BLUES

DECEMBER 2001--JANUARY 2002

NEW YORK CITY BLUES

Memories of the New York City Blues Scene, 1966-1987
By Johnny Ace

To get a full history of the blues scene in New York City, you'll have to get some scholarly music book saying" The blues came up to New York City on the back of a mule in 1915" ... or something like that. I'm going to tell you what the blues scene was like in NYC when I was growing up and living there. NYC always had it all: the best art, theatre, fashion, sports and pizza. And of course great rock & roll, doo bop and jazz. In the late 1950's to the mid 1960's, the folk music boom brought many acoustic and electric blues men into the coffee houses and small clubs of NYC's Greenwich Village.

I started playing bass in 1965-and got into blues in 1966 thanks to my friend and neighborhood guitar King the late Mattie Paluso. Mattie turned me on to LP's by Elmore James, B. B. King and Paul Butterfield's first LP. Maybe in Los Angeles and San Francisco flower power and the summer of love was blooming-but in 1`966 where I lived in Woodhaven Queens, four blocks from Brooklyn, there was racial tension from the past riots in Harlem and Bedford Stuyvetson. And there was always racial strife at my high school: Franklin K. Lane in Brooklyn, alma mater of John Gotti. MERCY! Neighborhood guys were being shipped off to Vietnam to lose their lives. The country was beginning to split into two groups. It was no day on the beach.

I'd go on the subway into the West Village into the city and feel normal amongst all the artists, musicians and strange people. My life was saved-the music and the blues brought people together. I think the Cafe Au Go Go on Bleeker Street in the West Village was my favorite place to go hear blues. They didn't have a liquor license-so no liquor. This meant that at the ages of 15, 16 or 17, I could go in and see Muddy Waters with Otis Spann. I would also see James Cotton with his great band: the late Luther Tucker on guitar who played with everyone in Chicago (Sonny Boy Williamson II too, Little Walter, etc.) the late, crazy Alberto Gianquinto on piano who told me he had a try out with the New York Baseball Giants when he was 16, Francis Clay, Muddy Water's x-drummer, the gentleman of the blues who dressed so elegantly in his suits and scarves and who played so great on drums, and little Bobby Anderson, the heart beat of the group on bass. Bobby had a heart of gold and was my mentor. When I first met him at the cafe Au Go Go, he asked me if I was hungry and took me outside for a hot dog. I got to know them and I would get into all their gigs at the Au Go Go and the Fillmore East for free.

Paul Butterfield's band was great too. He sang so well and put on really great shows along with his guitarist wizards, Michael Bloomfield and Elvin Bishop. I don't think he ever got the credit he deserved. Buddy Guy was amazing. I also John Lee Hooker there; he made a great L.P. with Muddy's band backing him, entitled "John Lee Hooker Live at The Cafe Au Go Go."

The Village Gate, a block and a half down from The Au Go Go on Bleeker Street, had world famous Jazz and on Monday, the best in Latin. On McDougal Street, 3 blocks down and 1 over, was the Gas Light where I would see a young John Hammond, and Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee play. There were a lot of rock clubs too: The Cafe Wha?, The Night Owl, and The Cafe Bizarre, which was supposedly haunted, Loui's Tavern across the street from The Au Go Go where I would later gig, and on top of Loui's, The House of Oldies, a great record store owned by the usually grouchy Bleeker Bob and Broadway Al who loved doo wop, blues and bear. They stayed open until 1 or 2:00am on Fridays and Saturdays. Many, many nights I spent with Al, guzzling bear and listening to great old scratchy 45's.

One day in 1967, Al and Bob were off. A young friendly worker was on the shift, and John Mayall came in and tape recorded a bunch of really rare blues 45's, didn't buy a thing-and left. Bob was furious!

Back then, 1966-1968, I was still learning my craft as a bass player. And with my pals Bobby Dupree on harp and vocals, and the late Mattie Paulson on guitar, we had a band called the Thompson Ferry Blues Band. We played dives in Brooklyn and Manhattan. And we got the Steve Paul scene in the West 40's. This is where Howlin' Wolf, Charlie Musselwhite and all the rock stars played. We were in a show in 1967 with Tiny Tim before he was famous. We weren't asked back.

