Already since last month there have been at least three notable deaths relating to the blues scene and since I want to end this column on a positive note, with the reader’s indulgence, I’ll cover them at the beginning. Firstly, I’d like to make mention of the great Hank Ballard’s passing on Sunday, March 2. Although he had been classified as an R&B artist, or even doo-whop for that matter, there are enough blues connections during his long career to warrant a full biography and hopefully I’ll author this more thorough account of his life in next month’s issue.

Secondly, on Thursday, February 27, it was reported that Otha Turner of Gravel Springs, MS, at 94 had died of pneumonia, just hours before his daughter, Bernice Turner Pratcher, succumbed of cancer at a hospital in Memphis, TN.

Last month I recorded the death of a truly strange and wonderful blues eccentric, Richard “Mr. Bones” Thomas, who accompanied many an acoustic blues act while percussively playing his beef bones, which he sometimes took up to nine months to carve in order to acquire the desired pitch. Well, rest assured that Otha Turner was no less a blues curiosity, as he cut the wild sugar cane, bamboo, or reeds that grew on his humble farm, punctured them with a hot poker, and finally whittled them into blues flutes with which he led an all acoustic Rising Star Fife and Drum Corps, which often included his late daughter, the aforementioned Bernice, his grandsons, granddaughter, and nephew. Earlier in life, he shared the same hand-crafted woodwind duties with other local legends such as the late Sid Hemphill and Napoleon Strickland in groups like the Como Drum Band (which also typically fronted a fife against two bass drums and a snare). Although, like Richard Thomas, he was discovered rather late in life, he still managed to make up for lost time, appearing at many prestigious events, including the New Orleans Jazz Fest, the Mississippi Delta Blues and Heritage Festival, the King Biscuit of Helena, AR, the Sunflower River Blues and Gospel Festival in Clarksdale, MS, and the Chicago Blues Festival. Other notable venues in which he participated included an appearance on ABC’s program, “Good Morning America,” NPR’s “All Things Considered” and “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” and a recent extravanganza, a grand reopening of Nashville’s Country Music Hall of Fame Museum, held at the former home of country and western’s Grand Ole Opry, the Ryman Auditorium.

Despite being written up or profiled by such renowned journals as The NY Times, The Oxford American, Blues Access, and Living Blues and having received the National Heritage Fellowship award and the Smithsonian Lifetime Achievement award, he still remained a rather enigmatic and obscure musician who could never really hope to gain popular acceptance, even among hard-core blues fans.

Having never met this affable and engaging figure (who, I’m told, would invite practically anyone at the drop of a hat to visit his lowly rural retreat for some goat bar-b-cue, fife-making lessons, and impromptu concerts presented in back yard just outside his home-made wooden shanty with a tin roof) and in order to sketch his life story, I am extremely indebted to four sources of information - the Associated Press, his website (www.billandotha.com), which also provides a few sound bites, Dolly Carlisle of the Nashville Scene, and last, but not least, Bill Ellis of the Go Memphis newspaper.

Otha Turner was born on June 2, 1907 to Hollis and Betty Turner in Rankin County, MS, but his father soon abandoned the family to fend for itself and Otha, being the oldest of the siblings, had to provide for the rest by chopping cotton and plowing the fields, In fact, he spent much of his life in the rolling hill country of north Mississippi as a sharecropper and subsistence farmer. He discovered the fife while in his late teens when he sought shelter out of the rain and spied a Mr. R.E. Williams, a black man, playing an instrument carved out of a hollow fishing pole.

According to Grammy-winning scholar and producer, David Evans, this style of music grew out of the 19th Century military tradition “but brought African and African-American elements to it such as blue notes and syncopation.” And as perhaps a final and rather fortuitous tribute to Otha, his combination blues/martial music was used to initiate the initial fight sequence in the recent cinematic release, Gangs of New York, directed by Martin Scorsese.

From most accounts, he was quite a randy rooster in his early life, fathering several illegitimate children before settling down with his wife of forty years, Ada, “Moochie” Turner, and raising a family of four children.

