May 23, 2013

Huddie Ledbetter, Annotated Bibliography


                 Huddie Ledbetter, Annotated Bibliography

The following is a list of books and articles that I had consulted whilst writing a Masters Thesis on Leadbelly. The Thesis was completed in 1989, so anything published since that year would not be on this list. That would include "The Life and Legend of Leadbelly." by Charles Wolfe and Kip Lornell, which was published in 1992, and is certainly recommended reading for anyone seriously interested in Leadbelly. Another resource is "The Lead Belly Letter" which is referred to in this blog. It was published by Sean Killeen between 1990 and 1996. I have put the first edition on this blog because I can't find it anywhere else and I know that Sean passed away several years ago. Here's my old bibliography:

Asch, Moses and Alan Lomax.  The Leadbelly Songbook.  New York: Oak,1962.  96 p.
Discography and index of songs, photographs and drawings.
This book contains the lyrics, music, and commentaries to 73 songs, including most of the famous ones: "Irene," "Midnight Special," "Fannin Street," and "Bourgeois Blues."  There are guitar chords supplied and the book is primarily intended for the use of folk singers.  The words are transcribed from 1940's Folkways recordings or from the
private collection of Moses Asch, the owner of Folkways, and the discography refers only to the songs in the book.
For researchers, there are several articles on Ledbetter: a reprint of Frederic Ramsey's "Leadbelly's Legacy," and appreciations by Charles E. Smith, Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Alan Lomax, and Moses Asch, all of whom knew Huddie personally.  There is a blues poem by Sonny Terry, "Best of Friends," and a photograph of Huddie and his wife, Martha.  Also, every page is decorated with a drawing or photograph having to do with black culture.

Brand, Oscar.  The Ballad Mongers.  New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1962. 240 p. Index and selected bibliography.
Folk singer Oscar Brand was born in Canada.  He was attracted to the folk scene in New York in the late 1930's and became friendly with Ledbetter, Lee Hays, Pete Seeger and other leading lights in the folk music revival.  He helped to form People Songs, Inc., a group that published contemporary folk songs and performed at hootenannies, concerts, strikes, and other politically-motivated gatherings.  Brand was folk music coordinator for radio station WNYC in New York (circa 1945), when Huddie was singing on the station.
The book, which is a general overview of folk music in America as it appeared to Brand in the early 1960's, contains remarks and anecdotes which place Huddie in the context of the New York folk scene.  It supplies a small amount of helpful information.

Dixon, R.M.W. and John Godrich.  Blues and Gospel Records 1902-1942.  Harrow, England: Steve Lane, 1963.  765 p.
This is an alphabetical listing, with an index of sidemen who accompanied the listed artists and groups.  The authors try to be exclusive in their interpretation of the genres, blues and gospel, otherwise they might still be compiling.  They have used written records from major recording companies such as Victor, Columbia, Okeh and Paramount, as well as the libraries of collectors.  It seems like a lifetime's work, and the pages are cheaply printed, but the material is invaluable to the blues scholar.  There are many local or regional recordings that are omitted, but it is amazing how much remains, and how useful it is for cross-referencing.
The authors, two Englishmen, call their work part of a sociological study of Negro folk music.  "We have attempted to list every distinctively Negroid folk music record made up to the end of 1942."  The listed records were made mostly by large national companies for an (almost) exclusively black audience.  A few entries by white singers such as Jimmie Davis and Jimmie Rodgers are included because they are clearly blues recordings.

Floyd, Samuel A. Jr. and Marsha J. Reisser.  Black Music in the United States: An Annotated Bibliography.  Millwood, N.Y.: Kraus International, 1983.  234 p. Index.
An excellent research tool itself, this book itemizes research tools for study in concert music, jazz, spirituals, minstrelsy, musical theater, etc.  There are ten blues books listed, three of which are by Paul Oliver.  There is no indexing of Ledbetter, which seems an important omission, though he is mentioned within some of the annotations.  Also mentioned are holdings such as the New Orleans jazz club collection at the Louisiana State Museum, anthologies of printed music, and record collections in anthology form.

Garvin, Richard M. and Edmond G. Addeo.  The Midnight Special.  New York: Bernard Geis, 1971.
Subtitled "The Legend of Leadbelly," this is an acknowledged work of fiction.  The authors have taken two John Lomax books, Negro Folk Songs as Sung by Lead Belly and Adventures of a Ballad Hunter, created a composite character from the various prison inmates therein, and called him Leadbelly.
They have expanded one minor Lomax character, a friendly prison warden, to give him a major role in Leadbelly's life.  Were it not for the note at the beginning which claims enormous amounts of research into the subject, and the overall impression that they are actually telling the story of Leadbelly, this book could be ignored.  As it is, however, the book deserves to be vilified for its misleading information, poor writing, and lurid sensationalism.  

Harris, Sheldon.  Blues Who's Who.  New Rochell, N.Y.: Arlington House, 1979.  775 p. Illustrated with photographs.
This is an alphabetical listing of major blues performers, many of whom are also pictured.  There are two columns of information per page.  Ledbetter is given a half-page photograph and two-and-a-half pages of print, which testifies to his considerable importance.  Information is compact: abbreviations are used extensively, e.g., "served as leadman for Blind Lemon Jefferson on streets of West Dallas, TX, c.1912;" and,"film bio LEADBELLY released 1976."  Career highlights are listed; also, recording sessions, club dates, songs, and instruments played.  There is a brief bibliography and a list of references used by the author. 
The information is necessarily brief and, by itself, could be misleading.  For instance, Huddie's trip to the Coast: "worked local folk clubs/concert dates/private parties, Hollywood, CA, area, 1944-6; appeared on own show, KRE-radio, Los Angeles, CA, 1945."  This makes it sound like a busy and successful trip, which it was not.
Other North Louisiana performers, Jesse and Ramblin' Thomas, and Oscar Woods, are mentioned briefly in the Who's Who, but the author has not done a lot of deep research. An update is needed.

