Show 54 - The 1930 Drought

In the spring of 1930, a horrible drought began in nearly every Southern state. It was particular tough for those dependent on agricultural work. As supply of crops dwindled, prices dropped with the Depression. People were starving. Mississippi and Arkansas were particular hard hit, so it’s no surprise that there are a few great blues songs about it. Charley Patton recorded Dry Well Blues that year at sessions for Paramount in Grafton Wisconsin focusing on the suffering of folks in his then hometown of Lula, Mississippi:

Way down in Lula, I was living at ease
Way down in Lula, hard living has done hit
Lord, your drought come and caught us, and parched up all the trees

Aw, she stays over in Lula, bid the old town goodbye
Stays in Lula, bidding you the town goodbye
Well it would come to know the day, oh, the Lula well was gone dry

Lord, there are citizens around Lula, all was doing very well
Citizens around Lula, all was doing very well
Now they're in hard luck together??, 'cause rain don't pour nowhere

I ain't got no money and I sure ain't got no home
I ain't got no money and I sure ain't got no home
Hot weather done come in, parched all the cotton and corn

Boy, they tell me the country, Lord, it will make you cry
Lord, country, Lord, it'll make you cry
Most anybody, Lord, hasn't any water nearby

Lord, the Lula women, Lord, putting Lula men down
Lula men, oh, putting Lula men down
Lord, you oughta been there, Lord, the women all leaving town

Also along on those sessions in Grafton were Son House, Willie Brown and pianist Louise Johnson. The story goes that Louise Johnson started out as Charley Patton’s girl, but by the end of the trip from Mississippi to Wisconsin, she was Son House’s girl. If Son House took Patton’s girl, he also seemed to take his theme. He recorded Dry Spell Blues in two parts due to technical limitations on recording length. Unlike Patton’s local focus, Son House shows the universality of the suffering from drought:

Part I:

The dry spell blues have fallen, drug me from door to door
Dry spell blues have fallen, drug me from door to door
The dry spell blues have put everybody on the killing floor

Now the people down South soon won't have no home
Lord, the people down South, soon won't have no home
'Cause this dry spell has parched all this cotton and corn

Hard luck's on everybody, ain't missing but a few
Hard luck's on everybody, ain't missing but a few
Now it’s been dry, oh, ain’t got even a dew

Lord, I fold my arms and I walked away
Lord, I fold my arms and I walked away
Just like I tell you, somebody's got to pray

Pork chops forty-five cents a pound, cotton is only ten
Pork chops forty-five cents a pound, cotton is only ten
I can't keep no women, no not one of them

 So dry old boll weevil turn up his toes and die
So dry old boll weevil turn up his toes and die
No ain't nothing to do, but bootleg moonshine and rye

Part II

It has been so dry, you can make a powderhouse out of the world
Well, it has been so dry, you can make a powderhouse out of the world
And holler money men, like a rattlesnake in his quirl

I done throwed up my hands, Lord, and solemnly swore
I done throwed up my hands, Lord, and solemnly swore
It ain't no need of me changing towns, it's the drought everywhere I go

It's a dry old spell everywhere I’ve been
Oh, it's a dry old spell everywhere I’ve been
I believe to my soul this whole world is bound to end

Well, I stood in my backyard, wrung my hands and screamed
I stood in my backyard, I wrung my hands and screamed
Well, I couldn't see nothing, couldn't see nothing green

Oh, Lord, have mercy if you please
Oh, Lord, have mercy if you please
Let your rain come down and give our poor hearts ease

These blues, these blues is worthwhile to be heard
Oh, these blues, worthwhile to be heard
Lord, it’s even likely bound to rain somewhere

Son House probably wrote that song specifically for the recording session in 1930. He never played it when he returned to music in the 1960s and it’s possible his only performance of it may have been at that studio session.