As many of the older generation of the bluesmen, like Mississippi John Hurt, Skip James, Son House, Sleepy John Estes, and Furry Lewis, Otha was unearthed as part of the 60s folk revival and was recorded by the aforementioned Evans for the Library of Congress, an anthology called Afro-American Folk Music from Tate and Panola Counties, MS. and also by Chris Strachwitz of Arhoolie records (originally ARH LP 1085), a live compilation taken from the Memphis Blues Festival in June, 1969, which has now been repackaged as CD 385, Mississippi Delta Blues Jam in Memphis, Vol.1. Other collections in which Otha makes a cameo are the German Living Country Blues: An Anthology and the Austrian import, Africa and the Blues, as well as the both volumes of It Came From Memphis. As part of his “discovery,” he was also the subject of a film documentary from the early 70s, Gravel Springs Fife and Drum, shot on location by Judy Peisner.

But Otha did not have a CD to call his own until at age 90 in 1998 when, through the intercession (and insistence) of Luther Dickinson of the North Mississippi All Stars band, he finally recorded Every Hollerin’ Goat on the Birdman label, which eventually was chosen by Rolling Stone magazine as one of the five “Essential Blues Records of the Decade” and he followed that critical success with another Dickinson project which was a collaboration with African musicians, From Senegal to Senatobia.

Over the last several decades his annual Labor Day cookout, through the sponsorship and patronage of longtime friend, the white Nashville attorney, Bill Ramsey, had become the stuff of legend and each succeeding year seemed to have attracted a greater following, with pilgrims flocking to this rustic blues shrine from all over the world.

Dickinson, when learning of Otha Turner’s death, most eloquently summed up his life - “He was the most complete human being I have ever met. His life, his art, his family, his whole belief system was one thing, no separation. I never met anybody I thought was as absolutely resolved as he. Maybe, Socrates, but I never had the pleasure.”

The reason why “mostly” was included in the title of this article brings us to Rufus Mitchell who died at his Ashburton home in Baltimore on Tuesday, February 18, of heart failure. He was 93 and his decease deserves more than just a passing glance because he, during the height of the segregation era, ceaselessly promoted the music he espoused and lovingly directed a venue, Carr’s Beach, south of Annapolis where his people could share his passion for blues and R&B. Although, for the most part, whites were excluded from the audience, there wasn’t a Caucasian teenager in these parts who claimed to be hip if he didn’t listen to the Sunday afternoon broadcasts of this concert over radio station WANN, a show presided over by Charles W. “Hoppy” Adams, a most spirited DJ. And, again, one of my great regrets as being a fellow Baltimorean is why I never sought out Mr. Mitchell in order to record his history for posterity. Although I was quite aware about this legendary locality (which was a mandatory whistle stop on the summertime version of the “Chitlin’ Circuit” when arenas such as the Royal Theatre on Pennsylvania Avenue lacked air conditioning), having on more than one occasion tried to sneak in or at least get close enough to hear the music, I am indebted to writer Jacques Kelly of the Sunpapers for furnishing a lot of the details of his obituary.

Born and raised in Jacksonville, FL, Rufus Mitchell moved to Baltimore in the 30s and worked as chef in area restaurants until being drafted into the U.S. Army in 1944, serving for two years at Ft. Meade. After his discharge, he set up shop in west Baltimore and then parlayed the proceeds from this dry cleaning business at McCulloh and Laurens St. into a profitable tuxedo rental venture with contracts with many city schools for proms, graduations, and formal affairs, finally retiring at 90 in 2000.

In the 1950s, he assumed the post as booking agent and general manager of Carr’s Beach, a Blacks-only, 20 acre resort and amusement park with rides and an open air dance pavilion, an enterprise which was owned by a consortium of Afro-American businesses in Baltimore. Soon thereafter, he was contracting all the big names in R&B, many who traveled in the company of huge touring groups called caravans, artists who were backed invariably by a house horn band.