Kinkle, Roger D.  The Complete Encyclopedia of Popular Music and Jazz.  New Rochelle, N.Y.:  Arlington House, 1974.
This other Arlington House publication contains a brief Ledbetter  biography which sticks to the facts and does not wander into mythology.  For example, it reports that he was jailed three times for violent crimes, which is true.  "Club appearances" and "belated recognition" are mentioned, but there are no "extensive concert tours" which make it sound as though he achieved financial success in his lifetime (which he did not).  There is an abbreviated discography.  This is useful for someone with a passing interest.

Leadbitter, Mike and Neil Slaven.  Blues Records, 1943-1966.  London: Hanover, 1968.  425 p.
This book takes up (as is indicated by the dates) where Blues and Gospel Records, 1902-1942 leaves off.  A more professionally printed book that its predecessor, it is a listing of blues performers only.  It also excludes non-blues material by the listed performers.  Thus, not everything Ledbetter recorded after 1942 is included.  "As this artist has recorded in the true folk vein, only sessions thought to be of interest to blues collectors are listed."
Written by two Englishmen, this book is a most valuable resource for the serious blues scholar.  There is an added complexity for the compilers of this later work: until 1942, all records were 78 r.p.m. singles; after 1948, the long-playing record was introduced; and in the early 1950's, the 45 r.pm.  Perhaps that is why they left out gospel records.

Lee, Hector.  "Notes and Queries: Some Notes on Lead Belly."  Journal of American Folklore  76 (1963): 135-140.
This article grew out of a 1946 meeting between the Ledbetters and the author.  Lee was the impresario for a concert which Huddie gave at a hall in Salt Lake City.  He arranged lodging, paid the bills, organized the publicity, and gave a party for Huddie and Martha at his house after the concert.  There was also a children's concert, which was more successful than that given to the general public.  However, the house party was the most successful of all because Huddie was more relaxed.  Lee made some recordings on a wire recorder and transcribed some of the performances from the party.  A recording of "Frankie and Albert" resulted in an earlier article for the îJournal of American Folklore,ï but Lee felt he needed to share these "notes" with potential biographers.  
Lomax, John A. and Alan Lomax.  American Ballads and Folk Songs.  New York: Macmillan, 1934.  625 p. Index, bibliography.
There are 271 songs divided into twenty-five chapters with such headings as, "Negro Bad Men," "The Blues," "Minstrel Types," "Songs of Childhood," "Cowboy Songs," "White Spirituals," and "Negro Spirituals."  The book includes many songs which were gathered during the summer of 1933, several of them from Lead Belly ("Bill Martin and Ella Speed," "Julie Ann Johnson," and "When I Was a Cowboy").  It was published in October, 1934, and contains the first mention of Lead Belly, coming just two months before his introduction to the Modern Language Association and to the New York media.  In a very real sense, the Lomaxes were on tour with Lead Belly, publicizing their book.
Some of the songs are taken from the earlier John Lomax book, îCowboy Songsï (1910), some were gathered from the plantations, levees, and prison farms in the South, and some were culled from other published sources.  The Lomax collections have become "musts" for every folk singer in America.

Lomax, John A.  Adventures of a Ballad Hunter.  New York: Macmillan, 1947.  302 p.
This is the closest thing to an autobiography of John Lomax, although there are long periods of his life omitted.  He concentrates, as the title suggests, on his ballad hunting expeditions which took place in the early 1900's and again in the 1930's.  He devotes the first two chapters to his boyhood and his growing interest in folk song scholarship.
He was born in Mississippi shortly after the Civil War, but his family soon moved to Texas and he was raised on the Old Chisolm Trail.  It was the heyday of the American cowboy and of the cattle drives, so Lomax came by his interest in cowboy songs honestly.  He had already gathered quite a stack of them before he headed west with a recording machine in 1908.  He added such tunes as "Home on the Range" and "Old Paint" and put together the book, Cowboy Songs, which was published by Macmillan in 1910.
In 1933 he and his teenaged son Alan headed south with another recording machine and the rest of the book deals with Lomax's adventures during the rest of the 1930's.  His meeting and subsequent travels with Huddie Ledbetter are mentioned, but for a thorough treatment one must read Negro Folk Songs as Sung By Lead Belly.  Finding folk songs was important to John Lomax, but he gives the impression of being ill-at-ease with people.  This may account for his misunderstandings with Ledbetter.

