledges, but for some reason or another has been largely
ignored by the recording industry. And in many cases the artist has adopted this new home, hoping, perhaps, that his luck
would change along with the new surroundings. In Baltimore, it's Big Jessie Yawn with his booming baritone of a voice which
invariably draws a big crowd. In New York, guitarist Larry Johnson plys his daily trade and is very much taken for granted.
For three decades in Washington, D.C., Bobby Parker played in dives that lined 14th Street, until finally landing a contract
with Black Top in 1993. Likewise, the gentle giant of the New Orleans blues scene, Big Al Carson, has to endure a relentless,
six-night-a-week ordeal on Bourbon St. just to make ends meet. And so it is with Philadelphia's Big Guitar Red, who amazes
audiences whenever he takes the stage.
Jack The Rapper
A Brief History of the Blues by Robert M. Baker
Joseph Machlis says that the blues is a native American musical and verse form, with no direct European and African antecedents
of which we know. (p. 578) In other words, it is a blending of both traditions. Something special and entirely different from
either of its parent traditions. (Although Alan Lomax cites some examples of very similar songs having been found in Northwest
Africa, particularly among the Wolof and Watusi. p. 233)
The word 'blue' has been associated with the idea of melancholia
or depression since the Elizabethan era. The American writer, Washington Irving is credited with coining the term 'the blues,'
as it is now defined, in 1807. (Tanner 40) The earlier (almost entirely Negro) history of the blues musical tradition is traced
through oral tradition as far back as the 1860s. (Kennedy 79)
When African and European music first began to merge
to create what eventually became the blues, the slaves sang songs filled with words telling of their extreme suffering and
privation. (Tanner 36) One of the many responses to their oppressive environment resulted in the field holler. The field holler
gave rise to the spiritual, and the blues, "notable among all human works of art for their profound despair . . . They
gave voice to the mood of alienation and anomie that prevailed in the construction camps of the South," for it was in
the Mississippi Delta that blacks were often forcibly conscripted to work on the levee and land-clearing crews, where they
were often abused and then tossed aside or worked to death. (Lomax 233)
Alan Lomax states that the blues tradition
was considered to be a masculine discipline (although some of the first blues songs heard by whites were sung by 'lady' blues
singers like Mamie Smith and Bessie Smith) and not many black women were to be found singing the blues in the juke-joints.
The Southern prisons also contributed considerably to the blues tradition through work songs and the songs of death row and
murder, prostitutes, the warden, the hot sun, and a hundred other privations. (Lomax) The prison road crews and work gangs
where were many bluesmen found their songs, and where many other blacks simply became familiar with the same songs.
Following the Civil War (according to Rolling Stone), the blues arose as "a distillate of the African music brought
over by slaves. Field hollers, ballads, church music and rhythmic dance tunes called jump-ups evolved into a music for a singer
who would engage in call-and-response with his guitar. He would sing a line, and the guitar would answer it." (RSR&RE
53) (author's note: I've seen somewhere, that the guitar did not enjoy widespread popularity with blues musicians until about
the turn of the century. Until then, the banjo was the primary blues instrument.) By the 1890s the blues were sung in many
of the rural areas of the South. (Kamien 518) And by 1910, the word 'blues' as applied to the musical tradition was in fairly
common use. (Tanner 40)
Some 'bluesologists' claim (rather dubiously), that the first blues song that was ever written
down was 'Dallas Blues,' published in 1912 by Hart Wand, a white violinist from Oklahoma City. (Tanner 40) The blues form
was first popularized about 1911-14 by the black composer W.C. Handy (1873-1958). However, the poetic and musical form of
the blues first crystallized around 1910 and gained popularity through the publication of Handy's "Memphis Blues"
(1912) and "St. Louis Blues" (1914). (Kamien 518) Instrumental blues had been recorded as early as 1913. Mamie Smith
recorded the first vocal blues song, 'Crazy Blues' in 1920. (Priestly 9) Priestly claims that while the widespread popularity
of the blues had a vital influence on subsequent jazz, it was the "initial popularity of jazz which had made possible
the recording of blues in the first place, and thus made possible the absorption of blues into both jazz as well as the mainstream
of pop music." (Priestly 10)
American troops brought the blues home with them following the First World War.
They did not, of course, learn them from Europeans, but from Southern whites who had been exposed to the blues. At this time,
the U.S. Army was still segregated. During the twenties, the blues became a national craze. Records by leading blues singers
like Bessie Smith and later, in the thirties, Billie Holiday, sold in the millions. The twenties also saw the blues become
a musical form more widely used by jazz instrumentalists as well as blues singers. (Kamien 518)
During the decades
of the thirties and forties, the blues spread northward with the migration of many blacks from the South and entered into
the repertoire of big-band jazz. The blues also became electrified with the introduction of the amplified guitar. In some
Northern cities like Chicago and Detroit, during the later forties and early fifties, Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, John Lee
Hooker, Howlin' Wolf, and Elmore James among others, played what was basically Mississippi Delta blues, backed by bass, drums,
piano and occasionally harmonica, and began scoring national hits with blues songs. At about the same time, T-Bone Walker
in Houston and B.B. King in Memphis were pioneering a style of guitar playing that combined jazz technique with the blues
tonality and repertoire. (RSR&RE 53)
In the early nineteen-sixties, the urban bluesmen were "discovered"
by young white American and European musicians. Many of these blues-based bands like the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, the
Rolling Stones, the Yardbirds, John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, Cream, Canned Heat, and Fleetwood Mac, brought the blues to young
white audiences, something the black blues artists had been unable to do in America except through the purloined white cross-over
covers of black rhythm and blues songs. Since the sixties, rock has undergone several blues revivals. Some rock guitarists,
such as Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Jimi Hendrix, and Eddie Van Halen have used the blues as a foundation for offshoot styles.