St. Louis musician Spider Carter recorded a number with the same title as Son House’s song in 1930 singing about the hard times resulting from the drought. Dry Spell Blues:

Dry spell is on, many a man ain’t got no homeDry spell is on, many a man ain’t got no homeThey have caused poor me to wander and roam

I woke up this morning just about half past fourI woke up this morning just about half past fourAll I could feel was my love knocking on my door

Hard times are driving me madHard times are driving me madThey are the worst off feeling that I’ve ever had

It’s so dry down home, most can’t plant cotton and cornIt’s so dry down home, most can’t plant potatoes and cornAnd don’t I miss it, since the dry spell’s been on

Everywhere that I went was nothing but bad newsEverywhere that I went was nothing but bad newsThat’s why I’m singing these lonesome dry spell blues

The great spiritual singer and slide guitar player Blind Willie Johnson also recorded about rain in 1930. He might not have been singing about the drought specifically, but it’s about God’s gift of rain. Willie B. Richardson is the female vocalist.The title is Rain Don’t Fall on Me, but the lyrics sound close to “rain done fell on me:”

Oh the rain, that old rain, that old rain done fell on me
Oh the rain, that old rain, oh the rain, that old rain
that old rain, that old rain done fell on me
Oh the rain, that old rain, oh the rain, that old rain
that old rain, that old rain done fell on me

Don’t you know promise it’s true
It was sent from heaven to you
it was sent to the beloved son of God

Oh the rain, that old rain, that old rain done fell on me
Oh the rain, that old rain, oh the rain, that old rain
that old rain, that old rain done fell on me
It’s for you, it’s for you and your children too

Oh the rain, that old rain, that old rain done fell on me
Oh the rain, that old rain, oh the rain, that old rain
That old rain, that old rain done fell on me

The main reason that the 1930 drought doesn't get much historical attention is that the dust bowl droughts of the mid-1930s overshadow it. Woody Guthrie was the greatest chronicler of that drought in song. He recorded a blues number Dust Bowl Blues:

I just blowed in, and I got them dust bowl blues
I just blowed in, and I got them dust bowl blues
I just blowed in, and I'll blow back out again

I guess you've heard about every kind of blues
I guess you've heard about every kind of blues
But when the dust gets high, you can't even see the sky

I've seen the dust so black that I couldn't see a thing
I've seen the dust so black that I couldn't see a thing
And the wind so cold, boy, it nearly cut your water off

I seen the wind so high that it blowed my fences down
I've seen the wind so high that it blowed my fences down
Buried my tractor six feet underground

Well, it turned my farm into a pile of sand
Yes, it turned my farm into a pile of sand
I had to hit that road with a bottle in my hand

I spent ten years down in that old dust bowl
I spent ten years down in that old dust bowl
When you get that dust pneumonia, boy, it's time to go 

I had a gal and she was young and sweet
I had a gal and she was young and sweet
But a dust storm buried her--sixteen hundred feet 

She was a good gal, long, tall and stout
Yes, she was a good gal, long, tall and stout
I had to get a steam shovel just to dig my darling out

These dusty blues are the dustiest ones I know
These dusty blues are the dustiest ones I know
Buried head over heels in the black old dust, I had to pack up and go
And I just blowed in and I'll soon blow out again

Further reading: Luigi Monge's essay on Son House's Dry Spell Blues in the David Evans book Ramblin' On My Mind and Nan Woodruff's book As Rare as Rain about the drought and federal assistance programs providing relief.

Songs:
Dry Well Blues - Charley Patton
Dry Spell Blues Parts 1 and 2 - Son House
Dry Spell Blues - Spider Carter
Rain Don't Fall on Me - Blind Willie Johnson
Dust Bowl Blues - Woody Guthrie

Show 51 - Levee Camp Blues

Levee construction began in the 19th century in the U.S. on the Mississippi River and rivers like the Red and the Brazos. Work has pretty much continued on them since. In the 1920s and especially the 30s, government contractors brought laborers into camps to build the levees higher and higher. These camps were wild places where the only law was the boss. Murder and other crimes were common. It was yet another situation where black laborers were brutally exploited. Still, there was no shortage of men looing for jobs on the levees. Pay was better than sharecropping. At least when a worker got paid. They often didn’t.

Texas singer Gene Campbell told the story when he recorded Levee Camp Man in 1930:

These contractors, they are getting so slack
These contractors, they are getting so slack
They’ll pay you half of your money and hold the other half back

There ain’t but two men that get paid off
There ain’t but two men that get paid off
That’s the commissary clerk and the walking boss

I see somebody coming down to the water trough
I see somebody coming down to the water trough
I know it ain’t the contractor, it’s that doggone walking boss

A levee camp mule and a levee camp man
A levee camp mule and a levee camp man
They work side by side, and it sure is man for man

A levee camp man ain’t got but two legs you know
A levee camp man ain’t got but two legs you know
But he puts in the same hours that a mule do on four

I wouldn’t drive no four-mule team
I wouldn’t drive no four-mule team
For no doggone contractor I’ve ever seen

Men on the levee hollering “Whoa Haw Gee”
Men on the levee hollering “Whoa Haw Gee”
And the women on the levee camp hollering “Who wants me?”

