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Over the last two decades there have been many major changes at Baltimore’s venerable Cat’s Eye Pub on Thames St. in Fell’s Point. The bandstand, which used to stretch the whole length of the wall, has been shortened by a half in order to accommodate more customers; no longer are there sweat drenched artists (or customers for that matter) toiling away, as air conditioning has at long last been installed; to distribute the music more evenly, PA speakers now have been suspended from the ceiling; and horror of horrors, the management today, contrary to a long standing policy, charges a nominal cover charge on weekends to compensate for lost revenues due to the crackdown on drinking and driving. One person who has witnessed all these alterations but has remained a constant through it all is none other than Steve Kraemer, who has led his cadre of band members, The Bluesicians (named after famed session pianist Sam Price’s crew), on Sunday afternoons there since 1984. “Don’t forget also that they removed my piano in 1995,” said Steve, referring to the old battered upright upon which he first plied his trade and that the powers that be decided that it took up just too much of the flooring of the stage. He’s since made use of a portable Yamaha that he alternates almost every other week with his trusty guitar, another instrument which he plays just as proficiently. But not only has Steve Kraemer endured over these last twenty years, he’s also managed to keep his unit together despite their sacrificing almost each and every weekend. “We play fifty dates a year, except for the Sunday of the St. Patrick’s parade when an Irish band takes over,” said Steve. Locals Glenn Moomau (who as harp player leads his own outfit, the Blue Flames, at Bertha’s around the  corner on Friday and Saturday nights) came aboard in 1991 and handles some of the vocal chores and the versatile drummer, Phil Cunneff (who also leads a small jazz ensemble on Monday evenings at the same Cat’s Eye), joined up the very next year. “I’d have to say that pound for pound, we are also probably the most highly educated blues band ever assembled,” said Steve, acknowledging Glenn’s teaching of writing at American University in Washington, D.C., and Rutgers graduate Phil, who is an instructor in music theory and jazz history at Harford Community College. Even the highly regarded bassist and college grad Steve Potter (now of Big Joe & the Dynaflows), a fixture for four years, is graphic designer and expertly laid out the artwork for the group’s 2002 CD, Money Don’t Hurt. But last but not least of the “intelligentsia” is Steve, himself, who earned a Doctor of Astronomy degree in 1985, after which he toiled for N.A.S.A. and the Hubble Space Telescope program at Goddard and currently is a professor at Catholic University, also in the Nation’s Capital.Despite the lack of adequate advertising, everyone in Baltimore’s blues community, including his friends, former band members, and the Baltimore Blues Society, were determined to make their presence felt and not let this May 30th milestone pass without honoring one of this area’s true blues heroes, who had dedicated so much of his time to preserving this uniquely American musical genre. Although at first it was planned as a surprise, with the Cat’s Eye generously supplying a free buffet, the celebration became a rather badly kept secret with word leaking out all over town. But no one seemed to mind that the band wasn’t exactly caught off-guard by this strong show of support. And from the outset of the afternoon, the Cat’s Eye Pub was soon swamped with well-wishers.  Not wanting to let the crowd down on his special day, Steve gamely followed his routine, all the while trying to keep his signature gravelly voice and electric piano, which he pounded furiously, above the din of the crowd. As the afternoon progressed, it became more like a “This Is Your Life” affair as erstwhile band mates like charter member, harmonica player Lenny Rabenovets, and guitarist Bob “Newscaster” Swenson (now of Dagmar and the Seductones) from his Childe Harold days offered to sit in. In fact, there were so many volunteers to take turns (aside from Steve, himself, of course) that his normal supporting cast almost had the day off. But despite this switching of personnel, the transitions were almost seamless. Or perhaps, everyone, by then a few sheets to the wind, did not seem to notice. Needless to say, a party atmosphere prevailed throughout the proceedings.Steve certainly by now can be considered an institution and everyone always assumes he’s going to be there. And why not? But he’s often taken for granted. And I don’t know if anyone realizes what a challenge it is to maintain the level of competency Steve demonstrates weekly, so that no new kid on the block can claim this turf and wrest the gig away from him. After all, he is getting paid (although no musician is remunerated nowadays commensurate to his ability) and when  money is involved, there’s always competition, especially considering the how the number of live venues has shrunk dramatically