While the originators like John Lee Hooker, Albert Collins and B.B. King--and their heirs Buddy Guy, Otis Rush, and later
Eric Clapton and the late Roy Buchanan, among many others, continued to make fantastic music in the blues tradition. (RSR&RE
53) The latest generation of blues players like Robert Cray and the late Stevie Ray Vaughan, among others, as well as gracing
the blues tradition with their incredible technicality, have drawn a new generation listeners to the blues.
The
Blue Tonalities And What Defines The Blues There are a number of different ideas as to what the blues really are: a scale
structure, a note out of tune or out of key, a chord structure; a philosophy? The blues is a form of Afro-American origin
in which a modal melody has been harmonized with Western tonal chords. (Salzman 18) In other words, we had to fit it into
our musical system somehow. But, the problem was that the blues weren't sung according to the European ideas of even tempered
pitch, but with a much freer use of bent pitches and otherwise emotionally inflected vocal sounds. (Machlis 578) These 'bent'pitches
are known as 'blue notes'.
The 'blue notes' or blue tonalities are one of the defining characteristics of the blues.
Tanner's opinion is that these tonalities resulted from the West Africans' search for comparative tones not included in their
pentatonic scale. He claims that the West African scale has neither the third or seventh tone nor the flat third or flat seventh.
"Because of this, in the attempt to imitate either of these tones the pitch was sounded approximately midway between
[the minor AND major third, fifth, or seventh], causing what is called a blue tonality." (Tanner 37) When the copyists
attempted to write down the music, they came up with the so-called "blues scale," in which the third, the seventh,
and sometimes the fifth scale-degrees were lowered a half step, producing a scale resembling the minor scale. (Machlis 578)
There are many nuances of melody and rhythm in the blues that are difficult, if not impossible to write in conventional notation.
(Salzman 18) But the blue notes are not really minor notes in a major context. In practice they may come almost anywhere.
(Machlis 578)
Before the field cry, with its bending of notes, it had not occurred to musicians to explore the area
of the blue tonalities on their instruments. (Tanner 38) The early blues singers would sing these "bent" notes,
microtonal shadings, or "blue" notes, and the early instrumentalists attempted to duplicate them. (Kamien 520) By
the mid-twenties, instrumental blues were common, and "playing the blues" for the instrumentalist could mean extemporizing
a melody within a blues chord sequence. Brass, reed, and string instrumentalists, in particular, were able to produce many
of the vocal sounds of the blues singers. (Machlis 578-9)
Blues Lyrics Blues lyrics contain some of the
most fantastically penetrating autobiographical and revealing statements in the Western musical tradition. For instance, the
complexity of ideas implicit in Robert Johnson's 'Come In My Kitchen,' such as a barely concealed desire, loneliness, and
tenderness, and much more:
You better come in my kitchen, It's gonna be rainin' outdoors.
Blues lyrics
are often intensely personal, frequently contain sexual references and often deal with the pain of betrayal, desertion, and
unrequited love (Kamien 519) or with unhappy situations such as being jobless, hungry, broke, away from home, lonely, or downhearted
because of an unfaithful lover. (Tanner 39)
The early blues were very irregular rhythmically and usually followed
speech patterns, as can be heard in the recordings made in the twenties and thirties by the legendary bluesmen Charley Patton,
Blind Lemon Jefferson, Robert Johnson and Lightnin' Hopkins among others. (RSR&RE 53) The meter of the blues is usually
written in iambic pentameter. The first line is generally repeated and third line is different from the first two. (Tanner
38) The repetition of the first line serves a purpose as it gives the singer some time to come up with a third line. Often
the lyrics of a blues song do not seem to fit the music, but a good blues singer will accent certain syllables and eliminate
others so that everything falls nicely into place. (Tanner 38)
The structure of blues lyrics usually consists of
several three-line verses. The first line is sung and then repeated to roughly the same melodic phrase (perhaps the same phrase
played diatonically a perfect fourth away), the third line has a different melodic phrase:
I'm going to leave
baby, ain't going to say goodbye. I'm going to leave baby, ain't going to say goodbye. But I'll write you and tell you the
reason why. (Kamien 519)
Construction Of The Blues Most blues researchers claim that the very early blues
were patterned after English ballads and often had eight, ten, or sixteen bars. (Tanner 36) The blues now consists of a definite
progression of harmonies usually consisting of eight, twelve or sixteen measures, though the twelve bar blues are, by far,
the most common.
The 12 bar blues harmonic progression (the one-four-five) is most often agreed to be the following:
four bars of tonic, two of subdominant, two of tonic, two of dominant, and two of tonic. Or, alternatively, I,I,I,I,IV,IV,I,I,V,V,I,I.
Each roman numeral indicates a chord built on a specific tone in the major scale. Due to the influence of rock and roll, the
tenth chord has been changed to IV. This alteration is now considered standard. (Tanner 37) In practice, various intermediate
chords, and even some substitute chord patterns, have been used in blues progressions, at least since the nineteen-twenties.
