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Edition no. 72 November 1, 2010 |
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John Lee Hooker was the cool breeze that put the devil in blues music |
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Someone to respect and admire |
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By Thomas Terrio |
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All my life I been doin' what people tell me to do. Now, I'm telling them. |
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If you don't know the blues... there's no point in picking up the guitar and playing rock and roll or any other form of popular music. |
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Afterthoughts |
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As a writer/journalist, sometimes it’s difficult to find a topic close to home where the writer cannot only educate, but inform his readers about something or someone important enough to make a difference in their daily lives; something powerful enough to make a genuine impression on the reader. In this edition, unlike others, instead of discussing global politics or the economic crisis, I have chosen to digress and write about someone who I respect and admire, blues legend John Lee Hooker. In my view, Hooker struggled against resistance from his family and society at a time when people of black heritage were treated as less than human; long after then US President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the abolition of slavery at the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. To me, John Lee Hooker is a true example of determination, and without a doubt, someone to admire who demonstrates strength in character and the human spirit. John Lee Hooker was born August 22, 1917, and grew-up the son of a poor sharecropper in Clarksdale, Mississippi. His father was the local preacher and would not allow him to play his guitar in the house. Reverend William Hooker considered John’s music the “work of the devil”, and forced him to play his riffs in the barn. At a young age, John Lee Hooker struggled to find his own identity. His father allows him to keep the guitar, as long as it doesn’t cross the threshold of the house, “All the time I was pluck' in on it, my daddy called it the Devil.” He said, ‘You can’t bring the Devil in the house.’
The story of John Lee Hooker’s life is, essentially, the story of his resistance to any and all attempts to change him, to dilute an intrinsic sense of self, which has successfully withstood all pressures, including those of institutionalized racism, family, church and the music business. That resistance has been, at times, virtually a passive one: throughout his life, Hooker has remained polite, deferential, quiet-spoken and accommodating. Despite the occasional peevish or impatient outburst, he doesn’t argue, he doesn’t bluster, he doesn’t bully. And then finally, when absolutely no alternative remains, he quits. By which I mean: he leaves, he splits, he dusts, he’s outta there, he’s nothing’ but a cool breeze. It doesn’t matter if it’s a marriage, a record contract, a family, a home: once Hooker decides he’s had enough, that is it. No discussion, no recrimination, nothing, just gone. And the reason he does it is to protect himself. Not because he is callous, or cowardly. He is neither. But himself—or rather his self—is that which makes the music, and that will be protected at all costs; yea, even to the ends of the earth (Murray 16).
While a young man, Hooker’s life evolved around the farm, church, and school. Of course, being the son of a preacher, he had to sing in church. John soon discovered his voice, and with that, became a local favourite. “I was a very talented young man, and everybody in the county looked up to me and said, ‘Oh, that kid is something’ else, he can sing better than anybody I ever seen.’ “When I come into the church everybody look round, and when I started singin’, people start shoutin’ and hollerin’. I had such a tremendous voice. I was nine, ten years old” (Murray 25). John Lee Hooker had two choices in his life. He could get an education, stay down in Mississippi, work as a farmer, and most probably never be a musician, or he could leave and seek his fame and fortune elsewhere. To John Lee Hooker, the choice was an easy one. He was a determined young man. For example, instead of going to school John spends time in the woods playing his guitar. He would time things perfectly by leaving early in the morning pretending to go to school, and then arrive home just when class was out. Of course, his family suspected nothing. Henry Rollins was quoted in Rolling Stone Magazine, “In my mind, music is made by those who music saves. Jimmie Hendrix would not have done anything else with himself. John Lee Hooker, what else was he going to do? Work at McDonalds”? When John’s mother remarries, his new stepfather is a musician by the name of Will Moore. As a result, Will Moore gives his new stepson an old mail-order guitar. Moore becomes John Lee Hooker’s spiritual, artistic father figure, the father who approves, encourages, and supports his musical talent. Above all, Will Moore empowers John with the “Boogie.”
Throughout the story of the blues, there are countless examples of such “adoptions.” Son House “fathered” both Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters. Sonny Boy Williamson II and Howl'in Wolf both, at different times “adopted” James Cotton. Little Walter took Junior Wells as his “son.” Later on, Albert King “adopted” Stevie Ray Vaughan, Albert Collins, and Robert Cray. These relationships involve more than simply tuition, though tuition is indeed the formal basis, the foundation upon which they rest. Above all, they are spiritual lessons in life, in living (Murray 34).
In 1936, Hooker leaves Clarksdale and moves to Memphis. There he finds a daytime job as a caretaker and plays evening gigs in the Beale street bars; it is there where Hooker meets Elmer Barbee who points him out to Bernie Besman, a well-known producer. In 1948 “under the guidance of Bernie Besman, John Lee Hooker makes his first recordings for Modern Records from which “Boogie Chillen” stands out….. selling over a million copies” (CD Chronology, Marino Grandi IL Blues Magazine). The rest of course is blues music history. John Lee Hooker’s musical career spanned more than fifty years. Hooker influenced such artists as The Rolling Stones, John Mayall, and the Yardbirds. His latter day projects included working with Johnny Winter, Bonnie Rait, and Carlos Santana. On June 21, 2001, John Lee Hooker passed away in his sleep, leaving behind a legacy of blues music that without rival makes him a giant of the genre.
Sources: Hooker, John Lee. The Boogie Chillen Man. Blues Encore 1996. Chronology—Mario Grande (“IL Blues” Magazine). Murray, Charles Shaar. Boogie Man: The Adventures of John Lee Hooker in the American Twentieth Century. St. Martins Press, New York, N.Y. 2000. www. Rockhall.com/hof/inductee
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