A Tale of T-Bone and The StiKman
It was 1973,
I sat in with T-Bone Walkler on harmonica on the first night of a three night T-Bone Walker engagement at Vassar College. He liked me (or my playing) and asked if I would be interested in joining up and would I come back tomorrow night and play with him the whole night? How many ways could I say “yes?” In many ways, for my 18–year-old-self, it was the best possible gig in town. Old friends I wanted to see and girls I wanted to “impress,” (that’s a nice way of putting it,) would be there. The StiKman had hit the Big Time!. Playing with Blues Legend T-Bone Walker.
The next afternoon I came back. The band greeted me warmly and there was a place on the bandstand for me already set up. T-Bone wasn’t there, but I was told we would rehearse for about 45 minutes, followed by a break for an hour, and then showtime! Forty-five minutes didn’t seem like much rehearsal to me, but I was the “new kid.”
We ran a bunch of songs and I noted on the setlist which harmonicas I would use.
We took our break.
I resisted beer and pot.
After an interval that seemed like a lifetime, showtime arrived!
We played our first of three 20-minute sets and it went well.
After the set, T-Bone greeted a beautiful blonde co-ed in her twenties and went off with her for his break.
Nothing seemed unusual about that.
She seemed very intelligent and in awe of meeting an iconic Bluesman Celebrity.
Nothing seemed unusual about that, either.
25 minutes later they were back.
We were only supposed to break for 15 minutes.
But, I have to say, there was nothing unusual about that, either.
As T-Bone strapped on his guitar he giggled like a schoolgirl.
Now, that WAS unusual.
He whooped and sniffed, and made a gesture, which I later understood as a gesture that represented snorting cocaine.
I had yet to encounter cocaine as yet, so I wasn’t sure what he meant.
Oh, man!
Who knows how many cues and references were lost on this callow youth?
We were now nearly 15 minutes behind schedule.
I think I was the only one who was worried about this.
We began to play “T-Bone Shuffle” and we played the heck out of it.
We then played “Mean Old world” which gave me goosebumps.
In the middle of “Mean Old world” T-Bone started to sway widely, began to stagger, and then he came crashing down on the floor.
We stopped playing.
Was he all right? Was his guitar damaged?
Everything seemed good to go.
The audience and the band laughed.
I, however was unsure how to act or feel about what I had just witnessed.
I was “the new kid.”
We helped him to his feet and he called out “Midnight Blues”.
So much for the “setlist!”
The drummer began to count “One, two, three…”
Before he got to “Four” T-Bone was down on the floor again.
We helped him to his feet.
This time the moment we let go he began to fall down again.
He had momentarily blacked out.
He opened his eyes from the floor and muttered “piano.”
The other guys seemed familiar with this.
I was, after all, “the new kid.”
We helped him onto the piano bench.
He began to play “Bye Bye Baby”
It went well.
After “Bye Bye Baby” we helped him strap on his guitar and stood him up.
But before he could call out a tune he was down on the ground again.
He wasn’t giggling anymore.
We propped him up on the piano bench.
He really seemed disoriented.
He began to play without calling out a tune.
After an extended intro he began to sing “Bye Bye Baby”.
Again.
Didn’t he remember we had just played it?
My guess, was “nope.”
We played a rather twisted and uncomfortable “Bye Bye Baby,” and I thought,
“He looks a little better.”
He stood up, strapped on his guitar, and fell down again.
Remembering this now, I wonder:
did we witness T-Bone Having a stroke?
No one seemed worried about him.
I was “the new kid.”
What did I know?
Once again we helped him to the piano bench.
Unfortunately, for a third time he began to play “Bye Bye Baby.”
The house lights went up. The stage power was cut.
My brief tenure in the iconic bluesman’s organization was over.
His manager said “Whatever he told you, forget it. There’s no tour.”
The boot!
I don’t think my “homeys” were especially impressed.
I don’t think they even knew who T-Bone Walker was in the first place.
So, they probably wouldn’t have been impressed even if it had gone well.
But it did not go well.
Oh, no. It really did not go well.
A contemporary The StiKman photo.
It’s a trip to see a picture of you from the 70s.