A Play

THE YAZOO DELTA BLUES RECORDINGS:

AN AMERICAN FOLK MUSICAL

 

ASHTON ELDER

 

 

 

CHARACTERS:

 

MISSISSIPPI GOVERNOR JIM RAYMOND BURNS: GOVERNOR OF MISSISSIPPI IN 1933. HAS NO SYMPATHY FOR THE POOR OR NEGRO. DECLARED NO ONE WILL BE PARDONED WHILE HE IS IN OFFICE.

PARDONS BLUES SINGER CHARLIE JOHNSTON FROM PRISION.

PRISON WARDEN

PAUL WARREN THE GOVERNORS ASSISTANT

MISSISSIPPI CHARLIE JOHNSTON: LEGONDARY NEGRO blues guitar player/singer who is captured on tape and later, posthumously, elevated to super star status in the music world. He is based on Leadbelly, Robert Johnson, Skip James and several others of the early blues masters.

OLD DAVID ROMINE: FAMOUS ETHNOMUSICOLOGIST NARRARATING THE STORY IN A RECOLLECTION OF HIS VISIT IN 1933

YOUNG DAVID ROMINE: THE AMERICAN ETHNOMUSICOLOGIST IN THE DELTA IN 1933

NPR JOURNALIST: INTERVIEWING OLD ROMINE

'BLU' BOY EDWARDS: MISSISSISSIPPI STATE PENN INMATE

THE PRISION CHAIN GANG:

MOSTLY NEGRO PRISIONERS DUE TO UNFAIR JUSTICE SYSTEM, SING ALL DAY LONG TO ESCAPE THE PRISON BLUES

LIL' HUEY JAMES JR.: A 17-YEAR-OLD NEGRO LEVEE WORKER

THE LEVEE WORKERS: MINROTIY DOWNTRODDEN GAND OF WORKERS, SING LEVEE CRIES WHILE WORKING ALL DAY ON THE LEVEES

 

 

 

SYNOPSIS:

The Yazoo Delta Blues Recordings

 

It is my fictional version of the travels of real life ethnomusicologists John and Alan Lomax's to the southern US in the early 1930's in which they discovered music legends Leadbelly and Woody Guthrie, captured the fascinating socio-political landscape of the early south, and recorded the roots of Southern American folk music via normal every day poor black and white workers and prisoners.

 

 

THE YAZOO DELTA BLUES RECORDINGSOPENING SCENE:

 

I'M JUST A POOR WARE FARING STRANGER BEGINS TO PLAY

 

[A journalist is interviewing David Romine on Stage. He is old and infirm, sitting down to an interview about his 1933 journey to the south to record the music of the people].

 

                    JOURNALIST:

 

 

And what exactly do you remember about that summer in the Delta, Mr. Romine?

 

                    OLD ROMINE:

 

 

I can hear America singing.

[PAUSE]

I can hear her singing some grand protest of the soul. They had no idea what they had, how valuable it was, they had no idea how valuable their songs were.

 

[ THE JOURNALIST EXITS STAGE LEFT AND OLD ROMINE MOVES TO THE SIDE OUT OF THE SCENE TO NARRARATE. THE CURTAIN BEHIND OLD LOMAX OPENS TO THE MISSISSIPPI DELTA IN 1933, A YOUNG ROMINE IS WALKING WITH HIS ASSISTANTS, THEY CART A 500 POUND SOUND RECORDER].

 

                    OLD ROMINE:

 

 

From the depths of the Delta, I hear it crying, longing, laughing…I hear America singing. The Blues run like a deep river through American history and culture, giving expression to the men and women who worked the farms, levee camps and prisons of the American South.

I sought out to capture the roots of American folklore-and I found it in the blues. It was the summer of 1933 and I had just gotten out of graduate school up North. I had a calling, I had to capture the dynamic quality of the American folk song. I knew that these songs were born, had a life and then simply faded into Obscurity.

