Furry Lewis stepped off a plane from Memphis on May 3, 1972. Until that moment, I had never laid eyes on an authentic 'country Bluesman.' I collected his bag, together with a beat-up guitar case (black, with a white, hand-painted crescent moon and stars on one side and the legend, 'Furry Lewis - Memphis, Tenn' on the other) and we drove back to my house in SW Minneapolis. Later that day we sat in my living room and he asked if I would like to hear a tune. As the house filled with the ringing of that open E-tuned guitar and the slap of his slide on its neck, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. The first tune was free - and I was hooked.
I was working as an agent and a few weeks earlier, by lucky chance, I saw his name listed in a Billboard publication under the Personal Appearance section. The listing showed a number in Memphis. I called and Steve Lavere answered. After a brief discussion I discovered that Furry was not just "open" to play dates, he was "wide open."
Furry lived alone in a house at 811 Mosby St. He had retired from his job as a street sweeper for the Memphis Department of Sanitation and wanted to work. I got on the phone and started telling the "Furry Lewis" story to anyone who would listen. Within three or four days I had a six day tour booked for early May. The dates played and were a resounding success.
After each show (all were within an easy drive from Minneapolis) we would return to the house where Furry would play for an hour or so, charming every one in the room. When our initial visit (a week or so) was over, Furry cried, I cried, my wife Dianne cried. I assured him that we had not seen the last of each other and a month or so later I was in Memphis and began the process of meeting his contemporaries. These encounters, facilitated by Steve, eventually resulted in the formation of The Memphis Blues Caravan, a touring entourage which included, at various times and in various combinations the likes of Bukka White, Sleepy John Estes & Hammy Nixon, Memphis Piano Red, Sam Chatmon, Memphis Ma Rainey, Big Sam Clark, Mose Vinson, Madame Van Hunt and perhaps some others - but definitely NOT the Rev. Robert Wilkins. Not for lack of effort on our part. Steve called him and asked if we could come by his house to discuss a proposition of mutual interest. He said he'd listen and on my second night in Memphis, we knocked on his door.
Glad to find you Arne. Joni's recollection of visiting Furry is a brilliant statement of what it was like to meet the old men. I had a similar experience meeting Mance Lipscomb in his sharecropper's shack outside Houston. He said Bob Dylan had "witched" him so he couldn't play anymore. He also had big resentment about Eric Clapton's use of I Shot The Sheriff.
ReplyDeleteWhat was I doing meeting Mance? At the time I was working with Alan Lomax' brother, John Jr. John died shortly thereafter, and at the wake there say Mance right next to Lightnin' Hopkins. City and country eyeing each other suspiciously.