Chess artist Bobby Charles, who was mistaken as Black by Leonard Chess when he heard him sing “Later Alligator (Chess 1609)” over the phone and then signed to the label, was nevertheless obligated to join this unwieldy road show as publicity for his R&B hit and he recently described to me a humorous encounter with Rufus Mitchell. “I think at the time everybody was backed by either Red Prysock’s or Sil Austin’s outfit. I did my gig onstage and actually was warmly received, but the man in charge tells me I can’t sleep in the same quarters as the rest of the orchestra because I was white. So, he ushers me into this bathhouse and pulls up a cot. And there’s where I spent the night.” By the way, Bobby who just turned 65, has just completed a great new album (featuring Sonny Landreth on guitar) to which I was privy to listen via an advance copy. Right now he’s in the process of selecting the appropriate label for optimal distribution.

To say the least, Carr’s Beach for its two decades of existence was a popular destination, with cars and buses, many from out of state, clogging all the narrow arteries leading there. And why shouldn’t they come? Suffice it to say that the normal audience of 2000 or so never got cheated. And more likely than not these jaded onlookers would be feted to a whole slate of entertainers, like the Motown Revue, the Stax/Volt cast of characters (including Sam & Dave and Otis Redding), and demigods such as Ray Charles, Solomon Burke, Sam Cooke, James Brown, and Jackie Wilson. Anyone of any import begged to play there, especially since all were given the royal treatment by the warmhearted overseer, Mr. Mitchell, who’d also arrange guest appearances by other Black celebrities, like ex-boxing champion Joe Louis in 1956, who would also mix and mingle with the crowd. It’s no wonder then that performers like Otis Redding, after having been accorded the manager’s personal touch, would be on a first name basis with Mitchell, fondly calling him “Old Soul” or “Old Dude.”

But the end of segregation, coupled with soaring seaside real estate values, signaled Carr’s Beach’s demise in the early 70s and another era came to an end. Nowadays it’s hard to imagine one or two acts of this magnitude appearing weekly, much less a half dozen, which usually comprised the line-up. Often the Sunday show resembled a Black Woodstock, with headliners galore. And during those long ago, glory days of soul and R&B, Mister Rufus E. Mitchell made it all happen.

In keeping with the recently deceased theme of the first part of this article, we’ll next turn to the flamboyant Crescent City showman, Ernie K-Doe, the singer of the monster R&B smash, “Mother-In-Law,” in 1961 on Minit, whose obituary apparently continues, although he departed this world in New Orleans, July 5, 2001. Witnesses say that his funeral, in which his elegant carriage of a hearse was pulled by white stallions, touched off a two-day, city-wide celebration. Evidently now still ensconced in her ramshackle Mother In Law Lounge at 15OO N. Claiborne Ave in the Treme neighborhood, his widow, Antoinette, chose to honor his memory by installing a caped mannequin (more like an effigy) of Ernie that sings along, like an automaton, to his greatest hits in a nearby jukebox.

After having visited New Orleans a few years back, avant-garde filmmaker Michael Almereyda (Nadja, 1994, Hamlet, 2000, and a documentary about Sam Sheppard, This So-called Disaster, 2003), became fascinated not only with the music, such as the Rebirth Jazz Band, but also with this “radiantly lived-in city, and a bunch of people with an incredible appetite for life,” he said recently in an interview in the New York Times. And he became focused upon one figure in particular, the outlandish Ernie K-Doe, the self-styled “Emperor of the Universe,” who considered himself “the prettiest man alive.” “He was wearing a yellow suit with rhinestone appliqués,” added Almereyda, depicting their first encounter.

Anyway, to make a long story short, he returned and shot Ernie on his own turf and he became an significant actor (and factor) in the movie, Happy Here and Now, also starring Karl Geary, David Arquette, ex-Mod Squader Clarence Williams III, and ex-Brat Packer, Ally Sheedy. Shot in the Big Easy, the movie is sci-fi in essence and involves virtual relationships and “computer chat rooms where participants can project fictitious identities, or avatars, into cyberspace to do their talking for them,” according to the article.

Asked why he would chose such a warm, cozy, and inviting town of “postcard imagery” for such a bleak, impersonal, and sterile conceit, Almereyda responded, “Well, it might have been natural to set this story in a cold futuristic city where technology is visibly walling people off from one another, but it seemed more interesting to veer in the opposite direction - to show a place offering a contrast, even an antidote, to that sort of loneliness.”