 

[THE TWO MOVE TO STAGE LEFT, CENTER STAGE IS NOW THE MISSISSIPPI DELTA IN 1933 OUTSIDE THE MISSISSIPPI STATE PENITENTARY]

                    SCENE 2 THE PEN

 

[The prisoner chain gang begins to sing as they are chained together working outside the prison]

 

Po Lazarus is played

 

[ROMINE ENTERS THE FIELD YARD AND WAITS TO MEET WITH A NEGRO PRISIONER, 'BLU' BOY EDWARDS TO TALK ABOUT THE SINGING THAT GOES ON AMONGST THE INMATES, A WARDEN BRINGS HIM IN CUFFS]

 

                    WARDEN:

 

 

Here's this here Negro you requested sir. I don' know what you could possibly learn from him, just some small time petty thief. Let me remind you he's due back on the chain gang in half an hour.

 

[Young Romine doesn't look at the warden but instead smiles at 'Blu' he address the warden]

 

                    Young Romine [slightly sarcastic]:

I'm sure sir, you wouldn't understand. Don't worry I'll have him back on your chain gang as soon as were finished.

 

 

                    YOUNG ROMINE:

 

 

So, 'Blu', out there on the chain gang…

 

                    'BLU' BOY EDWARDS:

 

 

Yes, sir?

 

                    ROMINE:

 

 

First of all, Blu, you don't have to call me sir. My names

David, just plain David is just fine.

 

[Blu is silent and confused by his kindness but slightly smiles]

 

                 YOUNG ROMINE:

 

Out there on the chain gang, you all sing to what, encourage spirits, or forget?

 

                    'BLU' BOY EDWARDS [nervous and stuttering but excited that someone is interested in what he has to say]:

 

 

No, Now Boss, what makes it go so better, when your singing, you know how you, (stutters) you, you forget, you see? And the time that pass on with ya'. But if you just get your mind devoted on one somethin' it look like it be hard for you to make it, see…and the [stutters] The, the, the day be long look like. And to forget his mind from being devoted to being on one thing he jus' practically take up singing.

 

                    

 

 

ROMINE:

 

 

What makes a good leader?

                    'BLU' BOY EDWARDS:

 

 

 

What makes a good leader, in a way? What you mean, boss?

 

                    ROMINE:

 

 

 

Does he have to have a real good voice? Or a certain kind of voice?

 

 

                    'BLU' BOY EDWARDS:

 

 

 

Well it doesn't exactly make one difference about the dependability of his voice or nothin' like that boss, it take to the man with the most experience, to my understanding, to make the best leader. If you bring a brand new man, you see, and he had the voice, I mean even if he could sing like Peter could preach, and he didn't know what to sing, well that jus don' do no good. But here's a feller, maybe he aint 'got no voice for singing but he been corroborating with the people so long, and been on the job so long, till' he know jus exactly how it should go and he could just usually talk it, you understand how the work would go good wouldn't you? He don' have to have no good voice.

 

                        

                        ROMINE:

 

 

So it's keeping up with the time?

 

                    'BLU' BOY EDWARDS:

 

 

Yeah! You understand, that's what it takes, your time, that's all it is! You could just whistle, I mean, if you know your time and can stay in time, why you could just whistle and don't even sing and do just as good as if you were singin'…but you have to be experienced.

 

[Another prisoner CHARLIE JOHNSTON enters the exercise yard with a guitar and eagerly walks up to Romine and Blu. He has obviously overheard the last part of their conversation.]

 

             CHARLIE JOHNSTON:

 

 

Why hello, I believe I heard you two discussin' what makes a good leader out on that chain gang. Well, let me tell you, if you lookin' for the best leader in this hear pen, I'm your man.

 

[He holds out his hand to Romine, ignores Blu]

 

                    CHARLIE JOHNSTON:

 

 

Charlie Johnston's the name, music's the game. I see your talkin' to Blu Boy here, well sir, this man is all wrong for your project here, you've got yourself a bona fide musical expert in Mr. Charlie Johnston.

 

 

 

                    CHARLIE JOHNSTON

You're that fellow from up north, doin' all those recordings round' the Delta.

 

                    YOUNG DAVID

I suppose I have developed a reputation around here already. I'm an ethnomusicologist, a field recorder, I'm here with this young man 'Blu' whose telling me all about those prison songs you all sing out there on the chain gang.

 

                    CHARLIE JOHNSTON:

What'd you interested in what some ol' negroes be singin' while locked up.