(Machlis 578) Some purists feel that any variations or embellishments of the basic blues pattern changes its quality or validity
as a blues song. For instance, if the basic blues chord progression is not used, then the music being played is not the blues.
Therefore, these purists maintain that many melodies with the word "blues" in the title, and which are often spoken
of as being the blues, are not the blues because their melodies lack this particular basic blues harmonic construction. (Tanner
37) I believe this viewpoint to be a bit wide of the mark, because it places a greater emphasis on blues harmony than melody.
The principal blues melodies are, in fact, holler cadences, set to a steady beat and thus turned into dance music
and confined to a three-verse rhymed stanza of twelve to sixteen bars. (Lomax 275) The singer can either repeat the same basic
melody for each stanza or improvise a new melody to reflect the changing mood of the lyrics. (Kamien 519) Blues rhythm is
also very flexible. Performers often sing "around" the beat, accenting notes either a little before or behind the
beat. (Kamien)
Jazz instrumentalists frequently use the chord progression of the twelve-bar blues as a basis for
extended improvisations. The twelve or sixteen bar pattern is repeated while new melodies are improvised over it by the soloists.
As with the Baroque bassocontinuo, the repeated chord progression provides a foundation for the free flow of such improvised
melodic lines. (Kamien 520)
Conclusion One of the problems regarding defining what the blues are is the
variety of authoritative opinions. The blues is neither an era in the chronological development of jazz, nor is it actually
a particular style of playing or singing jazz. (Tanner 35) Some maintain (mostly musicologists) that the blues are defined
by the use of blue notes (and on this point they also differ - some say that they are simply flatted thirds, fifths, and sevenths
applied to a major scale [forming a pentatonic scale]; some maintain that they are microtones; and some believe that they
are the third, or fifth, or seventh tones sounded simultaneously with the flatted third, or fifth, or seventh tones respectively
[minor second intervals]). Others feel that the song form (twelve bars, one-four-five) is the defining feature of the blues.
Some feel that the blues is a way to approach music, a philosophy, in a manner of speaking. And still others hold a much wider
sociological view that the blues are an entire musical tradition rooted in the black experience of the post-war South. Whatever
one may think of the social implications of the blues, whether expressing the American or black experience in microcosm, it
was their "strong autobiographical nature, their intense personal passion, chaos and loneliness, executed so vibrantly
that it captured the imagination of modern musicians" and the general public as well. (Shapiro 13)
Works
Cited Kamien, Michael. _Music: An Appreciation_. 3d Ed. N.Y.: McGraw Hill, 1984.; Kennedy, Michael. _The Concise Oxford
Dictionary of Music_. N.Y.: 1980.; Lomax, Alan. _The Land Where the Blues Began_. N.Y.: Pantheon Books, 1993.; Pareles, Jon
and Patricia Romanowski, eds. _The Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll_.N.Y.: Rolling Stone Press, 1983.; Priestly,
Brian. _Jazz On Record: A History_. N.Y.: Billboard Books, 1991.; Salzman, Eric and Michael Sahl. _Making Changes_. N.Y.:
G. Schirmer, 1977.; Shapiro, Harry. _Eric Clapton: Lost in the Blues_. N.Y.: Da Capo Press, 1992.; Tanner, Paul and Maurice
Gerow. _A Study of Jazz_. Dubuque, IA: William C. Brown Publishers, 1984.
Blues By The Decade
BLUES by decade: Blues is about tradition and personal expression. At its core, the blues has remained the same since
its inception. Most blues feature simple, usually three-chord, progressions and have simple structures that are open to endless
improvisations, both lyrical and musical. The blues grew out of African spirituals and worksongs. In the late 1800s, southern
African-Americans passed the songs down orally, and they collided with American folk and country from the Appalachians. New
hybrids appeared by each region, but all of the recorded blues from the early 1900s are distinguished by simple, rural acoustic
guitars and pianos. After World War II, the blues began to fragment, with some musicians holding on to acoustic traditions
and others taking it to jazzier territory. However, most bluesmen followed Muddy Waters' lead and played the blues on electric
instruments. From that point on, the blues continued to develop in new directions particularly on electric instruments or
it has been preserved as an acoustic tradition.
Bessie Smith
Born April 15, 1894 in Chatanooga, TN; Died September 26, 1937 in Clarksdale, MS
The first major blues and jazz singer on record and one of the most powerful of all time, Bessie
Smith rightly earned the title of "The Empress of the Blues." Even on her first records in 1923, her passionate voice overcame
the primitive recordinq quality of the day and still communicates easily to today's listeners (which is not true of any other
singer from that early period). At a time when the blues were in and most vocalists (particularly vaudevillians) were being
dubbed "blues singers," Bessie Smith simply had no competition. Back in 1912, Bessie Smith sang in the same show as Ma Rainey
who took her under her wing and coached her. Although Rainey would achieve a measure of fame throughout her career, she was
soon surpassed by her protégé. In 1920 Bessie had her own show in Atlantic City and in 1923 she moved to New York. She was
soon signed by Columbia and her first recording (Alberta Hunter's "Downhearted Blues") made her famous. Bessie worked and
recorded steadily throughout the decade, using many top musicians as sidemen on sessions including Louis Armstrong, Joe Smith
(her favorite cornetist), James P. Johnson and Charlie Green. Her summer tent show Harlem Frolics was a big success durinq
1925-27 and Mississippi Days in 1928 kept the momentum going.
