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Little Arthur, Artesia's and 'the scene'
A remembrance by blues fan Bill Rody
(Bill Rody began listening to live blues in Chicago in 1979 and
became a close friend of Little Arthur Duncan in the ensuing years.
His reminiscences of that time are definitely part of the tapestry that
is Chicago's blues legacy.)
I'd met Little Arthur and his band, The Backscratchers, in the winter
of 1979. Classic bluesman John Brim had a place up North called
the Broadway Blues Club or as he called it "West Side Blues on the
North Side." The bar was large and split into two parts - if you
wanted to drink and shoot pool, that was one area. If you wanted
to hear music you paid Stanley the Bartender or Grace (John Brim's
wife) $5 to walk into an area the size of a Quonset Hut, where there
were various tables. (none of which seemed to match, including
picnic tables). The place was never filled. In fact for the six weeks,
I was going there, I don't think there were more than 10 or 12
people there on any given night.
At the time I was still digesting a lot of different music. I was still
deep into a lot of pre-war "classic blues" like Bessie Smith, my
tastes mirrored my parents who spent a lot of time at Bill Reinhart's
Jazz Ltd. On West Grand. The first time I was at John Brim's I met
Big Walter Horton, Eddie Taylor, Floyd Jones, Pete Crawford and
Kansas City Red. Because of the small crowd, John Brim made the
audience introduce themselves to each other and to the band. It
was one of the first cool "music" moments I had, that I could claim
as my own and not resulting from my parents influence. I loved
the entire feel of the situation and talking to the other folks there,
like they were neighbors.
That Saturday I went to a record store about
a half mile from my house that just
happened to be having their "quarterly
clearance sale." I went back twice, the
second time with a box to carry my
purchases all back with me. In my stack
were seven of the eight of the Best of Chess
two-fers. I spent the rest of that gloomy
rainy afternoon listening to Jimmy Rogers
and Little Walter. I also made sure I'd saved
$20.00 to spend at John Brim's that evening.
When I went to the club Little Arthur and the
Backscratchers were playing. Since I'd
listened to Little Walter just hours before,
Little Arthur's harmonica playing had the
same effect on me, it kind of vibrated my
spine. and I knew I was on to something.
Just like the previous night, I wasn't shy and
automatically introduced myself to Little
Arthur and the Band. Arthur and I hit it off
immediately. All of a sudden after a couple
of drinks, Arthur kept saying to anyone with
earshot. "That's my man Rody. Rody you can be my manager and
I'll take care of you!" It was such a head trip for me. Not even
shaking hands with Muddy Waters and the Blue' s Brothers at
Chicago Fest earlier that summer compared.
Thus began my blues addiction; it was infinitely on the scale of sex,
drugs and Rock 'n Roll, only marginally rationalized by the plain fact
that I was perpetuating my bloodlines, and my parents were cool
about it.
By the time I was 21, I had a "respectable" record collection of
almost 400 LPs, various mixtures of jazz, blues, soul, disco and folk
music. I didn't care if I had another girlfriend, I spent about $100.00
a week on records. I also believed in my own personal approach to
the music, being part of it, even if you weren't actually a musician.
Little Arthur nurtured a lot of that, never forgetting to remind me that
I was part of the "family" - much to the mild chagrin of my father (his
hobby was photography and he did give me a 35mm camera and
said "Go forth and shoot").
John Brim's club didn't last long after that, we had a surprise 14"
snowstorm on New Year's Eve that year, freezing the pipes and
pretty much that was that. So Arthur would call my house and
always let me know if he had a gig or was sitting in somewhere. He
always let my Dad know where I'd be, who I'd be hanging with but
never what time I'd be home. My Dad was pretty used to my late
hours, especially after some of my late night sojourns with Bob
Koester over at Theresa's.
One of my personal beliefs is that when you have chances to see
live music in its "home grown setting" - up close and personal -
you're are witnessing living history and you'd better take advantage
of these opportunities when they present themselves.
Arthur Buys The Artesia Lounge
So flash forward about 10 years. Arthur and
I had been in sporadic, but regular contact. In
1989, after my father passed away, I'd moved
to the Northwest side of Chicago. Arthur
called me and told me he had bought this
club at Hamlin and Lake. It was called the
Artesia Lounge and had to be that last gasp
of Blues Bars in a neighborhood that had
seen better days.
Arthur talked me into buying a tape-deck
which he could hook up with a turntable and
speakers, and voila all of a sudden I was a
Deejay. That first time I was there, my hair
stood on end for the better part of the night! I
would have felt better if the Green Line had a
stop right there, but no such luck. I had to
walk about 5 blocks, the trek consisted of a
CTA Maintenance Yard, abandoned
warehouses and a couple of suspicious
looking houses where there always seemed
to be shady people lurking.
The Artesia Lounge was one short step from
being a dive, but God I loved it. It was the
atmosphere, my piece of the Rock as it were. After the first couple
of times, I was a trooper about the whole scene. I always realized
that the bands at the Artesia were living and breathing musical
history, and Little Arthur made no bones about the fact he wanted
me to tape every band he had there. If someone bitched, well they
could go see him. He was especially passionate about this after his
guitarist James Scott passed away.
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