 

                    YOUNG DAVID:

I want to capture America's true story over my microphone. I'm looking for the roots of the American black song.

 

[Johnston sits down and thinks for a second, meanwhile, Blu remains but is silent]

 

                    CHARLIE JOHNSTON:

I believe that there is no way you are going to be able to leave this penitentiary Mr. Romine until you've heard ol' Mississippi Charlie Johnston sing and play the blues.

 

[He begins to play, I Looked At The Sun begins to play, Romine, shocked and impressed realizes that he has found something very special in Charlie Johnston]

 

                    YOUNG DAVID:

Mr. Johnston, I do believe I would like to work with you, record more songs, if that's OK with you.

                    

CHARLIE JOHNSTON:

Boss, I don' do nothin' all day but sing and play the blues, if you want to record it, well that'd be just fine by me, but Mr. Romine, I don' know if these here prison folks would take kindly to you coming in here recording, much less let me off the chain to do so.

 

 

[Romine thinks]

 

                    JOHNSTON

 

 

I am an American citizen

[He mutters to Romine, glaring around]

 

These Memphis cops call me vagrant, but I'm a musician. These Southern laws don't recognize a man by his talents. They just think a…

[He pauses and brings his face close to DAVIDS.]

                    JOHNSTON (CONT)

 

 

 

"You ain't from 'round here. You don't play no part in all this mess goin' 'round here. You don't know nothin about it, and I, Willie B., better known as 61, because I rambles 61 Highway from Chicago clean down to New Orleans with my guitar for my buddy, I am going to tell you."

                    

YOUNG DAVID:

 

 

It sure isn't an idyllic world out there Mr. Johnston; and everyone in the Delta is so far removed from any centers of political decision-making or media or anything. That's where my mission lies: helping to give a voice to people outside of the system; people who have developed these rich veins of human expression that stretched far back into time. I believe these stories, the music are the true voices of our collective roots. I like you, Mr. Johnston, and I think your story is important to capture. Well, Mr. Johnston, I'll see what I can do about that. Don't worry, you've got something, something I've traveled all across the south and never heard, you've got a real gift to share.

 

[EXIT ROMINE, JOHNSTON, BLU. IT IS NOW THE MISSISSIPPI GOVERNORS OFFIC. ENTER GOV. AND HIS ASSISTANT WARREN

 

WARREN:

 

 

Mr. Governor, David Romine has sent this over to you. He says it's urgent.

[Warren hands the governor a record]

                    Governor:

 

What is this, a record?

                    WARREN:

 

 

Yes, sir I believe it is

                    GOVERNOR:

 

Well I'll be! Warren don't just stand there, play the damn thing!

 

[Warren puts the record on the player and "Hard time Killing Floor Blues begins to play]

 

GOVERNOR [entranced]

 

 

Who is this here fellow, Warren?

 

                    WARREN:

 

 

Some Negro doing time in the pen, Charlie Johnston I believe. He's some kind of pet project of this Romine fellow, he sent it over.

 

[Warren turns over the record]

                    WARREN:

 

 

It had something written on the back, boss.

                    Governor:

 

 

Johnston? A Negro sang this? An inmate? What's it say?

[Warren turns it over]

                    Warren:

 

 

It's a plea from Romine. He wants the Negro's sentence commuted.

                    Governor:

 

 

Commuted you say? What's this fellow in for?

                    

                    Warren:

 

 

Robbery. He has three years left on his sentence.

 

[Governor looks down at the album and thinks]

                    

Governor:

Well, if God gave a man a talent like that it seems almost a sin to keep him from sharin' that gift.

 

[The Governor pauses and thinks]

 

                    Governor:

 

Charlie Johnston, under the care and supervision of Mr. Romine of course, has hereby had his sentence commuted, active immediately.

 

[Warren begins to leave the office to carry out the orders, the Governor calls out to him]

 

                    Governor:

 

 

Oh, and Paul, make sure they keep sendin' me over more records!

[EXIT GOV AND WARREN. YOUNG ROMINE APPEARS ALONGSIDE A LINE OF LEVEE WORKERS The Levee Workers ARE Singing:

Lonesome valley plays. A young worker

LIL' HUEY JAMES JR, walks up to ROMINE with a guitar]

 

                YOUNG ROMINE:

 

 

So, Huey, what have you got for me today?