However by 1929 the blues were out-of-fashion and Bessie
Smith's career was declining despite being at the peak of her powers (and still only 35!). She appeared in St. Louis Blues
that year (a low-budget movie short that contains the only footage of her) but her hit recordinq of "Nobody Knows You When
You're Down and Out" predicted her leaner Depression years. Although she was dropped by Columbia in 1931 and made her final
recordings on a four-song session in 1933, Bessie Smith kept on working. She played the Apollo in 1935 and substituted for
Billie Holiday in the show Stars over Broadway. The chances are very good that she would have made a comeback, starting with
a Carnegie Hall appearance at John Hammond's upcoming "From Spirituals to Swing" concert, but she was killed in a car crash
in Mississippi. Columbia has reissued all of her recordings, first in five two-LP sets and more recently on five two-CD boxes
that also contain her five alternate takes, the soundtrack of St. Louis Blues and an interview with her niece Ruby Smith.
"The Empress of the Blues," based on her recordings, will never have to abdicate her throne! -- Scott Yanow, All Music Guide
In 1980, Malaco hired Clark. His unrivaled access to radio and credibility with artists soon paid
off with his recruitment of Z.Z. Hill. Malaco now stopped trying to compete with mainstream labels.
It fell back on what it did so well - down home black music. Larger labels dismissed the genre as an unprofitable relic of
the past. However, Malaco could make a tidy profit selling 25,000 - 50,000 units. Starting with Z.Z Hill, Malaco became the
center of the universe for old-time blues and soul.
Since blues supposedly no longer sold, everyone was shocked when Hill's second
album, Down Home Blues, sold 500,000 copies. It was the most successful blues album ever, revealing a core audience for quality
blues records. It also became an anthem for R&B singers struggling against disco and the emergence of rap.
Denise LaSalle charted fourteen times in the 1970s. But during the disco era,
her R&B style was called blues, and big labels were no longer interested. At Dave Clark's suggestion, she wrote "Someone
Else is Steppin In" for Z.Z. Hill.
It was a southern blues-radio staple and racked up substantial sales, but never
showed up on national charts. This became the rule. Malaco's undisputed sales successes could never be measured by Billboard
chart positions during the 1980s.
Contemporary Blues Stars: Little Milton,Pat Brown,Denise Lasalle,Bobby Rush
Types Of Blues.
There are many differnt styles of Blues check out the definitions below according to the All Music Guide
Chicago Style What is now referred to as the "classic Chicago style" was developed in the late 1940s and early
1950s, taking Delta blues, amplifying it and putting it into a small-band context. Adding drums, bass, and piano (sometimes
saxophones) to the basic string band and harmonica aggregation, the genre created the now standard blues band lineup. The
form was (and is) flexible to accommodate singers, guitarists, pianists and harmonica players as the featured performer in
front of the standard instrumentation. Later permutations of the style took place in the late 1950s and early 60s with new
blood taking their cue from the lead guitar work of B.B.King and T-Bone Walker, creating the popular West Side sub genre which
usually featured a horn section appended to the basic rhythm section. Although the form embraced rock beats and modern funk
rhythms in the '80s and '90s, it has since generally stayed within the guidelines developed in the 1950s and early 60s. Cub
Koda
Country Blues A catch all term that delineates the depth and breadth of the first flowering of guitar-driven
blues, embracing solo, duo, and string band performers. The term also provides a convenient general heading for all the multiple
regional styles and variations (Piedmont, Atlanta, Memphis, Texas, Acoustic Chicago, Delta, ragtime, folk, songster, etc.)
of the form. While early Piano Blues and Classic Female Blues often fall into this genre, Country-Blues is primarily but
not exclusively a genre filled with acoustic guitarists, embracing a multiplicity of techniques from elaborate fingerpicking
to the early roots of slide playing. But some country-blues performers like Lightnin' Hopkins and John Lee Hooker were to
later switch over to electric guitars without having to drastically change or alter their styles. Cub Koda List of
Country Blues styles Acoustic Blues Acoustic Country Blues Acoustic Memphis Blues Acoustic Mississippi
Blues Acoustic New Orleans Blues Blues Gospel Blues Revival Classic Female Blues Contemporary
Acoustic Blues Country Blues Dirty Blues Early American Blues East Coast Blues Folk-Blues
Modern Acoustic Blues Modern Country Blues Piano Blues Prewar Acoustic Blues Prewar Blues Prewar
Country Blues St. Louis Blues Work Songs East Coast Blues East Coast Blues essentially falls into
two categories: Piedmont Blues and Jump Blues and its variations. Musically, Piedmont Blues describes the shared style of
musicians from Georgia, the Carolinas, and Virginia as well as others from as far afield as Florida, West Virginia, Maryland,
and Delaware. It refers to a wide assortment of aesthetic values, performance techniques, and shared repertoire rooted in
common geographical, historical, and sociological circumstances. The Piedmont guitar style employs a complex fingerpicking
method in which a regular, alternating-thumb bass pattern supports a melody on treble strings. The guitar style is highly
syncopated and connects closely with an earlier string-band tradition integrating ragtime, blues, and country dance songs.