I don’t know if any of this is making sense and I guess one will have to see the movie, Happy Here and Now, a decidedly non-mainstream affair, to formulate an opinion. But I do know that Ernie during his life was totally given over to excessive and bizarre antics, all in the name of shameful self-promotion, and, who knows, it just could work in such an incongruous juxtaposition - a clash of old world mentality meeting what may lie in store for everyone in the beyond. Incredible as it might seem, Antoinette, his ever loyal wife, predicted at Ernie K-Doe’s death that he would become immortal. And readers, guess what? She was right!

Turning to the living, and very much so, dispatches us to Alabama and to harmonica virtuoso, Jerry “Boogie” McCain, whom I covered in an extensive three-part biography last year. At that time, both of us lamented that his magnum opus, his absolute masterpiece, This Stuff Just Kills Me, on the Jericho Cello label(90005-2) never received the proper promotion and was allowed to just wither on the vine when the label, though a division of Sire-London and under the aegis of Warner Music, suddenly folded.

To refresh your memories, Mike Vernon of Blue Horizon fame produced the endeavor which was painstakingly recorded over a two-year period in four state-of-the-art facilities - Hit Shack and Congress House in Austin, Ardent in Memphis, and the Time Zone in Chicago. Cameos were volunteered by a slew of hall of fame performers including guitarists Anson Funderburgh, Jimmie Vaughan, John Primer, and former child prodigy, Jake Andrews. On keyboards were Carl Sonny Leland and the redoubtable longtime Chuck Berry accompanist, Johnnie Johnson. Anchoring the rhythm section were ex-Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble bassist, Tommy Shannon, and drummer Chris Layton. In short, it was an assemblage worthy of a blues pantheon, who all paid their fitting homage to a long unacknowledged master of the blues harp. But, despite the all-star supporting cast and the recording which captured Jerry McCain in the rarest of forms, it was all for naught.

Well, I’m happy to announce that DixieFrog records of France (http://www. bluesweb.com) found it free and clear of litigation over copyrights, ownership, and the such, and intends to rerelease it as part of their 2004 catalogue. And I must admit it that anyone who hears it will come to the immediate conclusion that it merits such a reissue, so strong is the material. But, still, I would like to thank the talent scout of the label (whose roster includes Popa Chubby, Tommy Castro, Duke Robillard, Big Bill Morganfield, Van Wilks, Gashouse Dave, and Tino Gonzales), Guy “The American” Fay, for his diligence in pursuing the matter and then finally proffering the undertaking to his boss, Philippe Langlois, who quickly concurred with his right-hand man that they had a sure-fire winner on their hands, even in the fickle French market.

By the way, Jerry McCain has just completed another album, excerpts of which he played to me over the phone, including a hilarious extended monologue in which he portrays a hellfire and brimstone preacher, and it, too, has best-seller written all over it. According to the ever-rambunctious and outspoken Jerry, it’s ready to go. Severn records, are you listening?

We’ll move west again, touching the Crescent City with yet another topical tidbit. The Rhythm and Blues Foundation (their 13th annual) paid tribute to a string of notable singers at a ceremony held at the Manhattan Center in New York on February 20th , an event which was timed to coincide with Grammy Week festivities. Among the honorees were (individual category) blues diva Koko Taylor and American-born Johnny Nash, who revived his 50s teen idol career (ABC-Paramount) with a trio of 70s reggae-inspired smashes --“Hold Me Tight (JAD),” “Stir It Up,” and “I Can See Clearly Now,” the latter two blockbusters on Epic. In the group category were recognized the Motown luminaries, the Supremes, the 50s doo-whop sensations the Del Vikings (“Come Go With Me” and “Whispering Bells” on Dot), and the Big Easy’s Dixie Cups, who scored with no less than five chartmaking singles in the early 60, including “Chapel of Love,” “People Say,” and “Iko Iko,” all on songwriters’, Baltimore-bred Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller (“Along Came Jones,” “Yakety Yak,” “Hound Dog,” “Charlie Brown,” “Smokey Joe’s Café,” and “Searchin’”) NY-based Red Bird Label, which also authored New Orleans’s guitarist Alvin “Shines” Robinson’s “Down Home Girl” during the same time frame. In the songwriter/side person category were acknowledged George Clinton (he of Grandmaster Flash and funk fame) and Maceo Parker, James Brown’s former, scintillating sax player. Finally, the Legacy Tribute went to the late crooner and former lead singer of Billy Ward & the Dominoes, Jackie Wilson, and the Lifetime Achievement to pop queen, Dionne Warwick, who was the main beneficiary of the creative abilities of songwriters Hal David and Burt Bacharach.

