It was a moment in time. Something that could hardly happen again. Imagine going into a place to look at and probably buy some records of some of your favorite artists, and seeing one or two of them right next to you in the store.
In the late 1960s I spent a lot of time in and around the famed LA folk/blues club, the Ash Grove. It was where I could see performances by legends like Son House, Howlin" Wolf, Elizabeth Cotton, and Big Mama Thornton. The place was a living museum and gave me an opportunity to see many influential performers in the last years of their lives. People like Sleepy John Estes, Yank Rachel, Lightnin" Hopkins, Hedy West, and Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup all played there. Crude was the bluesman who wrote and recorded "That's Alright" in 1947, well before a young Elvis Presley took it and added a rockabilly beat and soon became the "King" of Rock and Roll." If Presley was the King, Crudup was the Father. Presley made millions, Crudup, virtually nothing.
If the Ash Grove was a premier folk/blues club, it was also a book and record store. Back then there was a counter in the front where a small selection of books and records were available for purchase. On the counter, from time to time, was a clip board where people could fill in, "Performers you'd like to see here."
In 1967, during my Jr. year at UCLA, I'd drive from the Westwood campus every Sunday after studying all morning, to the Ash Grove on Melrose Blvd, to check out the records and pick up a flyer of coming events. One Sunday after 4 hours in the research library, I arrived and heard music coming from the empty club. In the darkened room, with the reflection of a ceiling fan painting shadows on the floor, was a very young Taj Mahal giving guitar lessons to an even younger but eager student. Every now and then, after showing his pupil some lick or blues run, Taj would just continue on by himself and play riff after riff completely enraptured by the music radiating from his National steel-bodied guitar. It was like a free concert where I was the only one in the audience. When that ended I returned to the foyer of the club and began to scroll through the blues records. To my right, was a large woman in bucket hat, blue jeans and plaid shirt. When she turned around I saw it was Big Mama Thornton. She'd come in to sign a contract to play at the club and wanted to check out the records before going home.
Before I left, I ran into a friend of mine who was pondering who to add to the clipboard requesting possible performers. He asked me if there was anyone I wanted to see. I had just started playing blues harmonica and I quickly responded, "Sonny Boy Williamson II. Rice Miller, the second one, not Sonny Boy I, John Lee Williamson." I knew he was no longer alive.
"He Dead." Sonny Boy II died." I turned to see Taj Mahal. "Yeah, he died a while back, I'd love to see him too, but we can't now."
I thanked Taj, and left the clipboard blank. Anyway the Ash Grove was doing a pretty good job of booking people already.
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