It's excellent party music with a full, rock-solid sound. Jump Blues is an uptempo, jazz-tinged style of blues that
first came to prominence in the mid to late 1940s. Usually featuring a vocalist in front of a large, horn-driven orchestra
or medium sized combo with multiple horns, the style is earmarked by a driving rhythm, intensely shouted vocals, and honking
tenor saxophone solos, all of those very elements a precursor to rock & roll. The lyrics are almost always celebratory
in nature, full of braggadocio and swagger. With less reliance on guitar work (the instrument usually being confined to rhythm
section status) than other styles, jump blues was the bridge between the older styles of blues-primarily those in a small
band context-and the big band jazz sound of the 1940s. Barry Lee Pearson & Cub Koda East Coast Blues styles
Jump Blues New York Blues Piedmont Blues Vaudeville Blues
Modern Electric Blues is an eclectic mixture,
a sub genre embracing both the old, the new and something that falls between the two. Some forms of it xeroxes the older styles
of urban blues-primarily offshoots of the electric Chicago band style-right down to playing the music itself on vintage instruments
and amplifiers from the period being replicated. It also a genre that pays homage to those vintage styles of playing while
simultaneously recasting them in contemporary fashion. It can also be-by turns-the most forward looking of all blues styles,
embracing rock beats and pyrotechnics and enlivening the form with funk rhythms and chord progressions that expand beyond
the standard three that usually comprises most blues forms. Cub Koda List of Modern Electric Blues styles Blues
British Blues Contemporary Blues Electric Blues Electric British Blues Electric Country Blues
Electric East Coast Blues Electric Memphis Blues Electric Memphis R&B Electric New Orleans Blues
Electric R&B Electric Swamp Blues Electric West Coast Blues Juke Joint Blues Memphis
Blues Modern Blues Modern Electric Blues Modern Electric Blues Modern Electric Chicago Blues Modern
Electric Harmonica Modern Electric Texas Blues Modern Louisiana Blues New Orleans Blues
New Orleans R&B Soul Blues Swamp Blues Uptown Blues Uptown Soul Urban Blues Texas
Blues A geographical sub-genre earmarked by a more relaxed, swinging feel than other styles of blues, Texas Blues
encompasses a number of style variations and has a long, distinguished history. Its earliest incarnation occurred in the mid
1920s, featuring acoustic guitar work rich in filigree patterns, almost an extension of the vocals rather than merely a strict
accompaniment to it. This version of Texas blues embraced both the songster and country-blues traditions, with its lyrics
relying less on affairs of the heart than in other forms. The next stage of development in the region's sound came after World
War II, bringing forth a fully electric style that featured jazzy, single-string soloing over predominantly horn-driven backing.
The style stays current with a raft of regional performers primarily working in a small combo context. Cub Koda List
of Texas Blues styles Acoustic Texas Blues Electric Texas Blues Texas Blues
Now predominantly known, if known at all, as the "Queen Of Extreme", her bawdy latter day raps and highly charged sex
grooves, Millie Jackson is probably one of the most underestimated and neglected soul voices of the last 30 years. The somewhat
lack lustre latter day career should not detract from some great work in the 70s and early 80s - it's time for a little respect!
Millie was raised by her preacher grandfather until the age of fourteen, when she ran away from what she considered to
be an overtly stifling environment and ever since she has been a trail blazing example of self sufficiency; not just in the
material she wrote or recorded but also in the way she took control of her artistic life, branching out into record production,
management and publishing. As a youngster, Jackson settled in New York (conflicting reports here, but some say to live with
her father?), did some early modelling work and cut her first single in 1969 on MGM. She had a taste of minor success in 1972
with the excellent 'A Child of God (It's Hard To Believe)', which you can still find on compilations of her work.
A number of hit singles then followed ('Hurts So Good, 'My Man Is A Sweet Man' which is still a Primer favourite, although
apparently Millie never really liked it) but the 1974 conceptual album "Caught Up" was the start of something particularly
special. The album chronicled a love triangle (man, wife, mistress), one side providing the perspective of the wife, the other
the mistress. Raunchy and exciting, she found her audience. It also featured a great rendition of Luther Ingram's 'If Loving
You Is Wrong I Don't Want To Be Right' for which she received two Grammy nominations. She followed it with the "Still Caught
Up" album which, unsurprisingly continued the story. Again, the album featured excellent songs and, above all, terrific vocal
work. This is possibly the better of the two albums (it has a wonderful version of Tom Jans 'Loving Arms') with a stronger
"storyline" and a ludicrously melodramatic ending. Great stuff!!. What people often forget or choose to ignore about Jackson
is just what a very fine singer she is - she has a husky, powerful voice and, importantly, it's instantly recognisable. Anyone
who goes back and listens to the 70s albums will be rewarded with a unique vision that should be entirely welcome in this
age of interchangeable voices and identikit production values. Surprisingly, it has been reported that the monologues first
started because Jackson had little or no confidence in her abilities as a singer. Always conscious that she had never had
any formal training, she used the monologue format to make up for what she considered to be her vocal shortcomings. "Free
And In Love", which followed the Caught Up albums, could loosely be described as the last of the trilogy - it's themes are
similar and the material is strong. Anyone of these albums makes a great first Millie Jackson purchase, but the Primer goes
for "Still Caught Up". You can get Caught Up and Still Caught Up on import as a package but, to be honest, listening to them
back to back is a little draining emotionally. And the individual CDs are available in the UK at mid price so that's probably
the best way to go.