But I want to concentrate here on one inductee in particular who is still active in New Orleans and whose validation as a major figure in R&B history was long overdue - the soon to be 66 Clarence “Frogman” Henry, who flirted with fame and fortune with monster hits such as “Ain’t Got No Home,” Bobby Charles’s “But I Do,” and pop standard “You Always Hurt The One You Love,” among his six hit parade singles during the period 1956 to 1962, all on Chess records subsidiary, Argo. Although he never hit the big time again, he continued to produce many great efforts well into the 60s and 70s on Parrot (through producer Huey Meaux), Dial (Buddy Killen’s label with Joe Tex and Bobby Marchan), and Floyd Soileau’s Maison de Soul of Ville Platte, LA.

I’ve been trying to get these former collaborators, Frogman Henry and Bobby Charles, together for an encore CD, perhaps Frogman Sings Bobby, since Bobby penned so many of his top tunes, such as the aforementioned “But I Do,” but also “On Bended Knee (#64 in 1961)” and “A Little Too Much (#77 in 1962),” as well as near misses -“The Jealous Kind (redone soulfully by Joe Cocker)” and “Why Can’t You.” And as the years wear on both Frogman and Bobby seemingly have been a little more receptive to this idea. Anyway, better late than never, I would like to thank the Rhythm and Blues Foundation for bestowing their token of esteem on a singer and pianist eminently worthy of such a distinction.

But we can’t leave the friendly confines of the Crescent City without hearing from the irrepressible Frankie Ford whose new album, That Can Be Used Again on Briarmeade (BR-3001) is fresh off the presses. Although Frankie hasn’t had a major hit since his signature song “Sea Cruise” on Ace, he has stayed active both in the studio and on tour. In fact, since that colossal phenomenon of February of 1959, among his many recordings, he has charted four additional times and released a dozen or so albums, including my favorite, the blues-oriented Hot and Lonely on Ace (2060) which reunited him with former producer, the late John Vincent (Imbragulio), of Jackson, MS.

Though in his early 60s, he’s constantly on the go and has become, more or less, New Orleans’s worldwide ambassador of goodwill. And, as a result, his stage show is very polished and professional, half stand-up and half music. It’s very much a Las Vegas-style program with naughty jokes and one-liners and Frankie, very much in his element, hams it up to the hilt.

But what impresses me most about Frankie is not only his proficiency with the piano and but also his breadth of material. He’s in a comfort zone with practically any species of music, be it blues to jazz to pop to even operatic-type genres.

A perfectionist to a fault, he won’t settle for a second rate performance. A couple of years back, he came to play in LA’s night club (now, horrors, the Thunderdome), the former venerable Champagne Ballroom in the down-at-the-heels Brooklyn section of Baltimore. Maybe the advertising went awry or for whatever the reason, that night the crowd was sparse and the back-up band, obviously not well rehearsed of his play list and incompetent to boot, was totally unacceptable to him. But I’ll never forget his inspired solo performance - just he and the electric piano, playing all the Big Easy classics and much more, a truly moving performance in which he gave his all. No matter whatever goes down, that’s how I’ll always remember him.

That Can Be Used Again is not a blues album and therefore might disappoint some traditionalists, since it is more reflective of his often humorous and eclectic selection during a typical presentation. But, if one keeps and open mind, there is something for everyone.

During his act, he always name drops, having made quite a few show business connections over the years and uses them in good stead here with a reprise of the early 60s ballad on Liberty records, “This Time,” a duet with the originator, Troy Shondell, and “You’re The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly,” with Grace Broussard, who, herself, had a brush with fame as part of the duo of Dale (Houston) and Grace singing Don (Harris) and Dewey (Terry)’s “I’m Leaving It Up To You” on Montel in 1963. Other vocal cameos include popular singer songwriters of the area, Mason McClain and Eddie Mahne, Jr. and singers Nancy Hebert and Travis Hatcher.