Lomax, John A.  Negro Folk Songs as Sung by Lead Belly.  New York: Macmillan, 1936. 242 p.
This is essential reading for any student of Ledbetter, if only to see from whence everybody else's information derives.  The book has become a primary, which is not to say reliable, source.  It is divided into two parts, a biography of Ledbetter and a compilation of 49 of his songs. 
Part I, "The Worldly Nigger,"  is 65 pages and ends with Huddie's return to Shreveport in March, 1935.  Part II, by far the greater space, is devoted to "The Sinful Songs."  These are Negro songs which are not spirituals: primarily blues, ballads, dance and work songs.
The biography is Ledbetter's own story, which Lomax takes rather too literally, especially when he finds it sensational and seamy.  Ledbetter later discounted the book, saying "Lomax did not write nothing like I told him." Some of the truth may lie somewhere between Lomax and Ledbetter, and it is interesting to speculate where that might be.  Many blues scholars and folklorists have accepted Lomax's book as being factual and this has led to many misconceptions about Ledbetter and his life.  The book should be seen as folklore and folk songs.
The music has been transcribed by Columbia University musicologist Dr. George Herzog; he offers an introduction which explains the relationship between his notation and the unwritten language of black folk music.

Oliver, Paul.  "Blind Lemon Jefferson."  Jazz Review 2 (1959): 9-12.
           Jefferson emerges as a much more mysterious character than Ledbetter. Oliver places the singer's birth in 1883, while other sources have made it 1897.  This has quite a bearing on the life of Ledbetter: could the two have played together for several years in Dallas, or was it more likely one or two years as the later birthdate would suggest?  Was Jefferson the teacher and Ledbetter the novice, were they on equal terms, or was Jefferson just a youth?  These questions have not been satisfactorily answered.  Other blues singers (Josh White and Lightning Hopkins) claimed to have helped the Blind singer move about and it almost seems there may have been more than one "Blind Lemon Jefferson."
           Oliver gets his information from Leadbelly's Last Sessions, which is Ledbetter talking, and some of it agrees with Lomax, which is also Ledbetter talking.  So much blues history seems to rely on personal histories, and thus there is a lot of conflicting information.  Paul Oliver, who has been highly regarded as a blues scholar, is too quick to accept hearsay.  I don't know the truth of the Blind Lemon Jefferson story, but I am willing to say that Oliver does not know it, either.

Oliver, Paul.  The Story of the Blues.  New York: Chilton, 1969.  176 p. Index, and lists of records, books, and periodicals. Many photographs.
Until a better one comes along, this book is the best light introduction to the history of the blues in the United States, and it is written by an Englishman.  This is a coffee table book, full of photographs and clear concise remarks about the singers and the scene.  Having taken Oliver to task for his sloppy scholarship in the "Blind Lemon Jefferson" article, I can maintain consistency by saying that his approach is more journalistic than scholastic.  There may be a lot of half-truths in The Story of the Blues, but it is better than no truth at all.

Price, Carter.  "Leadbelly."  Negro Digest  11 (1962): 20-29.
Because this article is in a black journal, I thought it might offer new information on the life of Ledbetter, but I was mistaken.  The information comes from Lomax and from Leadbelly's Last Sessions.  However, there was one nice insight about the last years of Ledbetter's life: "What he did, during those last 15 years, was to get all of his music down.  With calm, cheerful insistence, he somehow managed to hand over most of his vast inheritance of folk music from the past" (28).

Ramsey, Frederic Jr.  "Leadbelly: A Great Long Time."  Sing Out  15.2 (1965): 6-24.  Several photographs and songs.
Ramsey recorded Leadbelly's Last Sessions at his apartment in New York over a period of three evenings.  They were sessions like none before, because tape recorders had just come into general use, and this technological development changed the face of the recording industry.  The Ramsey sessions gave us a Ledbetter that had only been talked about previously — the relaxed, spontaneous performer who spoke at length about his music.  
Unfortunately, there is not a great deal of new biographical material, and it may be that, as Ramsey has reported, Ledbetter "was content to forget."  Like Lomax and Russell, Ramsey is an important piece in the jigsaw puzzle that is the life of Huddie Ledbetter; taken together, they move us toward the truth, but individually, they are misleading.  Ramsey's central theory about Ledbetter and racism, for instance, collapses when we know about the 1930 incident that sent Huddie to Angola.  "Of the past, he was blank," wrote Ramsey, and perhaps there was no way to change that in 1948.

Russell, Ross.  "Illuminating the Leadbelly Legend."  Down Beat  37 (1970): 12-14, 33.
Russell planned to write a biography of Huddie, but his project was cut short by the death of his subject.  This article, based on interview notes from 1946, but not published until twenty-five years later, is nonetheless very helpful.  It gives an idea of Huddie's life in Los Angeles, where Russell owned a record store during the mid-'forties.  There is even new information about Ledbetter's early years, though Russell assumed that he was merely filling in the blanks left by John Lomax.  It would have been more productive had he started from the beginning, and ignored Lomax.  Russell was surprised by Huddie's death; he had thought him in excellent condition in 1946.
Russell was a jazz writer — he was simultaneosly interviewing the saxophonist Charlie Parker — and his opinions were somewhat affected by musical conventions with which Ledbetter was not concerned (such as keeping strict time), but he managed to be broadminded in his appreciation of the folk singer.  New light is shed on the character of Ledbetter in this article.  Huddie apparently enjoyed being at Russell's store, and once surprised the author by sitting down at the piano and thumping out some barrelhouse blues and boogie-woogie.  Russell had no idea that Huddie could even play the piano until then.