over the years. It’s no accident that Steve has ruled this roost for a generation. He’s earned this spot by both paying his dues and continually maintaining his high standards of excellence.Steve Kraemer was born in Stamford, CT, January 20, 1956, into family preoccupied with music, especially an older brother, Pete, who first introduced him to the blues. Somewhat of a beatnik, this sibling became intimately involved with the so-called folk revival movement in the early 60s which was spawned in coffee houses in locales such as Cambridge, MA, or New York’s Greenwich Village, whose clubs such as the Bitter End, the Bottom Line, and Village Vanguard catered to music of this persuasion and offered a public forum to a myriad of folk groups which later rose to national prominence, such as the Mugwumps (later Mamas & Papas), Kingston Trio, New Christy Minstrels, the Highwaymen, the Rooftop Singers, the Limelighters, and the Chad Mitchell trio, just to name a few, who in turn were precursors to a novel musical hybrid - folk rock (Byrds, Lovin’ Spoonful, etc.) But Pete Kraemer was more curious about the roots from which this music sprung and became fascinated instead with the byproducts of this rage, blues patriarchs such as Mississippi John Hurt, Furry Lewis, Skip James, Sleep John Estes, and Son House. Noted musicologists, such as Alan Lomax, John Hammond Sr., and Chris Strachwitz recognized them as seminal figures who provided the real foundation for this craze, and rescued them from obscurity, thus resurrecting their long dormant careers.  Pete Kraemer passed on his enthusiasm for the blues to his younger brother through his record collection, which not only contained the songs of these aforementioned acoustic guitar wizards but also traditional-minded white players like Tony “Little Son” Glover (harp), Dave “Snaker” Ray(12-string), and John “Spider” Koerner (guitar). And Steve soon learned about old timey jug bands by listening to the recordings of Geoff Muldaur and Jim Kweskin. Pete also had a Baltimore connection, a redneck reprobate of the fraternity brother variety, who, though an admitted racist, had a soft spot for Bo Diddley disks and Steve, a mere lad of ten, was also smitten; so much so, that he soon took up the harmonica and guitar, trying his best to emulate Bo’s rhythmical chops. Being seven years older than Steve, Pete actually let him tag along and sit in on few of his early gigs - “nothing serious” - Steve asserts. By the way, Pete went on to play bass for Virginia (Veatch) and the Blue Dots, a Washington, D.C.-based rockabilly aggregate still very much active today.By the early 70s, Steve had gained enough confidence in his playing ability to attempt a solo date at a coffee house in nearby Stamford, CT, which was run by two sisters, one of whom became a future sister-in-law. “I was probably stronger then on the harmonica,” Steve conceded. But, nonetheless, he wasn’t bashful about trying to improve his guitar technique at the public’s expense. About this same time frame, Pete was attending college at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn (renowned for its art and architecture courses of study) but living in the shaky neighborhood of Bedford-Stuyvesant in the same borough. Steve quickly saw this New York connection as an opportunity to both purchase those precious blues LPs in the Village as well as attend blues shows sponsored by the Pratt at night. “My first exposure to a live blues show was actually Tony Glover and John Koerner, who opened for John Hammond Jr. who, himself, was backed by [the late] Bill Dicey,” said Steve. At the time, the still very much missed Dicey was almost single-handedly establishing the New York blues scene centered around the now sadly defunct Dan Lynch’s saloon on the Lower East Side, where both Bobby Radcliff and Roger Eckstine first cut their blues teeth in the Big Apple. But, perhaps, Steve’s most memorable encounter with the blues during that era was a concert at Manhattan’s Hunter College which, after the audience was warmed up by local legend, Larry Johnson, pitted John Lee Hooker against Howlin’ Wolf in a battle of the bands. Wolf’s group at the time was all electrified and consisted of Sunnyland Slim on piano, Hubert Sumlin on guitar, Dave Myers on bass, Eddie Shaw on tenor, and Fred Below on drums, arguably the best blues band ever assembled. Suffice it to say that this latter venue dispelled all doubts about this young man’s musical predilections. “It was fantastic; it simply blew my mind,” Steve confessed.  