On December 20, 2012, singer and composer Jimmy McCracklin passed away in Oakland, Calif. He was 91, and had made the Bay Area his base for at least five decades.
Though I never got to meet or photograph Jimmy, he, and the folk wisdom he expressed in his classic homilies (mostly heard by this acolyte on the Imperial and Minit record labels) were practically known by rote when I wandered down to the Smithsonian Folklife Fest in the early 1970s to meet and greet some of his fellow black “griots” of the blues.
In fact, some of these musicians, younger than McCracklin, often performed some of the man’s modest hits, such as “Share And Share Alike,” “Think,” and “This Is My Answer” in their own deep repertoire. Why? Simply because of the rough, unburnished insights they conveyed to musician and listener alike.
Once I had made a true bond of friendship with drummer Vince Chappelle and flamboyant singer-guitarist Walt “Lefty Dizz” Williams, who had come to D.C. in the entourage of the boisterous and well-beloved lady shouter KoKo Taylor; I pleaded with my mom and dad, “Please, Please, PLEASE– let me travel to Chicago and learn more about what being a blues artist is really all about!”
Well, bless their hearts, my parents yielded to my entreaties, and armed with a duffel bag, a $15 electric Japanese guitar, and a handful of money, I was off and running. In Chicago, phrases like “Cussin’ Food,” “Reap What You Sow,” and “Can’t Get Enough of your Lovin’ Cup,” proved to be far more than mere words.
Third Street was the living artery where the musicians and their extended families convened.
I returned to Washington a competent blues rhythm guitarist, a heck of a serious portraitist and a young adult man; lad no more!