 

LIL' HUEY JAMES JR.:

 

 

He picks up his guitar "This next lil' title its called the lil' Levee Camp Blues, Work till went stone blind, work till death, couldn't find a mule when he shore dun left…That's down in the Delta, when I learned this er' song.

 

] He begins to play but first looks up and speaks]

[Looks up from his guitar and cries out]

                LIL' HUEY JAMES JR:

 

 

Boy, let's wind some'!

The Music plays:

"Levee Camp Blues"

 

[EXIT LEVEE CAMP. ENTER JOHNSTON. HE is seated solo on stage with is guitar. He begins to play a solemn tune, without looking up he addresses the audience.]

 

                    Johnston:

 

 

My gravestone is marked: "Resting in the blues."

[He pauses]

                    Johnston (cont.)

I died July 1938, a hot summer night, in a little town in Mississippi called Hazlehurst. I was playin' a show at some little joint called Three Forks. Three Forks, owned by a regula nasty son-a-bitch called "Honey Boy" Edwards.

[He looks down at his guitar]

                    Johnston:

 

 

I was up and poisoned that night for looking at his lil' gal the wrong way, trying to make her. Bastard up and poisoned me. [He pauses] But yall' don' remember my death, what most anybody remember bout' me, is the crossroads. They say that night, where US highway 49 and 61 intersect, on a lonely Delta crossroads; I met with a supernatural figure for a mystical communion.

[He looks up and adjusts his glasses]

They say that night I met with the Devil im' self and sold my very soul to play this hear guitar, for a musical gift that would led to fortune and fame, sold my soul for the only power a black man was allowed, the music, all we had.

[He puts his guitar down]

                    Johnston:

What yall' don't know is that at that time, down in the Delta, there was a rule. A rule that put the fear of God in any traveling negro who happened upon a sunset on a lonely road. The white folk of the Delta made sure we knew, "Nigger don't let the sun go down on you here."

                    Johnston:

Well, standing at that crossroads I said "Run tell my boy Willie Brown I'm standing at the crossroads, sun goin' down on me. You see, I requested ol' Willie be told in the event of my death.

[Picks up his guitar and begins to strum]

                    

 

Johnston:

Mmm, the son was a-goin' down. And at the crossroads, Lord have mercy, any of us could have met the Devil. Country people aren't afraid to look the Devil in the face. He is a familiar figure in the Delta. They see him in the courthouse every time a black man goes to prison for some bogus charge. They see him as they work long hours at the levee camps for pennies, they see him in the countless men and women hanging from Mississippi trees for being a negro in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yes they know they devil well.

 

 

 

[JOHNSTON EXITS AND OLD ROMINE AND JOURNALIST TAKE CENTER STAGE AGAIN, AND IT IS NOW MODERN DAY]

 

 

                    

 

OLD ROMINE:

 

 

I met Johnston the Mississippi Penitentiary in 1933. We came there looking for the roots of American black song, and we certainly found them with him. Well I never did see Johnston again after that. Up and got himself killed, young and stupid. Playing around with the wrong man's wife. He ended up selling millions of copies, gaining legionary fame among some of the greatest rock stars who ever recorded since his death. He is the only blues musician to sell millions of albums worldwide.

 

                    Journalist:

What do you think came out of this first journey, besides the music of course. What is it about this native music that seems to have stood the test of time?

 

That summer in the Delta I laid down 87 tracks. Men, women and children, just singing. You see, the music, the folklore, represented something distinctly American, and bridges across which all men of all nations may stride to say "You are my brother." The music made them brothers, Guthrie, Johnston, the hearts and hands of all the others who's music was born out of the struggle of those times. It encompasses the feelings of alienation, dissatisfaction orphaning, rootlessness-the sense of being a second class citizen; lost love and family and place were the norm for those living in the Delta in the early 1900's. What I got, what it turned out to be…well [PAUSE] well that, that was their America, [PAUSE] I mean, that, that was our America.

 

END WITH Final Song "I Am Weary Let Me Rest "