Whoa, Haw, and Gee are direction calls for the mule teams. The women hollering who wants me presumably would have been prostitutes. Women at levee camps did include prostitutes as well as the wives and girlfriends of the men. In 1927, Lucille Bogan, recording as Bessie Jackson, sang about how difficult it was to be a levee camp girl in Levee Blues:

Down on the levee, Camp Number Nine
Down the levee, Camp Number Nine
You can pass my house, honey you can hear me cry

I never had no blues, until I come by here
I never had no blues, until I come by here
I'm going to leave this camp, you can’t start in here

My sister got the, brother got them too
We all got the levee camp blues
I ain't found no doctor, ain't no doctor in this whole round world
I ain't found no doctor, ain't no doctor in this whole round world
Just to cure the blues, the blues of a levee camp girl

In 1941, Son House recorded Levee Camp Blues for the Library of Congress telling a story about a woman after the good pay of a man working on the levee:

Every evening she would be standing at the landing crying
Oh she would be standing at the landing crying
Why don’t that big boat hurry and bring home that man of mine

Way down the river you get to hear that big boat whistle blow
Oh, you could hear the big boat when she blow
Well when that doney got that check, I said, she couldn’t use me no more

I’m going away, I’m going to stay a great long time
I’m going, I’m going to stay a great long time
You know I ain’t coming back, honey, until you change your mind

Oh, don’t a man feel bad when the good old sun goes down
Whoo, I said when the good old sun goes down
I said he don’t have a soul, boy, his soul is in the ground

Alan Lomax recorded work songs including an example of the type of music sung by levee workers. Levee Camp Holler:

Whoo, I woke up this morning and I was feeling bad
Whoa, babe, I was feeling bad
I was thinking about the good time that I once have had

Whoa Lord, boy she brought my breakfast this morning and she didn’t know my name, she didn’t know my name
She said give it to the long line skinner with the brass knob hand
She said give it to the long line skinner with the brass knob hand

Oh, boys, iIf you want to go down to Mr. Charlie and don’t get hurt,
Go down Monday morning when the boy’s at work, you’ll be alright, you’ll be alright
Mmm, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord
Boys, I got a woman up here right away looking for me
Boys, she’s looking for me, she’s looking for me
Lord, I’m going home before long, hmmm
Bye bye, bye bye baby, I’ll be home before long

Texas Alexander recorded a similiar type of work song in 1927 for Okeh records, Levee Camp Moan accompanied by Lonnie Johnson on guitar.  It’s a levee camp moan set to some amazing music:

Mmmmmm
Lord, they accused me of murder, but I haven’t harmed a man
Accused me of murder, I haven’t harmed a man
They have accused me of murder, and I haven’t harmed a man

They have accused me of forgery and I can’t write my name
Lord, They have accused me of forgery and I can’t write my name

Went all around that whole corral
I couldn’t find a mule with his shoulder well
I couldn’t find a mule with his shoulder well

Worked all morn and I worked all day
I couldn’t find a mule with his shoulder well

Mmmmmm, mmmmmm mmmmmm
Lord, that morning bell
Lord, she went up the country, yeah, but she’s on my mind
Well she went up the country, but she’s on my mind

If she don’t come on the big boat, she better not last
If she don’t come on the big boat, bog boat, she better not last
Lord, If she don’t come on the Big Boat, I mean she better not last

Leadbelly also examined the abuse of levee camp mules in his 1935 Library of Congress Recording, I am All Out and Down about life on the levee camp and a woman wanting a man's pay:

Honey, I'm all out and down
Honey, I'm broke baby, and I ain't got a dime
Every good man gets in hard luck some time
Don't it baby, don't it baby, don't it baby, don't it baby

Ah the mules and the horses taking corn and hay
The women in the levee, shouting 'cause it's morn' pay day
Sweet day, sweet day, sweet day

Honey, I’m a long ways from you
Honey, I'm going to tell my woman like the Dago told the Jew
You don't want me, honey I don't want you
Tell me baby, tell me baby, tell  me baby, tell me baby