In keeping with the “gumbo of all kinds of flavors and tastes” concept of the album, to use his words, there is R& B with the Frankie’s funky remake of Lee Diamond’s (real name, Wilbert Smith, who also wrote Aaron Neville’s “Tell It Like It Is”) New Orleans’s standard, “Mama Loochie,” the classic E flat-B flat chord progression of Swamp Pop in “Together Forever,” shit-kicking C&W with “Beer Drinkin’, Honky Tonk Woman Chasing Sun Of A Gun” and “One Night In Dallas,” and straight-ahead pop in his renditions of the aforementioned “This Time” and Gene Pitney’s “I’m Gonna Be Strong.”

Throughout, Frankie’s voice is in great form and the production is flawless, making it a worthy addition to the library of any discriminating listener. That Can Be Used Again is available through Frankie’s website at www.frankieford.com

Traveling northwest from the Crescent City, there’s more news from Lafayette in the person of famed Crowley session drummer, Warren Storm, who has just released an all-blues album, Dust My Blues, on Chicagoan George Paulus’s tasty little St.George Records (STD 7709), based in the western suburb of Downers Grove. What is noteworthy about this undertaking is the fact that, despite backing scores of blues artists -- Lazy Lester (Leslie Johnson), Guitar Gable (Gabriel Perrodin), Lightnin’ Slim (Otis Hicks), Lonesome Sundown (Cornelius Green), and Slim Harpo (James Moore) - over his storied career, especially during his tenure with J.D. Miller, Warren has precious few blues recordings of his own. And we are talking here of an artist with over fifty singles and two dozen albums under his belt. But, I’m delighted to report that this oversight has finally been reckoned with and Warren can be justifiably proud of the result.

Warren at 66 has been experiencing a “second wind” of late, to use his own expression, and is not showing any signs of slowing down in the least. Not only is he touring regularly with the large ensemble, Lil’ Band O’ Gold, featuring Steve Riley on accordion and C.C. Adcock on guitar, but he’s also working independently with engineers such blues aficionado Paulus, who not only arranged this séance (with a portable recording unit) but also succeeded in booking Warren in the last two consecutive Blues Estafettes in the Utrecht, Holland, one of the most prestigious blues festivals on the continent of Europe. In fact, during the latter event, the backing musicians of this CD, including the stellar Studebaker John on guitar and harp, performed in the same capacity. And if it is simple down-home, nothing fancy, stripped to its bare essentials blues you seek, Dust My Blues, is just what the proverbial doctor recommends - just two guitars, a sax, a string bass, and Warren on drums. And it has something for everyone. If you’d like to hear some classics, there are several, like Joe Turner’s “Honey Hush,” soul stylist Solomon Burke’s “If You Need Me,” and Elmore James’s title cut. But there’s also some blues esoterica like the rarely heard Little Walter “Mellow Down Easy,” Eddie Taylor’s “Bad Boy,” and Baby Boy Warren’s “Santa Fe.” If bluesy Swamp Pop is your cup of tea, then you have a brimful - Jay Stutes’s “Sugar Bee,” Rocket Morgan’s “Your Humbuggin’ Me,” Slim Harpo’s “Raining in My Heart,” and the haunting, “Nothing New, Same Old Thing (here mistakenly titled “Blues Come Knockin’”)” penned by the tragic Gulfport, MS, composer, Jimmy Donley, and sold to Fats Domino for just a few dollars. It’s the best song of the batch and Warren has always been one of Donley’s best interpreter. I’m only sorry that he didn’t see fit to include another Donley gem of this genre, “What a Price,” which Fats also appropriated for his own.

Nonetheless, what you get with Dust My Blues is a singer who has spent over a half century thoroughly immersed in the blues and all its nuances. And what white drummer would have the balls to show up in Black Baton Rouge roadhouse in the 50s and amply supply the requisite fatback to an all Afro-American blues band. Does that tell you something about respect? Need I say more?