Sackheim, Eric.  The Blues Line.  New York: Schirmer, 1969.
In this book, blues lyrics are presented in poetic form.  Sackheim has listened to hundreds of blues recordings, from the early 1920's to the 1950's, taken down the lyrics, and printed them in a form which accurately represents the feeling of the songs.  With use of capitalization, punctuation,  and layout, Sackheim has managed to make the blues live on the printed page.  The book is mostly divided into chapters representing regions of the United States, though the first chapter deals with the classic female singers  of the 1920's — Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, et al.  Huddie Ledbetter is represented by several songs and a line drawing on the cover.

Skowronski, JoAnn.  Black Music in America.  Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow, 1981. 
This is a bibliography of selected musicians which contains three and a half pages on Ledbetter.  Many of the articles referred to are record reviews in such periodicals as Jazz Journal, High Fidelity, Rolling Stone, and Down Beat.  Some foreign journals are referred to — there are a lot of articles in the English weekly, Melody Maker, which speaks of a great interest in Ledbetter in that country.  A certain amount of prior experience can direct the researcher to the more substantive articles: knowledge of authors and periodicals, length of articles, and cross-references are helpful, so this is not the best place to start.  Some books are mentioned, also.


Southern, Eileen.  Bibliographical Dictionary of Afro-American and African Musicians.  Westport, Ct.: Greenwood, 1982.
A necessarily brief, one column biography of Ledbetter contains two verifiable errors.  The date of his first Library of Congress recordings is given as 1932 instead of 1933, and the recording expedition is credited to the then 17-year-old Alan Lomax, instead of to his father, John A. Lomax, who is not mentioned.  As an introduction to the life of Ledbetter, the article must be considered inadequate; it merely repeats existing myths and says nothing new. 

Stuck, Goodloe.  Shreveport Madam.  Baton Rouge: Moran, 1981.
Local (Shreveport) historian and newspaper columnist Stuck presents the story of Annie McCune who ran a bawdy house in St. Paul's Bottoms during the days of legal prostitution, 1903-1917.  Stuck's technique was to interview as many survivors of the era as he could find and stitch together their memoirs into some sort of biography.  To a certain extent, he also consulted contemporary records and newspaper reports, but the whole enterprise has an aura of unreality about it.  Stuck never really identifies any of his informants and though he is writing about an earthy piece of history, he never soils his hands.  It is difficult to place Huddie Ledbetter in Stuck's sanitized environment. 
  




March 22, 2012

Jesse (Baby Face) Thomas speaks


JESSE (Baby Face) THOMAS (1911-1995) at home in Shreveport, LA.
with Monty and Marsha — 1989? 
Questions, etc., in [brackets] 

[We were talking about working on the farm, in the fields, and how you raised all your own food and that sort of thing.]
We stayed in the country in the middle of a big field with trees all around.
Jesse at home 

[Did your family own the land?]
No. He (father) was working for somebody else. It wasn’t a big plantation farm like it was in other places, like on Red River, places in Georgia, Mississippi where you have a big plantation or a whole lot of families on it. Just one family, small farm. 

[Was the land owned by white people?]
Yes. It was mostly white people. 

[Which of your brothers played music?]
All of them except the baby boy — there was one younger than me. That was the baby boy and he didn’t play. And the girls didn’t play. Two of them could play a few sounds on the guitar, but they didn’t fool with it because they didn’t hardly like girls to do things like that in the country in those days. The boys could do it, and the boys worked outside in the fields, in the woods, in construction, anything outside. The girls did mostly the home work, like milking cows, cooking, washing. They would also work in the field too, but they had to do home work, you know, work around the house, but not he guitar. They had a tradition, like, some of whatever you might call it, cause if you wasn’t playing gospel song, they wasn’t particular about you playing music too much. We had to slip around mostly when we were learning. We had to work, we couldn’t sit around playing music. Now on the weekend, if we didn’t go to church Sunday, well, we’d get out into the yard by ourself and practice on the guitar. But if you wanted to just take it up, be a musician, some of them say, “The devil gonna get you,” and things like that.

[The devil gonna get you for playing music?]
Yeah, that’s what we had to come up, under that kind of stuff. We had to slip around. I didn’t ever think there would be any such thing as that you could make a living playing music. We didn’t know that. Until I left home. First left Logansport and went to Texas to live with my older brother and go to school one year and I came back I was 15 years old and that’s when I ran away from home and came to Shreveport. See we went to Logansport one Saturday, shopping, and I heard an electric piano (player piano) playing, and it was a newer tune, a newer music from what we had been hearing. See we had been playing the same thing so long we were just about fed up with it, listening to it, didn’t care for it, and I heard a piano playing a new song, and it was playing a melody and harmony and bass patterns, and it sounded so good and so much better than what we had been hearing. That’s when I wanted to be a piano player. So, I started practicing on different people(‘s) pianos, trying to play piano, just fell in love with the piano, started trying to be a piano-player, but I was never able to own one so I got back on guitar. I started back playing guitar but I did take piano lessons when I was in Fort Worth but that was when I was about 19 years old, started taking piano lessons and I read music that way.