Well the sun is going down and the mules is getting hungry and the men are getting hungry too
And just thinking about it’s close to payday
And the man had a brown skin woman
And he he wished pay day would move off a little further
So he wouldn't give his baby nothing til payday comes
She was shouting because she knows it’s morn pf payday
And here’s what the woman said:

Ah the mules and the horses taking for the corn and hay
The women in the levee, shouting 'cause it's morn pay day
Crying Day, crying day, sweet day, sweet day, sweet day, sweet day, oh day

Honey, what you want me to do?
Honey, I'm going to tell my woman like the Dago told the Jew
You don't want me, honey I don't want you
Tell me baby, tell me baby, tell me baby, oh baby, oh baby

The brownskin woman keeps you worried all the time
Brownskin woman makes a good-eyed man go blind
Won’t you baby, won’t you baby, won’t you baby, won’t you baby, won’t you baby?

Honey, I’m a long ways from home
Honey, I’m the poor boy a long way from home
Can't get nobody one the ?
Can I baby, can I baby, can I baby, can I baby?

Honey, I’m all out and down
Honey, a yellow woman makes a preacher lay his bible down
A jet black woman makes a jackrabbit hug a hound
Won’t you baby, won’t you baby? Ah baby, ah baby

Don’t it baby, don’t it baby, don’t it baby, don’t it baby

Well, do you hear me blow my horn?
Honey, keep it in the market gunning side by side
Can’t get to ? nothing will let you ride
Won’t it baby, won’t it baby, won’t it baby, won’t it baby?

Honey, I’m bound to sing this song, honey

Ma Rainey saw the levee camps as something keeping a man and a woman apart. She recorded Levee Camp Moan in 1925:

My man has left and he’s gone away
Back to the levee where he used to stay
I kiss and hug him and his kiss is good
I feel so lonesome and awful blue
That’s the reason you hear me moan the levee camp moan, I can’t help myself

Each night and moment I yearn for romance
Back to the levee where my man be
That’s the reason I moan the levee camp moan

I’ve been to ? I’ve been to Houston
It’s all because I love him baby
That’s the reason you hear me moan the levee camp moan

Mmmmm, mmmmm,
It’s all because of...
That’s the reason you hear me moan the levee camp moan

In 1941, Washboard Sam sang about a more modern levee camp with most of the same problems. Levee Camp Blues:

Says I worked in a levee camp just about a month ago
Says I worked in a levee camp just about a month ago
Says I wind so many wagons, it made my poor hands sore

We slept just like dogs, eat beans both night and day
We slept just like dogs, eat beans both night and day
But I never did know just when we were due our pay

They had two shifts on day and the same two shifts at night
They had two shifts on day and the same two shifts at night
But if a man winds wagons, he can't treat his baby right

Yeah boy, wind it now, wind it

Electric lights going out, telephone is bogging down
Electric lights going out, telephone is bogging down
I'm going to keep on winding because I'm the best old winder in town

Songs:

Levee Camp Man - Gene Campbell
Levee Blues - Lucille Bogan
Levee Camp Blues - Son House
Levee Camp Holler
Levee Camp Moan - Texas Alexander
I'm All Out and Down - Lead Belly
Levee Camp Moan - Ma Rainey
Levee Camp Blues - Washboard Sam

Show 42 - Minstrel Songs in the Blues Era

Minstrel shows and music played a huge part in shaping American popular culture. Though most people immediately think of white performers in blackface, black minstrelsy performed by African-American entertainers was popular and influential. In the first few decades of the twentieth century black performers from the minstrel stage like Ernest Hogan and Bert Williams were huge stars. These men actually did put burnt cork on their face to darken their skin and perform in blackface. Classic blues stars like Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey shared these stages and developed their reputation with touring minstrel shows. We usually think of country blues (singers like Blind Lemon Jefferson or Charley Patton) as a departure from this kind of entertainment. But the influence of minstrelsy on country blues performers is clearly present. So I thought we'd take a look at some country blues performers looking back to the popular black music of their youth and some race records from the twenties and thirties of older minstrel songs.

Let's start with one of the deepest Mississippi country bluesmen. Son House recorded Am I Right or Wrong during his Library of Congress recording session in 1942. It's based on a song called There are Others Who Don't Think That Way by Shepard Edmonds, popular around the turn of the century when Edmonds was with the minstrel company called Isham's Octoroons. Here's what Son House did with it:
Am I right or wrong?