This CD is available from Floyd’s Record Shop of Ville Platte, the largest distributor and mail order firm for Cajun, Swamp Pop, Blues, and Zydeco in South Louisiana. Call 1-337-363-2138 and ask for Mona and tell them Larry sent you.

By the way, Warren wants to remind anyone who is in New Orleans at the end of April to look out for the annual Ponderosa Stomp, a three-day musical orgy to be held at the Rock N’ Bowl at the Mid City Lanes. This year’s jamboree is to focus upon the reunion of legendary N.O. engineer Cosimo Matassa’s studio band of yore, including Herb Hardesty (tenor), Ernest McLean (guitar), Chuck Badie on bass, Salvador Doucette on piano, and Earl Palmer on drums (with ex-Meters’ percussionist, Joseph “Zigaboo” Modeliste, lending a hand). In addition, Swamp Pop stars like Warren, Johnnie Allan, T.K. Hulin, and Rod Bernard will peform. And finally, the surviving Excello/Blues Unlimited artists of the late J.D. Miller’s roster will appear, including Lazy Lester, Guitar Gable and vocalist King Karl (Bernard Jolivette), drummer Clarence “Jockey” Etienne, and pianist Henry Gray. Chicago blues harp giant, Billy Boy Arnold, is also a headliner. With such a lineup of talent, it can’t help but be a smashing success. Try not to miss this one and at $30 a day or $80 for all three, it’s quite a bargain. I’m sure all the spectators will somehow manage to have a good time.

After Lafayette, the next and last stop on our junket through the South will be Lake Charles, LA, where Eddie Shuler of Goldband will be celebrating his 90th birthday on March 27. Although he’s slowed down a bit, he remains enthusiastic about his scouting attributes, still trying to discover another Iry LeJeune, Al Ferrier, Katie Webster, or Rockin’ Sidney in the region and always hopes to pull off yet another million seller like Phil Phillips’s “Sea Of Love.” Though not nearly as spry as he wants to be, he nevertheless occupies himself round the clock with preserving Goldband for the ages and though he’s not doing much recording of late, he sells a lot of CDs and memorabilia via mail order. Still working five days a week, he greets all visitors, great and small, and will give them a tour of his headquarters on Church St, just off of Ryan St., the last exit off I -10 before crossing the bridge over the Calcasieu River.

And while in Lake Charles, it’s always good to hear from gentle giant bluesman, Isaac “Big Ike” Martin, who, a few years back made a triumphant foray into Baltimore (the New Haven and Cat’s Eye Pub) and Philadelphia, where he regaled the audiences with his soulful, dramatic, gospel-inspired delivery and very animated stage act.

Anyway, this past Christmas he caused an unexpected sensation with his release of a single, “Santa Took My Baby,” which received a tremendous amount of airplay over local FM stations 107.5 and 105.3. Moreover, this success prompted him, or I should say, motivated him to go back in the studio in earnest to follow it up, which he did with the autobiographical “Teddy Bear (reminiscent of Howlin’ Wolf’s ‘Built For Comfort’ idea)” and “I’m Lost Without You,” two very polished and professional endeavors which also took off and attracted the interest of Warren Hildebrand of Mardi Gras records, which with the recent demise of Black Top, is the premier blues label of South Louisiana.

Well, as it turns out, he couldn’t hammer out the Mardi Gras deal in which Warren would front the money for production in return for the publishing and other rights. “I was tempted to go along with it, the studio time. But then I realized that matters would be out of my hand and I really wanted to do things my way and receive proper compensation for my work,” he said. And I agreed with him, as long as he dedicated himself to completing his next CD. “Yeah, Larry I know what I should do and I need to do it,” he added.

In the meantime though, his demo is still a hot item and he gives advance copies to all the meaningful stations on his itineraries. “Lots of times while on the road I can hear my songs being played before I get to my destination,” said Ike, who recently appeared before a sell-out audience at the Civic Center as part of Black Heritage proceedings. “You’ll find me from H to H. That’s my stomping grounds - Houston to Huntsville [AL],” he said with a hearty belly laugh.

“Be prepared to go a lot farther if you release a CD with nine more tracks like the first three big production numbers,” I told him.
“Oh, oh, time’s a wasting. Gotta go,” he said, as he hung up. Larry Benicewicz