As the 70s wore on, Steve devoted more and more of his time to perfecting first his guitar method and later the piano. After hearing the second release on Alligator records, an album (1973) by harmonica giants Walter “Shakey” Horton and Carey Bell, Steve became particularly intrigued by support guitarist, Eddie Taylor, the same long time sideman for Vee-Jay harp great, Jimmy Reed. Steve was taken aback by Taylor’s finger picking style which at the same time incorporated the ponderous primitive rhythms of the Delta and the lighter, sophisticated licks of Chicago’s West Side. Being a top notch bass player as well, Taylor was all too conscious about the need to push the song ahead utilizing the low strings - a practice that Steve later put to good use on the piano. In fact, Steve’s piano technique using Taylor’s guitar blueprint wasn’t a new invention. It is indeed a throwback, quite an archaic mode, born in the notorious bordellos of Storyville in New Orleans a century ago that is both difficult to master and hard on the body, especially the back, which must remain rigid and absorb the shock meted out by this heavy-handed method. What Steve plays actually is a lost art, the rugged barrelhouse (and pre-amplified) keyboard blues of elder statesmen Roosevelt Sykes, Little Brother Montgomery, and Mercy Dee Walton. The left hand, the bass, acts like the driving wheel and, like Eddie Taylor’s guitar, impels the number forward and there are at least ten variations of such patterns, in which Steve can employ all the keys. The right hand must simultaneously carry the melodic thread and, of course, there is the vocal harmony to consider. All in all, it’s a remarkable achievement of synchronicity. Many years later, after having heard Steve’s demo tape, Bruce Iglauer, the founder of the aforementioned Alligator, was duly impressed and commented upon just how rare and wonderful it was to hear such a strong left hand being utilized today. Nonetheless, by the mid-70s, Steve’s instrument of choice still remained the guitar and he honed his skills with this instrument while attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Boston, MA, where, as an undergraduate, he investigated any and all chances to stay sharp. One important association he nurtured there was with guitarist Luther “Georgia Boy” Johnson, who often invited him to sit in. Johnson had recorded for the Checker, Douglas, and the Spivey labels and forged a name for himself as a member of not only the 60s incarnation of the Muddy Waters Blues Band but also that of, ironically, Bill Dicey’s Atlantic Blues Band. Unfortunately, this camaraderie proved short-lived as Johnson died of cancer in Boston in 1976, a mere 41 years old.  Looking to keep busy, Steve later worked weekends in Vista in upstate New York, teaming up on occasion with Barry and the Romaines, a garage band with a huge cult following in the region, and which specialized in covering Jimmy Reed-type material. In 1978, Steve enrolled in the University of Maryland in College Park to pursue a graduate degree in astronomy and won an assistantship there for the princely sum of 80 dollars a week. One day he spotted a blurb in the local paper advertising the vacancy of a piano position in the weekly (Tuesday) blues jam held upstairs at the Childe Harold bar on Connecticut Ave in Washington, D.C. Though a little short on experience with this instrument, he brashly applied. In short, he assumed by default the keyboard duties for that happening. Although the money wasn’t that appealing, the food was excellent and the bartender was liberal with his pours, which was enough enticement for a poor struggling student to stay with the engagement. Moreover, the proprietor at the time, Bill Heard, described by all as “mildly insane,” would often invite visiting blues luminaries, like Sunnyland Slim or Louisiana Red (Iverson Minter), who often played at the Smithsonian Folklife Festivals on the Mall, over to his popular watering hole after their concerts were completed. Not only was Steve able to rub elbows with blues demigods such as these he also discovered that most of the gifted musicians in the vicinity gravitated to the Childe Harold and very regularly. From the vantage point of a house musician, he could easily scout out the best of the local artists. And using this pool of talent, Steve founded his first band, the Wild Cards, in 1980. It wasn’t long before this all-star cast of blues veterans was venturing forth with up to 14 venues per month, especially in the Richmond to Wilmington circuit. And it was also during this span of time that Steve began forming alliances with other area musicians of repute, including Bob Margolin and the late Root Boy Slim (Foster Mackenzie III) with whom, as pianist in his Sex Change Band, he served a brief tenure. In Washington, the Wild Cards typically called at clubs such as the Wax Museum (opening for Koko Taylor), the Psychedelly, and Desperado’s. In Richmond, VA, there was the Hard Times Lounge and in Front Royal, the rough and tumble Hideaway. Looking back to the “good old days” of one and a half hour sets without a break and performing at “scary” biker bars and strip joints in Prince George’s County like Nick and Fred’s and Kim’s Hideaway, Steve wonders how he survived that period in his life. Still, Steve remembers the close-knit fellowship enjoyed by the Wild Cards, whose ranks often swelled to as many a seven individuals with the addition of a horn section. And its alumni list reads like a who’s who of area musicians, many of whom are now fronting their own groups. Besides Lenny Rabenovets, other harmonica players of note were Richard “Dr. Harp” Lowenstein and Larry Wise. On guitar was the highly esteemed Mark