[Was it your older brother who gave you the idea you could make a living at music?]
Well in 1926, Willard — you know the one called Ramblin’ Thomas? — he left home. He had learned how to play with the slide-type and he went off and made money playing and like that, and came back the next year and that did give me an idea that you could  make money playing, but I still wanted to be a piano player, and when I came to Shreveport (1926) I thought about, you know, trying to play for money, but I didn’t know enough about it, didn’t have enough experience, and I couldn’t sing too good, and I didn’t know any songs, but that got me started. When I was in West Texas working on these farms out there, close to Dallas where we were and I could go to Dallas, then I saw the professional guitar players making a living, making records, and then my brother got on record after he went out there. He made — for Paramount Records when he made a session they would pay $200 for a session. That was a lot of money in those days. And that really did make me wanna get on record. Then I saw Lonnie Johnson,  guitar player, and he was famous at that time, had a lot of hit records out , and that really encouraged me to take up guitar and I copied some of his stuff (“Careless Love”). And I was starting to make a little money. I would work some and play some, and it wasn’t very long, a couple of years later, I started playing altogether. There wasn’t so many songs out there then. You didn’t have to play so many songs like you did now.

[Did you write any songs back then?]
Well I didn’t “write” em but I just made up songs like when I got on record in 1929 — “Blue Goose Blues”- I just made that up, you know, and went in the studio, and . . . .
[Blue Goose?]
That’s a little place here in Shreveport, or a little area they used to call the Blue Goose, it’s down on Snow Street and Pickett. You remember where the Union railway station used to be? You wasn’t here when those trains was coming in.

[No.]
Well anyways a part of town used to be -

[I know where Snow Street is, sure. Over near the I-20.]
Well that was just the name of that area. Like Mooretown, South Highland, Blue Goose, that’s what it was. So I just thought of that coz that’s where I stayed when I first came here — Cedar Grove, Blue Goose, and I just, made up some words, put it on record.
Blue Goose is the area up there where the old baseball stadium is, up through there?
No. Where the Union railroad station was, along there somewhere. Union Station used to be on Louisiana, going down, just after you runs into Highland, no, after you runs into Howell.

[Oh, I know where you’re talking about, OK. You’re talking about down there — there’s still the station. The station’s still there, right?]
I think they tore it down.

[What’s the one they turned into an arts center, or —]
Is that what it is? Well, it might be there. On Louisiana? 
[Yes.]
Well, see on up a little piece from there was a little area where all those shotgun houses is in there.

[And that’s Blue Goose?]
Uh-huh. Course you wouldn’t have the I-20 there then, too. Pickett Street runs into it. Snow Street too, I think, runs on down, Howell Street goes on up, along down in there.

[That’s a good song.]
Think so? (Laughs) I didn’t even know what I was talking about. (Laughter) I guess that sometime makes the song. I’ll sure play it if you think it’d do me anything. I would do that. I got some different words. Have to remember the words. 
(Jesse picks up his acoustic guitar and plays “Blue Goose Blues” instrumentally and then sings:)