You may not think because I'm black
I'm gonna beg you to take me back
No baby, was I right or wrong

I'm going in the spring
I got a mess from shaking that thing
Now babe, was I right or wrong?

Up the heck, right down the pine
I lost my britches right behind
Now baby, was I right or wrong?

You may not think because you're brown
I'm gonna let you dog me around
Oh honey, was that right or wrong?

You may not think because you're yellow
I'm gonna give you my last poor dollar
No babe, was I right or wrong?

Look here honey what you want me to do
Done all I could to get along with you
Now honey, was I right or wrong?

You need not think because I'm black
I'm gonna beg you to take me back
No honey, was that right or wrong?

Now I'm going in the spring
I got a mess form shaking that thing
Now honey, was that right or wrong?

In 1909, The Florida Blossoms minstrel company was touring the South playing theaters or setting up shows under a big big tent. During that time, the group's singers were performing a song that had grown popular on the black minstrel circuit called I'm So Glad I'm Brown Skinned, Chocolate to the Bone. In 1928, Barbecue Bob recorded I'm so Glad I'm Brownskin for Columbia records.

So glad I'm brownskin, so glad I'm brownskin, chocolate to the bone
So glad I'm brownskin, chocolate to the bone
And I've got what it takes to make a monkey-man leave his home

Black man is evil, yellow is so lowdown
Black man is evil, yellow man is so lowdown
I walk into these houses just to see these black men frown

I'm just like Miss Lilliam, I'm just like Miss Lilliam, I mean Miss Lynn you see
I'm just like Miss Lilliam, I mean Miss Lynn you see
She said a brownskin man is just all right with me

So glad I'm brownskin, chocolate to the bone
So glad I'm brownskin, chocolate to the bone
And I've got what it takes to make a monkey-man leave his home

Yellow man won't quit, black man just won't hay
Yellow man won't quit, black man just won't hay
But a pigmeat mama crazy about brownskin baby ways

I got a yellow mama, I got a yellow mama, she always got a pleasant smile
I got a yellow mama, always got a pleasant smile
But that brownskin gal with those coal black dreamy eyes


So glad I'm brownskin, so glad I'm brownskin, I'm chocolate to the bone
So glad I'm brownskin, chocolate to the bone
And I've got what it takes to make a monkey-man leave his home

Hmmm, Hmmmm, Lord, Lord, Lord
And I've got what it takes to make a monkey-man leave his home

William Moore was a barber in Virginia and a bluesman. In 1928, he recorded the song Ragtime Millionaire that was written by Irving Jones, one of the most successful songwriters of his era. In 1902 and 1903 that song was a hit, being sung by black minstrel singers across the country. It's the kind of fantasy about being rich that was once popular and still appealed to Moore almost twenty-five years later.

I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a ragtime millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

Mr. Henry's gonna send me a Ford, he must
Everybody else is gonna take my dust
Gonna put a little sign on: "In God We Trust"
I don't mean to have no fuss
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a rag,
I'm a ragtime millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

Some of the boys say that I'm gonna be late
No, if you please, I got a twenty-eight
Some boys say they gonna catch me at last
But all I got to do is just to step on the gas
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a ragtime millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

Gonna take my sweetie to a ball tonight
Make those boys treat her right
Keep her out about half midnight
I don't mean to have no fight

All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a rag
I'm a ragtime millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

Every tooth in my head is solid gold
Make those boys look icy cold
I brush my teeth with diamond dust
And I don't care if the bank would bust

All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a rag,
I'm a ragtime millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

I'm a rag, I'm a rag, I'm a rag,
I'm a ragtime millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me
Because I'm a ragtime millionaire

Banjo player Gus Cannon was one of the great jug band leaders in the twenties and thirties. He frequently looked back to minstrel songs for inspiration and like William Moore he recorded a wealth fantasy number that was a popular Irving Jones composition 25 years earlier. In 1927, he recorded My Money Never Runs Out. It took verses from Jones' song, My Money Never Gives Out as well as a song called I Don't Care If I Never Wake Up"written by Paul Knox. Gus Cannon's My Money Never Runs Out:

There's a certain yellow joker lives around this town
Just as lazy as lazy can be
Was long to shake, Says he hangs around
I love my hot belly

Early one morning come right away
Not a word was said
Boy I go back to bed, Man I give up my hand
I don't care if I never wake up

Man, I don't care if I never wake up
Til these boards get through with me
I'm coming back here with my big smoke
I'm gonna make them climb a tree

Nothing like living like a money king
Drink from a silver cup
She poured the pass straight out of my glass
I don't care if I never wake up.