Korpi, (who now resides in Florida and could not attend the 20th anniversary shindig). On bass, was everyone’s first choice and solid professional, Winston Roland, who also served a stint with local rockabilly ace, Tex Rubinowitz, and later Steve Smith’s Marked Deck. Occasionally, spelling Steve on piano was the very young Daryl Davis, who is currently making quite a name for himself in the mid-Atlantic. However, a freak accident abruptly terminated whatever aspirations of fame and fortune the Wild Cards entertained. In November of 1983, after a late-night gig at the Brickhouse (soon after destroyed by arson) bar in Pasadena, MD, a favorite haunt of Reverend Billy C.Wirtz, Root Boy Slim, and Evan Johns, a drunk driver rear-ended their van at sixty mph, spewing gasoline in all directions. In the subsequent fire, all the equipment was lost, except for Steve’s faithful Fender Jazzmaster. With the miniscule amount of money they were making at each outing, there were few alternatives. It simply was not financially feasible to replace the sound boards and PA, given the exorbitant cost involved. So, they regretfully concluded that it was time to disband. One artifact, besides the guitar, does remain from that bygone era, a solitary 45 rpm single on the Moonlyte label, cut at Bias studios in Springfield, VA, on July 22, 1981, “Hey Now(written by Mark Korpi)” bw “Baby Come Back (penned by Steve).” According to Steve, “It made a little noise on WAMU [American University] and WHFS [alternative music] and some tiny station in Richmond and then was gone forever.” Not long after this disastrous turn of events, Steve and Lenny Rabenovets, after a desultory bar-hopping expedition in the sterile suburb of Towson, MD, decided to come downtown to colorful wharf side Fell’s Point in Baltimore to resume in earnest their prior activity. Eventually, Lenny stumbled by chance upon an old upright in the Cat’s Eye Pub and promptly summoned his drinking buddy, who then proceeded to serenade the audience with a blues classic. Evidently, Steve must have made quite an impression because the former manager, the late Kenny Orye, hired him on the spot. The rest is history, so to speak, and since May of 1984, Steve Kraemer has won hands down as the most durable blues act in town, even continuing to perform in the same capacity after the demise of Orye. Ana Marie and Tony Cushing, who along with Orye leased the Cat’s Eye until finally buying the building in 1988, still consider him “as family.”  Lenny, as his harmonica sidekick, stayed on for three years until his marriage in 1987 and thereafter appeared sporadically. In the absence of Lenny, Steve either played solo or welcomed guest artists such as harp greats Brett Wilson of the Truetones or Bruce Ewan (Bobby Radcliff’s brother), guitarists Steve Smith of Marked Deck or Rick Serfas of the Soul Providers, or vocalists O.C. Nunn or James Waldman - in all, a veritable galaxy of Baltimore and Washington all stars. But all the while, Steve was searching for the ideal accompanist to fill the void left by Lenny. Finally, he found this kindred spirit in the person of writer/journalist (Ted Nugent Condominium) Glenn Moomau in late 1990, who was yet another habitué of the renowned Tuesday blues jam at the Childe Harold. And better yet, he conveniently lived just a few blocks away. In the early 90s, Steve, Glenn, Mark Korpi, drummer Jeff Lodsun, and bassist Bryan Smith, all veterans of the Childe Harold, went back to Bias studios and recorded 14 tracks for a demo cassette which could, besides being a promotional device, be sold from the bandstand on Sundays. But Steve, desiring a classier calling card, eventually contacted David Earl of Severn records about using his facilities and the aforementioned CD, Money Don’t Burn, was released in 2002, containing no less than thirteen of Steve’s original compositions, many of which he reprises each Sunday. Needless to say that his exposure at the Cat’s Eye (he was singled out in the 1991 tourist handbook, Jazz and Blues Lover’s Guide to the U.S) also has led to some prestigious gigs, including invitations to Mark Gretschel’s now-closed Tornado Alley and the Baltimore Blues Festival at the Hanover St. yacht basin a few years back. This year, Steve has been called upon to present the blues to the assembled multitude at Artscape, Baltimore’s grandest outdoor arts jamboree, held on July 16-18th in front of Maryland Institute of Art. “Larry, you know at Artscape, I’m going on ahead of our beloved mayor [who leads his own Irish rock ensemble, O’Malley’s March]. He’ll probably give me the bum’s rush and won’t even let me finish,” Steve said as he sighed with resignation. “You can’t fight city hall,” he added. Au contraire, I thought to myself. His Honor is going to have his hands full. He better be ready, because Steve Kraemer and The Bluesicians are again going to prove a tough act to follow. And as to Steve’s future at the Cat’s Eye? You’ve heard the old expression about certainties of life - death and taxes. And now you can definitely add a third. You can always hear the blues on Sunday afternoons. Larry Benicewicz |