“I’m going down to old Blue Goose, got no time to lose.” (Finishes and laughs.)
Got to play it to get the words down. The music still sounds alright.
[Is that your tune, too, out of your head?]  
That’s right. I don’t know how I made that, I think I saw some old man and he was real good on the guitar, on the chords, and he didn’t sing that good, just play something like that, and I copied some of that and put the words to it. And Blind Blake used to have something kinda in that style. (Plays) He would play in that style and I thought he was a real good guitar player. Nice chords. Played finger style. (Plays some more) 
Family
It was 13 born in our family but it was 9 of us that were raised. 4 of the kids died when they were babies, and that left 6 boys and 3 girls. I was the twelfth child. Had one more younger than me. As they got grown they would leave. The older one, he got married - he was married when I was born (1911), rest of them, they got grown, they would leave if they had to. The older brothers would always keep an old guitar round the house.
[There was more than one guitar around the house?]
Sometimes, but there would always be one, some of the older brothers would have one.
[Tell me about your (brother) — Ramblin’ Thomas — what happened to him?]
Well, after he made records he stayed in Dallas a while, he went to Houston, went, see they used to when they made records on Paramount they would send people to Chicago, and he went on his own to Chicago and stayed awhile. Then he left Chicago and went to Memphis, Memphis, Tennessee, and that’s where he got sick and died. In 1937 he died in Memphis. 
[So you weren’t with him? What’d he get sick of, do you know?]
Well he used to — fast life, I think, was his problem.
[He was a few years older than you. What, ten years?]
Nine years. That could’ve been it. He drank a lot.
[He played slide guitar, didn’t he?] 
Yeah, with the bottle, you know, some of them uses that little (bottle neck on a finger.)  And he mostly played that. He did some finger-picking also, but he mostly played slide.
[With the guitar flat?] 
Yes, he would hold it flat across his lap. Most guitar players in those days, they played by themselves and sang, coz we didn’t know music in a way to play in groups and how to keep time, so we didn’t have any special tempo or time. Most guitar players played by themselves. 
[Did you play with him ever? On a record, or —] 
Not very much, and not on record. It was so much different than what I played. We played parties together, things like that, but we didn’t play too much together because I was studying music, and keeping up with the songs coming out, and he was just playing his regular tunes that he recorded. I played different things. Type of things he played, he played blues and I was trying to play a variety type of music.
[He must have had quite a following for a while there.]
He did. When he first started out, and when he first got on record, he was hot, I would say, he was hot at that time. Records sold good — course he used — he was his whole orchestra on those records — I believe if he had kinda straightened up and wrote some new tunes, and been more businesslike, I believe he could have made it big. But he got to drinking so heavily. He had a lot of fans and a lot of girlfriends, and he just went down. I used to tell him, I said, I would slow down, get you a light job, you know, work some, you know, when you wasn’t making the records, write some new songs. They was going so good, and enjoying so the way he was going and it ran out. Then he got sick. I tried to go see him when he was in Memphis but I got to Pine Bluff, and stayed there two-three weeks, playing around there in Arkansas and I thought he had moved away so I didn’t go on into Memphis. I never did see him.
[How did you find out he’d died?]
Well the people he were living with, they wrote to my parents and told them about it. Said that he’d started home, tried to come home, but he was too sick to come home,
Traveling.     
Lot of it was hitch-hiking, I didn’t have any trouble catching rides, you know,around to different places. You had the acoustic box and the driver would see it and if they’d hear  you playing, they’d just pick you up, give you a ride. “Where are you going, where do you wanna go?” Sometimes they’d pay you, give you a little money to play for them while they were driving in the car. One man would buy me food, give me a little money, you’d play, sometimes they’d have drinks, buy you drinks. 
I didn’t have a bit of trouble catching rides, but a lot of times I rode the bus. Greyhound bus. And when I’d get on the bus I’d play music on the bus, they’d pay me. It went on like that for a while. Then jukeboxes came in.
[Did you ever have anything set up? Like if you went to Pine Bluff did you ever have a job to go to or did you just go there and start to play?] 
That’s the way it was, I’d just go there.
[You didn’t have any tours set up?]
No (laughs) I didn’t even know what that was. I was touring the country, but I didn’t know it. Just going from place to place.
[What about Willard? (Ramblin' Thomas) Did they arrange anything for him?]
No, but he didn’t go from town to town as much as I did, he would get in a city and stay there. If he went to Chicago, he’d stay there. When I was in Fort Worth, he stayed there. In Memphis he stayed, but I would go from town to town. Like if I were in Houston I’d get on the road going to San Antone and stop at every town along that route. Coz I was hitch-hiking I couldn’t buy a ticket all the way to San Antone I would go as far as I could that day and if people see you’re going to be in town they give you work to do and I’d play a day or so there. But one day, you get up the next morning and you’re back on the highway. You stop at a little town the same thing. 
[That’d be a neat thing to do.] 
Don’t try that type of traveling now; it was alright back in them days, but people are different now, they didn’t mind giving you a ride back then. I remember one time I was going to San Antone, I think it was in Gonzales, Texas, one Saturday, Saturday night. I played around there all day and a group of people wanted me to stay there, a bunch of girls, they asked the boys whether they pay me a little something, (mimics young girl’s voice) “You’re gonna stay, you gonna play for our party, you play for our party,” but I didn’t know that type of business, you know, staying and playing for parties, work a town when it was, I stayed that night, got up early next morning, but I forgot all about that party —  I didn’t know a thing about business and I wasn’t trying to make money on the road, I was just trying to get from one place to another.
Recording.1929.
I went to San Antone because I heard they was making records. A friend of mine told me that the Okeh Record Company was in San Antone recording people — the companies used to come down South and make records with those portable machines, carry em back, press em — and I got on the highway and hitch-hiked to get on record, but I got there too late. They were finishing up when I got there and I missed getting on record. They had a lot of people they had put on record. One of the guys that I met there was Little Hat Jones and a band that recorded was Boots and his Buddies. So I missed the recording session. The reason I wouldn’t stop in those towns where I could’ve got a job playing was because I wanted to get to San Antone before the record people left town. I didn’t get on in San Antone and they said this same company gonna be making records in Dallas, Texas, week after next. And I got back on the road again, going back to Houston, I was staying in Houston, going back to Houston to get my suitcase and clothes. Then I hitchhiked to Dallas to try to get on again. And I went up to audition, they were recording in some hotel there in Dallas and that’s when I met Forty-Nine, this guy that put me in with the Victor Company. He was up there among those people that was recording for Okeh, and he heard me playing round and I had heard of him before when I was in Dallas before, and I met him again at that session and he told me, he said, “Victor going to be coming to Dallas next, and you can get on record with me and Bessie Tucker.” Well, I wanted to go to Kansas City — lot of things happening in Kansas City — so I got as far as Oklahoma City and I stayed there for a while and I got in touch with Forty-Nine, told him I was in Oklahoma City and when the Victor Company came he had em sent me a ticket and I went back. And that was in 1929 and I got on the Victor record. 