Now if my money boy was stacked high
I believe it would go to touch the sky
I'd buy the people with a dime a dozen
Man I don't care if the banks do burst

Cause my money don't never run out
Rich folks, you're making me doubt
Now every good evening, we gonna post and shout

Said I'm living good all the time
I don't drink no cheap wine
When it's always thirst, good money don't never run out

My money don't never run out
Rich fools you're making me shout

It's notable that Gus Cannon took out all uses of the word coon from the original composition. Around the turn of the century, what are referred to as "coon songs" were an integral part of both black and white mistrelsy. Professional stage singers (even white ones) of a certain type were called coon shouters. The most famous song was black composer and singer Ernest Hogan's All Coons Look Alike to Me. It was a hit that remained popular for decades. The term coon is undeniably offensive to the modern listener amd it already was by the twenties when Gus Cannon removed the word from his song. Not all blues singers making race records did that though. Luke Jordan was one singer who went back and forth. He recorded an old song from the ragtime era called Traveling Coon in 1927. Note him going back and forth between calling the central character a coon and a man.

Folks let me tell you about a Traveling Coon
His home was down in Tennessee
He made his living stealing chickens
And everthing he sees

Policeman got straight behind this coon
And certainly made him take the road
There never was a passenger train run so fast
That Shine didn't get on board

He was a traveling man, he was a traveling man
The was the travelinest man, finest was in the land
He was a traveling man, finest was in the land
He was a traveling man, it's known for miles around
He never give up, no he wouldn't give up
Til the police shot him down

They sent the traveling coon to the spring one day
To fetch a pail of water
I think the distance from the house to the spring
Sixteen miles and a quarter
The coon went there and he got the water all right
Came back stubbed his toe and fell down
He ran back home, he got another pail
He caught the water, before it hit the ground

He was a traveling man...

By 1941, when Washboard Sam and his Washboard band (Simeon Henry, William Mitchell, and Big Bill Broonzy) told the story of that same Traveling Man, and references to coon are gone:

He's a traveling man, He's a traveling man
He's a traveling man, He's a traveling man
He's a most-traveling man, ever been in this land

And when the law got after him, he sure got on the road
And when the law got after him, he sure got on the road
And if a train passed, he sure would get on board

He's a traveling man, he was seen for miles around
He's a traveling man, he was seen for miles around
He never got caught, til the police shot him down

Police shot him with a rifle and the bullet went through his head
Police shot him with a rifle and the bullet went through his head
Peoples come from miles around just to see if he was dead

They sent down South for his mother, she was grieving down in jail
They sent down South for his mother, she was grieving down in jail
When she opened up that coffin, don't you know that fool had disappeared

Let's finish with one from Memphis singer Furry Lewis who was a veteran of later day minstrel shows. It's a version of a song that Bily Cheatham was singing around the turn of the century when Furry would have been 7 or 8 years old. Cheatham called it I'm Gonna Start Me a Graveyard of my Own, In 1928, Furry Lewis called it Furry's Blues. It's a fantasy about killing all the people that have wronged him:

I believe I'll buy me a graveyard of my own
Believe I'll buy me a graveyard of my own
I'm going to kill everybody that has done me wrong

If you want to go to Nashville, man's ain't got no fare
If you want to go to Nashville, man's ain't got no fare
Cut your good girl's throat and the judge will send you there

I'm going to get my pistol forty rounds of ball
Get my pistol forty rounds of ball
I'm going to shoot my woman just to see her fall

I'd rather hear the screws on my coffin sound
I'd rather hear the screws on my coffin sound
Than to hear my good girl say I'm jumping down

Get my pencil and paper, I'm going to sit right down
Get my pencil and paper, I'm going to sit right down
I'm going to write me a letter back to Youngstown

This ain't my home, I ain't got no right to stay
This ain't my home, I ain't got no right to stay
This ain't my home, must be my stopping place

When I left my home, you would not let me be
When I left my home, you would not let me be
Wouldn't rest contented til I come to Tennessee

It's tough to know how similar Furry's Blues is to the older Billy Cheatham song because so few black performers from the minstrel days were recorded. But taking at least themes and ideas from black minstrel music was an undeniable part of blues recordings from the 1920s and 30s. Some of the blatantly racist lyrics from the black face minstrelsy of the ragtime era made it through to the era of race records and blues recordings. Though there are relatively few recordings of black performers from the earlier era, the music they made was popular and revisited decades later by performers that we've heard who clearly recalled the pop music of their youth fondly.