In the 80s Jackson's star faded a little as she flirted more directly with rap (her albums in the 70s featured great
monologues but never at the expense of the material), duetted with Isaac Hayes and even Elton John. She also switched gears
and recorded a country album ("Just a Lil' Bit Country") that wasn't at all bad but which flopped quite badly - bad timing
more than anything else. In the 1990s she helped create and tour in a musical (Young Man, Older Woman), which was a real success
on the black theatre circuit in the mid 1990s. She also moved to the Ichiban label, and began to blend her gutsy, left of
mainstream R&B and soul with elements of rock and pop. You can get a "Best Of" that covers much of Millie's career but
in the Primer's view there's too much mediocrity mixed in with the good stuff. Much better to go straight to the ground breaking
mid to late 70s material and wallow in the drama - and get to hear a lady way ahead of her time! If you want to catch Millie
in a live setting, get the "Live and Uncensored" 2CD set. Funny, entertaining and great material.
There
is a Best Of but it really isn't the right way to listen to Millie Jackson. You need one of her great song cycles so get "Caught
Up" and "Still Caught Up". Just the one? It will have to be "Still Caught Up" Favourite Album:- Still Caught Up Favourite
Track:- Loving Arms
The blues don't make you poor, the blues don't bring you down. [The] blues is a thing, you get sad,
like when things ain't going right... the blues picks you up. Blues is a pick-up, it's not a let-down."---John Lee Hooker
John Lee Hooker is one of the giants of post-World War II blues, on a par with Muddy Waters, B.B. King, Willie Dixon, Howlin' Wolf, and Lightnin' Hopkins. Known as the father of the boogie, an incessant one-chord exercise in blues intensity and undying rhythm,
Hooker's sound is also a study in deep blues. From his guitar come shadowy tones, open tunings, feverish note clusters, and
that familiar chugging rhythm that has been his blues signature-all of which hark back to the music' s formative years.
Hooker
also owns one of the most distinctive voices in blues. It reaches down deep and comes together slowly and with careful consideration.
It' s soaked with sexuality, spiced with arrogance, and contains layers of weathered, bassy textures. Hear John Lee Hooker
once and both his voice and his guitar are thereafter unmistakable and unforgettable.
Unlike the other major blues
figures of the late 1940s and 1950s who hailed from Chicago, Texas, or Memphis, Hooker made his mark in Detroit and became
the Motor City's biggest blues star. He cut nearly as many recordings as Lightnin' Hopkins the artist many blues historians
believe to be the most recorded in the music's history. Because Hooker recorded under a number of pseudonyms to escape contractual
obligations, his recording catalog is a confusing maze of albums and singles.
Hooker not only was popular with black
blues audiences, but in the early '60s he influenced an entire generation of British blues-rockers. Groups such as the Animals
(the band had a major hit in 1964 with Hooker's "Boom Boom"), the Rolling Stones, John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, and early Fleetwood Mac all borrowed extensively from Hooker. In the U.S., Canned
Heat built much of its late-'60s repertoire from Hooker's boogie rhythms. More recently, blues- rockers such as Johnny Winter and George Thorogood have reinterpreted the Hooker boogie, while Bruce Springsteen made "Boom Boom" one
of his concert highpoints in the late '80s.
Hooker was born in Clarksdale, Mississippi, and was taught the basics
of blues guitar by his stepfather, Will Moore. As a child, Hooker learned to sing in church, and he professed an interest
in religious music, particularly gospel, during adolescence. Sometime around age fifteen, Hooker left the Delta and went to
Memphis, where he worked as an usher in a Beale Street theater and played his guitar on street corners for spare change. He
returned to Mississippi for a short while but left again, this time for Cincinnati, where he sang in such gospel groups as
the Fairfield Four and the Big Six.
Hooker moved to Detroit in 1943, hoping to cash in on assembly-line work there
during the height of World War II. He wound up a janitor in an automotive plant and played clubs and house parties in Detroit's
black neighborhoods. His recording career began in 1948 when he recorded his seminal blues number, "Boogie Chillen." Released
on the Modern label, the song introduced Hooker's penchant for hypnotic, one-chord guitar ramblings and his deep, chilling
vocals. "Boogie Chillen" was a throwback to prewar country blues and the antithesis of the slick rhythm & blues that filled
out the charts in the years immediately following World War II. Incredibly, "Boogie Chillen" made it all the way to number
1 on the R&B charts in early 1949 and today is considered one of the all-time classic songs in the blues treasury.
Hooker
recorded extensively between 1949 and 1952. His blues appeared on a variety of labels under a variety of pseudonyms, including
Birmingham Sam, Delta John, Texas Slim, Johnny Lee, John Williams, Boogie Man, and John Lee Booker. Modern released Hooker's
classic "Crawlin' Kingsnake"(111 k, 10 sec.) in 1949 and his biggest hit, "I'm in the Mood," in 1951, but other Hooker material surfaced
on the Regal, Gone, Staff, and Sensation labels. Despite the name deception, he never changed his sound. Always his guitar
work was dark and Delta-laced and deceptively simple in structure Hooker's guitar riffs were also supported by the rhythmic
stomping of his feet, which gave many of his songs an increased intensity.
In 1971, Jim Morrison of the Doors recorded
a version of Hooker's"Crawlin' King Snake"(112 k, 10 sec.)