[That’s when you went back to Dallas, from Oklahoma City?]
Yeah and that’s when I made it (onto record).
[How’d they get in touch with you?]
They sent a telegram when they sent for me, a telegram and a ticket.
[Did they send a bus ticket?]
Railroad ticket. Trains. There was more trains traveling then, passenger trains. More than buses. 
[So you came down to Dallas by the train. What happened after that?]
And then we recorded for RCA Victor and I played some on Bessie Tucker’s records and I went back to Oklahoma City after that. 
[Can you describe what it was like at the recording session? How many people were there and how you got to record your own tunes?]
It wasn’t too many people there when we were recording. I know they had a microphone for me to play and sing through, one mic, and they were in another room recording, but it wasn’t a big studio like they have now, all those tracks. I don’t know what kind of equipment they really had but I know it wasn’t big like studios we have now. But I was in one room with the microphone singing and playing, and they would have been in another room, recording. And it wasn’t tape. You probably know more about what they were using in those days and what the master would be on, and they would take that back to New Jersey, or wherever their factory was and press the records.
Ralph Peer
[Do you remember the man who was in charge of the session?]
His name was Ralph Peer. He was with RCA records at that time.  Ralph Peer. [Did you talk to him very much?]
No. They just told him about me and he listened to me play and he put me on record and give me a contract and paid us for the session. No he didn’t talk too much.
[What year was that?]
That was in the year 1929. I was 18 years old at the time. Other Musicians.
[Who else were they recording at that time?]
In the studio when I recorded was a lady named Bessie Tucker. [pictured below] She was singing blues. And a piano player named — we called Forty-Nine — and on the record that she made she also had a bass player. It wasn’t a big bass fiddle, wasn’t a bass guitar, it was a bass horn that they used on there and I don’t know whether she had a drum or not, seemed like she had a couple of more guys playing on her record and I also played the guitar.
Bessie Tucker
[Was she pretty popular at the time?]
Yeah. She had made records before and they were selling pretty good. 
[She played mostly around Dallas, right?]
Yeah. She did some touring. I think they went to Denver and a few places around and in the country and put on shows.
[She travel with Forty-Nine?]
Yeah, they traveled together.
[Were they recording black musicians and white, like country and big bands and everybody, or were they just really interested in black musicians at that time?]
At that particular session that they were doing on us, that were just for blues, but he would have other sessions for — Jimmie Rodgers was there in the studio at the time that I recorded, but I don’t know whether he recorded after we left or what, but I don’t remember him making any recordings while we were there, but he probably recorded after we left.
[Were you there all day?]
Yeah - a couple of days.
[Were you familiar with Jimmie Rodgers at the time or was he somebody that you’d not heard of?]
I was familiar with his music 'cause I’d heard a lot of his records. He was real popular for the type of music he was playing. He was doing a lot of yodeling and he was the first one I heard doing that type of thing. Yodeling and playing that type of music.
[And you said you saw Lonnie Johnson while you were in Dallas. What was that like?]
When I first came to Dallas I saw Lonnie Johnson. He was at the theater doing a vaudeville show, playing popular music and blues, songs like “My Blue Heaven” and “So Tired” and what popular songs was out at that time. They didn’t come out fast like they coming out now, they’d have about two or three new songs would come out in a year’s time. And I saw how famous he was and making money and had clothes and that started me to wanna be on record too and make money. 
[What kind of money were you getting to be on a record back then?]
Paramount Records paid $200 for a session at that time and I guess there were others might have paid it up until the time that I got on record. The business had fallen off and the Depression was coming and I think we made about $50 a session or something like that. $25 a song, and like that, for the Victor recording. Paramount also paid 3 to 5 cent royalties. They made money on a record in those days. $200 a session was also like we get now, they almost paid as much then for a session as they do now. Now different artists get different advance for it.
[After you recorded in Dallas, what then?] 
I went back to Oklahoma City trying to get to Kansas City, and I went back out on the farm in Altus, Oklahoma, picking cotton, (this would be November 1929, Stock Market crashed in October) and that was when I missed them —
[Victor?]
Yeah, they came back that fall, that was in the summer when I made the records, I think about July, but they came back about October, November, but they couldn’t find me — I was out there (in Oklahoma) and nobody knew where I was. I never did record for them again. But if you get on record in those days, you could make money. 
[Was there a time when you felt like you were living high, you were like a well-paid musician?]
No I never did really reach that stage at that time. It was pretty rough for me. I would make a little money here and there, and have fun here and there, but I never did really feel independent with a steady income because it wasn’t regular, whatever I was doing it didn’t bring in a regular income.
[Could you count on people to take you home and feed you, put you up for the night, that sort of thing?]
Yeah, in some cases if I go to a strange town and I didn’t know anybody, people hear me play, people were real nice about things like that, they say, “Where you from? Where you stay? You got you a room?”  The people would accommodate me. 
[You talk about going to San Antonio, Fort Worth — like, how about racially? Like  you got Spanish people —]