Songs:
Am I Right or Wrong - Son House
I'm So Glad I'm Brownskin - Barbecue Bob
Ragtime Millionaire - William Moore
My Money Never Runs Out - Gus Cannon
Traveling Coon - Luke Jordan
Traveling Man - Washboard Sam
Furry's Blues - Furry Lewis

Further Reading: Ragged But Right by Lynn Abbott & Doug Seroff

Show 31 - Mississippi Road Trip

For this show, I thought we'd travel around Mississippi listening to songs that talk about various towns and parts of the state. We'll start in the small Delta town of Avalon in Caroll County a little north of Greenwood. It's the home of Mississippi John Hurt and this is the song that led to his return to playing music in the 1960s when researcher Tom Hoskins looked in Avalon to see if John Hurt was still in the hometown he sang about in 1928:

In New York this morning, just about half past nine
In New York this morning, just about half past nine
Thought of my mama in Avalon, couldn't hardly keep from crying
Avalon my home town, always on my mind
Avalon my home town, always on my mind
Pretty mamas in Avalon want me there all the time

When the train left Avalon throwing kisses and waving at me
When the train left Avalon throwing kisses and waving at me
Says come back daddy, stay right here with me

Avalon's a small town, have no great big range
Avalon's a small town, have no great big range
Pretty mamas in Avalon sure will spend your change

New York's a good town, but it's not for mine
New York's a good town, but it's not for mine
Going back to Avalon, stay there with pretty mama all the time

As he sang in Avalon Blues, John Hurt was clearly a Mississippi guy, but his playing often sounds more typical of an east coast musician from North Carolina or Virginia. But another Mississippi musician was a Mississippi guy all the way through. He sang like he was from Mississippi, played guitar like he was from Mississippi, and sang songs about Mississippi. It's Charley Patton, the greatest chronicler of Mississippi in blues song. In Stone Pony Blues from 1934, he sings about Vicksburg, Greenville, Lula, and Natchez.

I got me a stone pony and I don't ride Shetland no more
I got me a stone pony and I don't ride Shetland no more
You can find my stone pony hooked to my rider's door

Vicksburg's my pony, Greenville is my great mare
Vicksburg's my pony, Greenville is my great mare
You can find my stone pony down in Lula town somewhere

And I got me a stone pony, don't ride Shetland no more
Got a stone pony, don't ride Shetland no more
And I can't feel welcome, rider nowhere I go

Vicksburg's on a high hill and Natchez just below
Vicksburg's on a high hill, Natchez just below
And I can't feel welcome, rider nowhere I go

“Stone Pony” was an expression for anything good. Patton's uses the phrase as a metaphor for young women he has around Mississippi.

Big Bill Broonzy was one of the many who made the trek out of Mississippi to Chicago. But he never forgot the South. In Lowland Blues from 1936 he sings about Jackson, Greenwood, and anywhere in Mississippi being his true home.

When I get down in the lowland, I won't be mistreated no more
I'm going to Jackson, Greenwood is where I belong
I'm going to Jackson, Greenwood is where I belong
Anywhere in Mississippi is my native home

Bukka White sang about his troubled times with the women in Aberdeen, Mississippi.

I was over in Aberdeen on my way to New Orleans
I was over in Aberdeen on my way to New Orleans
Them Aberdeen women told me they will buy my gasoline

There's two little women that I ain't never seen
There's two little women that I ain't never seen
These two little women they're from New Orleans

I'm sitting down in Aberdeen with New Orleans on my mind
I'm sitting down in Aberdeen with New Orleans on my mind
Lord I believe them Aberdeen women going to make me lose my mind

Aberdeen is my home but the men don't want me around
Aberdeen is my home but the men don't want me around
They know I will take these women and take them out of town

Listen you Aberdeen women, you know I ain't got no dime
Listen you women, you know I ain't got no dime
They had the poor boy all hobbled down

New Orleans is over 300 miles away from Aberdeen. But that was nothing to many blues musicians willing to pick up and go for any reason. For Bukka White it was to get away from the Aberdeen women and to get to some new ones down in New Orleans. Like Mississippi John Hurt, Bukka White returned to playing because of that song when a letter came addressed to Bukka White, Blues Singer, Aberdeen, Mississippi. It was from the great guitar player, John Fahey. And it resulted in White playing music across the country and the world.

