Bukka White

by Arne Brogger

Booker T. Washington White was born in Aberdeen, Mississippi, in 1902. I first met Bukka in Memphis in 1972 when Steve LaVere and I arrived at his house on Leath Street. We were greeted by his wife (aka Big Mama, per Bukka). Asking if Bukka was around, we were told that "Big Daddy is at his office."

The Office...

Bukka's "office" was located about two blocks away. It consisted of a folding lawn chair, an orange crate perched next to it and both leaning up against the brick wall of a drug store on the shady side of the sidewalk. When we got there, Bukka was already talking to visitors and sipping a pint of bourbon "as protection against snake bite. There's a lot of snakes here'bout."

I was introduced as an agent from "up north" who was interested in arranging some dates for Bukka to play. Bukka's reaction was wary and standoffish. He had obviously heard the rap before. I told him what we had in mind. We wanted to take a group of the best country blues artists living in Memphis and put them on the road. The money would be straight up and negotiated on a date-by-date basis. Bukka said he would have to hear about the money first -- before discussions went any further.

Like most musicians, Bukka had experienced his share of trouble on the money end of things in the past. This was compounded by the fact of race, and I was told obliquely but clearly that he didn't trust me, and wouldn't, until I'd delivered as promised. That was fine with me.

Over the next few months, as the dates came together, we reached an agreement and Bukka became a member of the Memphis Blues Caravan. He became a featured performer for the next ten years.

On The Bus At 5:00 a.m....

My relationship with Bukka was slow to develop, but eventually it became a friendship that I am proud of to this day. Early on he displayed himself as a man of his word. And he expected the same in return. He never had to be told twice when we were leaving, when he had to go on stage, how much time he could do. If we had a 5:00 a.m. call to leave for the next gig, Bukka was the first man on the bus.

Some time into our second or third tour, he and I were talking about his life and times, who he used to work with, how he started, etc. I asked him about Parchman Farm, the Mississippi prison which was home, at one time or another, to a great many of the blues greats. He had done some time there, in addition to stints in the Memphis county jail. All were for manslaughter. "I hated to do it, but I had no choice...." Self-defense. Bukka White was not a man to trifle with.

Aberdeen Blues...

On stage, Bukka's playing was impeccable. He was introduced as the "Master of the National Steel Guitar" and he made it ring like a bell. His signature tune, "Aberdeen Blues," contained a riff which he executed with a very flashy move. Both right and left hands crossed in front of the guitar and alternated hitting the strings on the neck and the box. Audiences went nuts.

One night after a show, a few of us gathered in Bukka's room. We had picked up a relief bus driver, a man named Eddie Humphries from East St. Louis, Missouri, who had joined us the day before. He had no idea what he was getting involved with. He sat quietly in the corner of the room and watched as the guitar was passed from hand to hand. The realization of what he was hearing was fascinating to watch. With each tune he moved closer to the edge of his chair. When Bukka played "Aberdeen" and hit that riff, Eddie exploded. "BUKKA! BUKKA! BUKKA!" It was 1:30 in the morning and you could hear him out to the street. After that night, Eddie sat in the front row of every performance.

The Big Red Stella...

Bukka was a first cousin to B.B. King. In 1974 or so, I organized a concert at Western Illinois University in Macomb, Illinois. The show consisted of Bukka White, Muddy Waters and B.B. King. Muddy had played Detroit the night before and drove straight through to make the date. He stopped in Chicago at about 4:00 a.m. to pick up harp player Carey Bell, just to add a little weight. I have never seen musicians so psyched to play as these guys were when they showed up.

Bukka opened the show, Muddy played next and B.B. closed. The show started at 8:00 and B.B. finally came down from the stage at 1:00 a.m. There were 3,500 people there, and no one left. At the close of the show, B.B. called Bukka up on the stage to acknowledge him. Bukka grabbed the mike and began to talk. He reminded B.B. of the first guitar B.B. ever had -- a red Stella given to him by Bukka. Bukka said B.B. was about 9 years old at the time. "You remember, B, you was so little next to that big red Stella..." There was absolute silence. B.B. was looking at the tops of his shoes. His eyes were filling. He looked for all the world like a 9-year-old boy standing on that stage. "Yeah... I sure do remember," he finally said, and then he threw his arms around Bukka. The audience erupted.

Bukka's artistry entertained and delighted audiences wherever we played. I sit and listen to tapes of those days and marvel at what he did. Like Furry, and most other master performers of the idiom, he varied each song to reflect what he was feeling or thinking at any particular moment. Always fresh. Always original. Always Bukka White.