When I first got to San Antonio, I had never seen no Mexican people before, and I didn’t know where I was, but they look just like other people, you know, they say, “Come on pardner, can you play the guitar?” and I started playing around a bunch of them, and one guy says, “Play me some blues, I like the blues,” and I played what I knew, and they gave me a little money, and I told them I didn’t know where I was, I was lost, and one said, “Come on pardner, I’ll show you where the colored people is,” and he walked with me all the way back, across town, wherever it was over in the black area. And that was that. And the same with the other towns. Sometimes I get into town, didn’t know where the colored folks were, met somebody, “What part of town you come from?” But like if I get into town on a Saturday, where the town be just full of everybody, you meet a colored boy, “Oh you just come into town, where you stay? Man you stay up at our house. Come down here to Miss So-and-So’s Cafe.” They’d give you a place to stay, I didn’t have a bit of trouble getting a place to stay, and food, stuff like that, but I couldn’t make no money. Coz there wasn’t too much money in circulation, and that was bad. But I was touring, just like an artist touring and making one night stands. But I didn’t even know that. I didn’t even know that was a part of the business. If I’d kept that up, and known what I was doing and had almost a business way, could’ve had something like a manager or booking agent I would’ve made out pretty good with somebody advertising me, telling the people that I was playing what was on the record, which was what those stars were doing, could’ve made a little crowd and made some little dances and parties in those towns. They really did like what I was doing, were kinda wild for music in those days, they really did enjoy it and they would make me welcome, and they wasn’t too used to all types of music like it is now, you know, radio, TV, stereo and all that, television, movies. (This was before the internet.)   
Material?
We get it from other people, what we hear other musicians doing, what we see them doing, we would just copy some of it and play it. Some of the musicians would make up little songs of their own, but we mostly played what we see other people playing  because the music was quite different and we would mostly play among ourselves and have fun. We wasn’t trying to be too much different because we wasn’t thinking about making a living at the music — it wasn’t too many guitar players making money. We would mostly play for fun, because we had talent and because we could play. When we get together we would just play and have a good time. Until we did start to make a little money and started getting on records, we played mostly free. Until that happened. And there wasn’t no such thing as a person, when he’d start picking a guitar or playing music, they wasn’t thinking bout Big Times, 'cause there wasn’t too much of that anyway.
[But you did go out of your way to get recorded, didn’t you?]
Oh yeah, after I went to Dallas and saw famous guys like Lonnie Johnson and Blind Lemon Jefferson making money, then I got interested in making money. Up until then I didn’t know you could make a living playing music. And that’s when I started out on the road and went to traveling, going from place to place. And then I went to playing for money here and there, but if you could if I didn’t have a room, didn’t have any money when I came, I say, “No. I just got in town.” I would be trying to play, They would say, “C’mon with me, you can stay up where I’m going to, let em hear you play, they’ll get you a room, you can stay with me.”  Then I always would work on the side, if I could get a job. In those days, jobs were pretty scarce, too, and a lot of work wasn’t by machinery or driving cars like now, the work was harder, kinda hard work and some of it I couldn’t even do, like construction work. I couldn’t do it because it was mostly manual labor and hand work and heavy lifting and stuff like that. (Jesse is a small man, not meant for heavy labor.)
California.
So I played around, still played and got a little group and we started traveling west and went to West Texas and on into Arizona, finally wind up in California.
[So you went out to California with a group?]
Yes.
[And played as you went?] 
Oh yeah. 
[Then you ended up in Los Angeles? Is that where you went to first in California?] 
Well, when we first got to California we stopped in those little towns fore we got to Los Angeles — El Centro and Indio and places like that, and we mostly stayed in Los Angeles when I first went there, then after that I went on traveling through the state of California, different towns.
[When you first got there you were actually a band, and you stayed together as a band there? How many pieces in the band and what were they?]
It was first four of us and then one of the guys left and we had a trio then, there were three of us. I worked a long time with the trio. Two guitars and something like a snare drum, mostly singing and playing.
[Who were the people you played with?]
Oh, Carl Douglas was one — the guitar player — Preston Hass was the drummer and we all sang.
[Where did they come from?]
They were from Texas. I got with them in Texas. You played the latest tunes, we worked where we could.
[Did you ever have a chance to get into movies?]
That was quite a few years later when they were making the movie “Gone With the Wind.” We were supposed to be in that movie and when we went down to the studio they asked for our union card and since we was not in the union they turned us around at the gate.
[That was the closest you came?]
Yes. One time we were supposed to make a movie with  Rochester (Eddie Anderson)  — “A Man About Town,” (1939, starring Jack Benny) I think was the name of that movie — we didn’t get to get in that either. 
[Was that because of the union again?]
No, they didn’t say what it was. They didn’t call us back.
[Are you talking about the band?]
It was all of us in the band, but I don’t know whether we was going to be playing music or what we were going to be doing. We didn’t know — they didn’t explain to us what we would be doing. They were using a lot of people for the movies at that time, they getting ready to make a movie, so different people told us that we might have a chance to get in before they sent for me.
[There were several years between the time you recorded and the time you went to California. How did you make a living during those five or six years?] 
I would still play around where if I could get a little money.  
[You recorded in 1929, but the next time was years later — what? Twenty years later? Where was that?]
That was after I went to California and got on small labels in LA like Swing Time records, later I got on Modern records, Modern label, and a small label that was owned by Roy Milton and later I went to Specialty records, and then I think it was around in the ‘50s — 40’s, late ‘40’s, early ‘50’s, I made a lot of records in Los Angeles.  Also, I had a label of my own called Club records. I made some songs on my own label and didn’t have any distributors or connections and they didn’t do anything.
[Where was Club?]
That was in California. See I had moved around playing celebrations and rodeos and things in California and I stayed in a town called Salinas ‘bout, oh I’d say about seven years. But I would go to L.A. and San Francisco the whole time I was in California, wherever I was playing, it didn’t matter what town I was in I would usually visit the cities. 
[So Club records was when you were in Salinas?]
Yeah. I made two songs on my own label, but they didn’t do anything.
[You met some famous people in California, too, didn’t you?]
Oh yeah, in Los Angeles I met Nat 'King' Cole (1919-65), T-Bone Walker (1910-75), Les Haight, and comedians like Mantan Moreland (1902-73) and Rochester — used to be with Jack Benny — he had a night club, and we played for him in his night club and different groups around there — Oscar Moore (1916-81), he played guitar with Nat 'King' Cole. Met quite a few musicians there in Los Angeles.
[Did you make records after you came back to Shreveport?]
No — I think I cut some tapes here in Shreveport but I didn’t get on any label. I just had a few records pressed but I didn’t send them to any distributors.
[Do you have any left?]
No I haven’t kept any of those old records. They were 78s.
Miltone, 1948. Club, 1948. Freedom (Houston) 1949. Modern, 1949. Swing Time, 1951. Hollywood, 1951. Speciality, 1951. Elko, 1953. Hollywood (Shreveport) 1958.
     

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