Hooker recorded for Chess from 1952 to about 1954; during this time he also toured
with Muddy Waters and performed on his own. As in the past, he continued to record for other labels, despite his Chess connection.
Hooker songs appeared on the Gotham, Savoy, and Specialty labels, among others. But the label Hooker was most associated with
in the late '50s and early '60s was Vee-Jay Records. Hooker stayed with the label until 1964. Two of Hooker's best-known hits
from this period, "Dimples" (1956) and "Boom Boom" (1962) had a profound effect on the British blues scene. Oddly, his influence
abroad in the early '60s was stronger than it was in the U.S. where he had returned to a solo acoustic blues style in order
to take advantage of the growing folk-blues revival going on in cities like New York and San Francisco and on many college
campuses.
Hooker continued to record and perform extensively throughout the 1960s; he was at home in either an acoustic
or electric format. He toured England and continental Europe in 1962, and performed at the Newport Folk Festival in 1960 and
1963 and at the Newport Jazz Festival in 1964. He returned to England and tile Continent every year from 1964 to 1969, while
back home in the States he played hip rock clubs like The Scene and Electric Circus in New York as more and more rock fans
picked up on his blues.
Hooker left Detroit and moved to Oakland in 1970; that same year he cut the album Hooker
'n' Heat with blues-rock group Canned Heat and further solidified his standing with rock audiences. Hooker also continued
to make his own records. From the early '70s came Endless Boogie, Never Get Out of These Blues Alive, and Free Beer
and Chicken, to name just some of them. Much of the material on these albums was recycled songs or ideas and boogie rhythms
that did little else except keep stores stocked with new John Lee Hooker vinyl.
By the late 1970s, Hooker seemed destined
to fade into the blues woodwork. His sound had gone stale and interest in the blues was not yet what it would be later in
the 1980s. But Hooker hung on, thanks to the continuous reissue of previously recorded material by labels such as Charly,
GNP Crescendo, Chameleon, and Chess. In 1980 Hooker was inducted into the Blues Foundation's Hall of Fame.
Hooker's
career continued to sag until 1989 when the Chameleon label released The Healer, an album of newly recorded material
produced by Hooker's former guitarist Roy Rogers. The Healer included a guest appearance by longtime Hooker fan Bonnie Raitt, plus other cameos from Carlos Santana, Robert Cray, George Thorogood, and others. To the surprise of Hooker and everyone else, The Healer not only sold better
than any other Hooker album had and earned many enthusiastic reviews, but it also won a Grammy Award for best blues recording.
Suddenly Hooker was hot. In early 1990 he was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Later that year he was honored
at a special tribute concert in New York' s Madison Square Garden that featured Raitt, Joe Cocker, Huey Lewis, Ry Cooder,
Bo Diddley, Mick Fleetwood, Gregg Allman, Al Kooper, Johnny Winter, Willie Dixon, Albert Collins, and others.
Before
year's end, Hooker signed with Point Blank/Charisma Records, and for an encore he and Rogers cut Mr. Lucky, which, like its
predecessor, was stocked with big-name guests (Collins, Cooder, Cray, Winter, Santana, Van Morrison, John Hammond, Jr., Keith
Richards, and others). It, too, registered impressive sales and reviews, although on most tracks Hooker took a backseat to
his admirers or else wasn't able to work up enough steam to get his husky vocals out in front of all the layers of instrumentation.
Hooker currently lives outside of Los Angeles. He continues to record and tour, and, with B.B. King, shares the honor
of being elder statesman of the blues.
Lightning Red and his series on the origins of the modern electric blues, and the techniques and hardware used
by the legends to get their unique sounds.
In this installment I would like to feature the great guitarists who invented and who build upon that elusive musical genre
we call Boogie. Rather than attempt to trace the origins of this hypnotic sound, we will look at those artists responsible
for popularizing the "modern" or "urban," electric form of the Boogie. I hope you enjoy it and please return next time to
read about the great, modern Slide players, their guitars and techniques.
John Lee Hooker
John Lee Hooker nearly single-handedly invented the style of blues guitar that we call "The Boogie." I sincerely wish that
this style of music were as easy for me to describe as it is for me to play. I'll take a stab at it: an easy- rolling repetitive
rhythmic phrase that puts the listener into a slight hypnotic state -- a fat, chugging lick that charges on nearly endlessly.
A continual pulsation, the soul's heartbeat. Well, that's the best I could do.
However, I know that once you've experienced the Boogie it will never be erased from your consciousness. It has a way of
becoming firmly attached, as it did when helping a young John Lee through long hours of pushing a broom at a General Motors
plant near Detroit in the mid 1940's.
But if you're still not sure what I'm talking about, let me provide another, more technical explanation: You are in the
Key of A, in an endlessly repeating series of two measure phrases you'd play six beats on the dominant (or root) chord which
in this case is A. On the seventh beat you'd hit the minor third chord which is C, and you'd hit the fourth interval chord,
D, on the eighth beat. Simple? You'd think so. But it takes a special skill and numerous hours of intense concentration and
practice to master this art form.
The roots of boogie can be heard just below the surface in the songs of a number of early, acoustic blues guitar players
Mississippi Fred McDowell and Bukka White, to name but a few, but it was the young Michigander from Clarksdale, Mississippi
who laid the foundation for this modern, electrified musical genre. Usually tuning to an open G chord (low D, G, D, G, B,
high D), John Lee began pumping his way toward stardom and recorded "Boogie Chillin" in 1948 for Modern Records. His guitar
of preference has always been a thin-line Gibson hollow bodied model, usually his favorite ES-335, a 345 or a similarly designed
Kay model.
