Sometime in the 1970's (my memory is fuzzy on many of the details due to various substances and lost brain cells) .. .. at any rate, I attended a small venue concert in Mississippi, it was either Yazoo City or Rosedale I think, with BB King headlining .. the club was much like the old school "Juke Joints" they used to call them .. pretty much a dive on what was known as the "Chitlin' Circuit" .. not that it matters, but as I set up this little story, some small details should be mentioned .. I was about the only White guy in the place, and at the time, I was dating an absolutely knock your socks off beautiful young woman that just happened to be Black .. there was a degree of tension which she was woman enough to handle by putting a few of the locals in their place ..
I was bound and determined to see King in his original element, come hell or high water, so what risk that entailed I was resigned to accept. And, as I think I may have said before, I like being on an edge with some danger in the air. I had studied King's music for many years, I knew the Bluesmen that still had the Delta flowing thru their veins were not going to live forever and King embodied that rich History so, so well, and, he was in his prime .. and, I, to this day, still play a Gibson ES 355 when my arthritis allows it .. and, although by this time, King had won a Grammy and toured with the Stones, he still maintained a heavy personal tour schedule, returning to the land of his roots periodically ..
As the evening progressed, and both the crowd and myself proceeded to loosen up, through the ritual passing around of certain material and the intake of cheap whiskey, things just settled down into a steady party, with reckless abandon dancing .. and it was hot, I mean hot .. not just the temp .. and it was humid, and sweaty, and we did not care ..
Suddenly, in the middle of a solo, King's guitar went silent, the band stopped and the energy in the crowd drained down immediately, like a deflated balloon .. people were standing around in silence wondering "What the ____" .. King apologized, fiddled around with his guitar (Lucille), his amp, cable, etc .. to no avail .. Keeping in mind that back in those days, unless you were making 3 tons of money, you did not travel with a tech, and King had not brought a spare guitar .. so, finally, after about 10 minutes, King got on the mic and said "Anybody out there know anything about guitars .. ?? cause all I do is play 'em .." .. since my journey with instruments had begun a few years back, I looked around the room for a second, no takers, so with some trepidation I slightly raised my hand ..
He waved me up to the stage, made some comment about "the white boy" (it was not racist in any way) and handed me Lucille .. I had a pretty good idea where to start, and I was sweating it out hoping it would be a simple fix .. with the Swiss Army knife in my pocket (I have carried one since I was 13) and a crecent wrench another patron got from their car, I removed the output jack and discovered a wire had come loose .. having no soldering iron, I poked a hole thru one if the connectors, stripped the wire as best I could, twisted it tight, inserted into the hole and twisted it around itself for the most secure connection I could come up with impromptu .. reinstalled the jack, plugged in and played the opening riff from "Johnny B. Goode" .. the crowd cheered .. I handed Lucille back to King, he shook my hand and thanked me and said if I'd hang around till after the show, we'd have a drink and visit ..
Over the years, our paths would cross at times, and he always remembered me .. he called me White Willie or Cool Breeze .. he was a soft spoken man, very respectful and down to Earth .. the last time I saw him was, ironically, in Mississippi at a show .. I had bought front row center, at this point, he was unable to stand, and his ability to play Lucille had diminished .. yet, he still had that power to move you, and his voice was still great .. he saw me (I was only a few feet away) he pointed to me and winked .. as the encore song wrapped up, one of his entourage approached me and said "Mr King would like to see you in his dressing room if you have the time" .. I went through Security and when I got to the dressing room, he had maybe a dozen people milling around and there was a deli and cheese tray .. a woman asked if she could have some .. King said sure, help yourself .. beside herself, she blurted out something like "I ate BB Kings cheese" .. King and I made eye contact and just busted out laughing, it was so funny .. Security came and ushered everyone out but King and myself .. we visited for maybe half an hour .. and I helped myself to that deli tray ..
Was he my friend .. ? Well, no, not in the sense of Friendship .. but we were two Gypsies with a common interest and some sort of slight Karmic Bond .. So, Salute to "The Beale Street Blues Boy" .. RIP
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