Brownsville, TN lies east of Memphis, just off Interstate 40 - The Music Highway. In 1999, (holyshit...a decade ago??) I took the exit to Brownsville on my way back to Nashville from Memphis. I was looking for a right-hand road.
It had been almost 20 years since I had seen Hammy Nixon, more than two decades since I'd seen Sleepy John Estes. By that time ('99) they were both long gone. I last encountered Hammy on Sept. 17, 1981 when, as a pall bearer, I sat next to him at the funeral of Furry Lewis. Rufus Thomas sat on the other side of me. An Oreo Sandwich, book-ended by musical greatness. Knox Phillips (Sam's son) was in the audience, Jim Dickinson may have been there as well. Sid Selvidge and Lee Baker, torch bearers and Memphis musical luminaries, sat behind us. Hammy spoke, as did Rufus and others. I did not. Cowed by the august company and fearful of uncontrolled sobbing, I sat mute. One of my biggest regrets. But that's a story for later.
John and Hammy lived near each other in Brownsville. Squalor doesn't come close to describing their situation. Steve Tomashefsky of Delmark Records attended John's funeral in 1977 and described to me what he saw. Run-down, falling to bits, disheveled, were just some of the words I heard from him. Children with lineages of questionable origin ran about. It was said that Hammy's wife may have been John daughter, or vice-versa, or not. Who knew. But above all of this poverty and squalor rose the poetry of John's lyrics and the power of Hammy's harmonica.
The two partners had performed all over the world. They were the only members of the Caravan whom I sent to the Molde Jazz Festival who went directly to Norway, without having to stop in Washington, DC to undergo the "passport routine" (a routine I'll describe in detail in a later post). John continued to compose and recorded for Delmark Records until very late in his life. His works, most recorded for various "race" labels from 1929 to the early 40's, were covered by many popular performers. These ranged from various flamboyant American and British rock stars to the careful and poignant Ry Cooder.
John lost his sight in the 50's and depended on Hammy to shepherd him about. His disability further deepened the bond between them and Hammy was always attentive to John's needs. John suffered from a blood pressure disorder which caused him to nod off on occasion. The moniker 'Sleepy' was given him in the 40's and it stuck for life. Hammy never used the nick name and always referred to him simply as John (I can hear him say it as I write this...).
John was fascinating to talk to. His conversation bespoke his poetic bent and made it a joy to listen. I remember sitting with him on the tour bus shortly after he and Hammy had returned from a series of overseas concerts. How was it, John? "I traveled and rambled far from home. Met peoples speaking a language I have never known." John's poetic style of speech was such that, when he spoke, all the other Caravan members listened. He was treated with a reverence and respect unique among members of the group. Hammy, on the other hand, was more "one of the boys." No one ever thought twice about giving him a verbal jab and he endured it all with constant good humor.
Hammy was a large man, ample around the middle. He loved to eat. Anything left on a plate after lunch was fair game to Hammy. Backstage, he hoovered the cold cuts and fried chicken. He also suffered form considerable flatulence (yeah, well I'm terribly sorry - you'll get past it...). He had 'required seating' near the front of the bus and more than once during a tour, a groan would go up from someone followed by a "Jesus, Hammy!" The front door of the the bus was flung open as we sailed down the highway at 65 mph. Never seemed to bother John, though - a fact that further strengthened the bond between them...at least, I'm sure, from Hammy's perspective.
The road, to John and Hammy, as for many of the Caravan members, must have seemed like a Five Star vacation. Not only was there the adulation and attention, expenses were covered, there was a copious amount of liquor (not something that either John or Hammy particularly indulged in) and clean sheets and plumbing that always worked. Off the road, things were a bit different. John's Delmark Records obituary noted, "However, like many artists, he had distinct public and private selves, and the poverty and frustration in his home life have spelled out a great American tragedy." None of this want, however, marred John's persona or performance. Articulate and witty, when 'the dozens' were played on the bus, and the ball tossed to John, hoots and hollers went up, "...Whatcha gonna say to that, John!!" Everyone hung on his response and whistled and clapped as the line hit home.
[Below are John and Hammy performing Corrina Corrina in Japan in 1976, the year before John's passing. Hammy is playing harmonica and kazoo (!).]
No comments:
Post a Comment