A little history ala his booking agency, The Rosebud Agency:
"Born near Clarksdale, Mississippi on August 22, 1917 to a sharecropper family, Hooker's earliest musical influence came
from his stepfather, Will Moore. By the early 1940s, Hooker had moved to Detroit. Among his first recordings 1948, "Boogie
Chillen" became a number-one jukebox hit and his first million-seller. This was soon followed by an even bigger hit with "I'm
In The Mood" and other classic recordings including "Crawling Kingsnake" and "Hobo Blues." Another surge in his career took
place with the release of more than 100 songs on Vee Jay Records during the 1950s and 1960s.
When the young bohemian audiences of the 1960s "discovered" Hooker along with other blues originators, he and various others
made a brief return to folk blues. Young British artists such as the Animals, John Mayall, and the Yardbirds introduced Hooker's
sound to a new and eager audience whose admiration and influence helped build Hooker to superstar status in mid '60s England.
By 1970, he had moved to California and began working with rock musicians, notably Van Morrison and Canned Heat. Canned Heat
modeled their sound after Hooker's boogie and collaborated on several albums and tours.
During the 1970s and much of the 1980s, Hooker toured the U. S. and Europe steadily but grew disenchanted with recording,
though his appearance in The Blues Brothers movie resulted in a heightened profile. Then, in 1989, The Healer was released
to critical acclaim and sales in excess of a million copies. Today, the "King Of The Boogie" is enjoying the most successful
period of his extensive career. In the past seven years, Hooker's influence has contributed to a booming interest in the blues
and, notably, its acceptance by the music industry as a commercially viable entity.
Hooker's career has been a series of highlights and special events since the release of The Healer. In addition to recording
his own albums Mr. Lucky, Boom Boom, Chill Out, and now Don't Look Back for Pointblank, he contributed to recordings by B.
B. King, Branford Marsalis and Van Morrison and portrayed the title role in Pete Townshend's epic, The Iron Man...
John Lee was invited to perform with The Rolling Stones and guest Eric Clapton for their national television broadcast
during The Stones' 1989 Steel Wheels tour. In 1990, many musical guests paid tribute to John Lee Hooker with a performance
at Madison Square garden. Joining him on some or all of these occasions were artists such as Bonnie Raitt, Ry Cooder, Joe
Cocker, Huey Lewis, Carlos Santana, Robert Cray, Mick Fleetwood, Al Kooper, Johnny Winter, John Hammond, Johnnie Johnson,
and the late Albert Collins. Hooker's 1991 induction into the Rock n' Roll Hall Of Fame was fitting for the man who has influenced
countless fans and musicians who have in turn influenced many more. The 'South Bank Show' documentary on John Lee continues
to air in the U. S. and offers an overview of his amazing life from runaway sharecropper's son to a world-famous legend whose
music has been a major influence on modern rock n' roll."
John Lee's style has always been unique, even among other performers of the real deep blues, few of whom remain with us
today. While retaining that foundation, he has simultaneously broken new ground musically and commercially...
When I reflect on the long, illustrious career of Mr. John Lee Hooker, one memory always appears before my mind's eye.
At Clifford Antone's Club on Guadalupe Street in Austin Texas, a solitary bluesman sits above us on the stage while the usually
chaotic, boisterous dance floor is now occupied by mesmerized, polite, quiet music lovers who remain seated like numerous
Buddhas. And as he begins performing, sitting with an ES-335 thin-bodied Gibson in his lap, that hunting, signature voice
floats above the silent crowd. Every word, every breath, every subtle guitar lick dominates the room.
Never have I ever seen this club transformed into such an intense listening experience. Song after song flows through the
evening, and with each note the audience is drawn more tightly into the web spun by this giant of the blues - the main BOOGIEMAN.
The God of boogie guitar. Never have I been touched so deeply by a performance. The band struggles to follow his chord changes,
hangs on his every syllable. He is the MAN.
Spending quality rehearsal time with this deceptively simple style of blues is essential for the beginning or intermediate
guitarist. Although John Lee never bends a string (something I will cover in depth in a subsequent installment) or uses intricate
phrasings, it has always been my experience that those licks or musical stylings that sound so "easy" to play can prove to
be the most difficult. I've often been told that I'm the master of writing things that flow smoothly right by the listener,
but are actually a nightmare for most musicians to grab onto. Maybe those countless hours perfecting this "simple" musical
form is the culprit.
I must say I've heard a number of respected heavy metal or hard rock artists mangle this magical musical form pretty severely.
Perhaps its because they've only captured a vague notion of what the boogie is all about. Or, maybe its because they don't
really respect the blues and haven't put in the time to actually "feel" the music. I don't know, but I do know that if you
want to be a serious blues guitarist, you will study the boogie until your fingers bleed and your brain convulses to the beat
long after the recording has ended. To my mind the boogie is not just a form of the blues. It is Detroit, Chicago and Cincinnati
all rolled into one; the eternal pulsations of the rust-belt foundries and factories that echoes from the past and propels
every bluesman's heart toward an unforeseen future.
singers struggling against disco and the emergence of rap.