The legendary Son House recorded a song about Clarksdale that was finally released last year, Clarksdale Moan:

Clarksdale's in the South, and lays heavy on my mind
Clarksdale's in the South, lays heavy on my mind
I can have a good time there, if I ain't got but one lousy dime

Clarksdale, Mississippi always gonna be my home
Clarksdale, Mississippi always gonna be my home
That's the reason you hear me sit right here and moan
...

Nobody knows Clarksdale like I do
Nobody knows Clarksdale like I do
And the reason I know it, I follows it through and through

Every blues fan should visit Clarksdale. It's not surprising that a student of Son House also sang songs about Missisippi. Indeed, the legend of Robert Johnson, can't be separated from his travels from Mississippi town to Mississippi town. He sang about it on Traveling Riverside Blues:

If your man gets personal, want to have your fun
If your man gets personal, want to have your fun
Just come on back to Friar's Point mama and barrelhouse all night long

I've got womens in Vicksburg, clean on into Tennessee
I've got womens in Vicksburg, clean on into Tennessee
But my Friar's point rider now, hops all over me

I ain't going to state no color, but her front teeth crowned with gold
I ain't going to state no color, but her front teeth is crowned with gold
She got a mortgage on my body and a lien on my soul

Lord I'm going to Rosedale, going to take my rider by my side
Lord I'm going to Rosedale, going to take my rider by my side
We can still barrelhouse baby, because it's on the riverside

The amount of blues talent that's emerged from Mississippi is staggering.
Sometimes it seems like every small town in the Delta, and other parts of the state, was home to some musician who made a great record. It's tough to say why and its at least probably because scouts for the record companies were more aware of Mississippi talent than they were of other regions. But the Mississippi Delta, dominated by cotton fields and harsh plantation labor has been called the most Southern place on earth, and it's not a coincidence that so much of this great Southern music came from Mississippi. I'm glad so many musicians recorded songs about its towns.
Songs:

Avalon Blues - Mississippi John Hurt
Stone Pony Blues - Charley Patton
Lowland Blues - Big Bill Broonzy
Aberdeen Mississippi Blues - Bukka White
Clarksdale Moan - Son House
Traveling Riverside Blues - Robert Johnson

Show 16 - New Music for 75 Years Ago

Show 16 - New Music for 75 Years Ago



Songs from The Stuff That Dreams are Made Of:
Clarksdale Moan - Son House
If I Call You Mama - Luke Jordan
Mississippi County Farm Blues - Son House
I'm Going Back Home - Memphis Minnie and Joe McCoy
Married Man's Blues - Wade Ward

Show 11 - Church Blues

Show 11 - Church Blues -

My first show for the Delta Blues Museum.

The blues and religion have a complex relationship. Though blues has often been castigated at the Devil’s Music, many blues musicians have always played religious songs. Charley Patton and Blind Lemon Jefferson were frequent performers of religious music. To this day, many blues singers will end a show with a gospel number. Others sing gospel, but make sure to keep religious music separate from what’s going on it the club.

But being frequently criticized by church folks must have provoked the need to respond in some blues singers. The songs featured on this show, give the blues singers a chance to respond. The musicians I featured come from all over the country and play in different styles, so the need to respond was not a localized phenomenon.

There’s some interesting discussion of attitude towards philandering preachers in the Fisk University/Library of Congress study of Coahoma County from 1942. The book was finally released last year as Lost Delta Found: Rediscovering The Fisk University-Library Of Congress Coahoma County Study, 1941-1942. Another interesting read on blues and religion is Jon Michael Spencer’s Blues and Evil. This very academic text is at times unclear (and I think he misreads other blues scholarship), but the argument is definitely thought provoking. He argues that blues have an essentially religious nature that’s not evil at all.

Songs:

Church Bell Blues - Luke Jordan
Preachin' the Blues, Parts 1 & 2 - Son House
Preacher Blues - Henry Brown
He Calls That Religion - Mississippi Sheiks
Denomination Blues, Parts 1 & 2 - Washington Phillips