Also, in the East Village, there was The Electric Circus on St. Mark's Place between 2nd and 3rd Avenues which really was an electric circus with a million strobe lights flashing, flame throwers throwing and acrobats doing there bits on the band's breaks. They had a great blues series in 1969. I saw Freddy King who took Otis Rush's place when Otis canceled. Freddie still had his hair in a process and had a NYC rock band backing him up. They probably never heard of him and couldn't even play Freddie's signature instrumental, "Hideaway.' The whole gig he was screaming at them, but no one noticed because he sand and played so, so great! The Chicago Blues All Stars were there another night with Willie Dixon on bass, Sunny land Slim on piano and Big Walter Horton on harp, and James Cotton and his band played there, too. At The Circus, going out on the break with Luther Tucker, Cotton's guitar payer, I asked him if he wanted a slice of pizza, he looked at me like he didn't know what I meant. Maybe he couldn't understand my thick New York accent. Or maybe he had some high-octane smoke. I never really knew. Back then, most of the Chicago blues guys had never been to NYC and were used to playing the tough, blues dives on the West and South sides of Chicago. And doing the "Chitlin' Circuit" down South. They had never played white clubs. It was a big deal--almost like playing Las Vegas. Luther had on a white, Elvis Presley tight jumpsuit with little shiny sparkles. He was very proud of it. But with his stomach paunching out and those white patent leather Beatle boots, and me at 6' 1', at 116 lbs with long frizzy hair, we were a sight to see. People were actually gawking at us. And this was in the East Village amongst thousands of freaks. Luther just stared at me and ate his pizza, not understanding why the people were staring at US. I asked him if he liked his pizza, and he smiled and said, "Yes" and then we went back to The Electric Circus.

Back stage at the Circus, I asked Cotton if he could play "Black Night." He put his hand on my shoulder like I was his son and said "Sure." When he was on stage, he smiled at me and went into the song-and sang it magnificently. That was a big deal for me--that someone that great would do that. I was getting to see and meet my heroes, and later in life, I was able to jam and play with them in their bands.

In 1968, Bill Graham opened the Fillmore East on 2nd Avenue and 6th Street in the East Village. He featured rock & roll, but he also had great jazz and blues groups that Michael Bloomfield would tell him to hire. Now a whole new New York, tri-state audience who never heard blues got turned on to B. B. King, Albert King, Bobby Bland, Paul Butterfield and many, many more. The door people were really great when Bill wasn't around.

One night in 1969, in The Fillmore East when B. B. King was headlining, there was a jam at the end of the show. T. Bone Walker was up there a bit too inebriated to play the guitar and was directing the horn section. The great Otis Spann was on piano. A friend of mine 9I don't want to say his name) was working there. The great music ended and we were back stage hanging out. Spann came up to us and asked us if the electric piano he had been playing could travel. I looked at my friend and we smiled. The great Otis Spann should be living in a mansion with servants and a million pianos-of course it could travel. We took it out the back exit and held open a cab for the smiling Spann. We put the piano in the trunk. When graham found out it was missing, he exploded. He went up to my friend and me and interrogated us. But our poker faces were too good and he looked for someone else to yell at.

In 1969, I met Elvin Bishop, who left Butterfield's group and who put a real good blues/ r&b band together. He also had a week of work at Unganos on West 70th Street. It was owned by two car mechanics from New Jersey, Nick and Arnie. All the rock starts and jet set people went there. The pay was really low. And the band members were complaining. Paul Mc Cartney of the Beatles came in one night and was back stage with Elvin. Elvin was really depressed and told him "We are getting paid $300.00 a week." A very snobby Mc Cartney said, "That's about right." The Beatle didn't get to jam that night-and he never came back.

On that same gig late one night, Jimmie Hendrix came in. He seemed very depressed. Elvin told me there was going to be a jam and I could play bass. When the time came, I went up stage and put the bass on. Buddy Miles was on drums. Buddy looked at me and got someone to tell Elvin to get me off. They were putting the Band of Gypsies together and had a bass player they wanted to hear. Elvin came up to me and told me the situation. I said to Elvin half kidding, "Can't I whack him in the head with the bass? Maybe he'll change his mind." Elvin just looked at me--I got off the stage. Jimmie didn't bring his guitar and used one of Elvin's. He couldn't play it because he was a lefty and Elvin's guitar was strung up for a right-handed player. It didn't work out too well. That very same night, B. B. King came in and wailed. That's how it was then in New York--everyone was around and jamming.

In 1970, my friend from East New York, Brooklyn, the music photographer for the now defunct Changes magazine, the late John Bellisimo, got us a 3-day gig opening up for Muddy Waters. The money was really low but we didn't care. I was driving to the gig with Bobby Dupree and he told me to watch out for Muddy's harp player because he was real crazy. I didn't think about it too much. We got to the club, set up and went back stage. Arnie wouldn't give us too many free drinks, so Bobby bought a keg of beer. We were back stage guzzling and this maniac came up to me. His eyes had the shine and glow of a mad man possessed. He was a little shorter than me and about 10 pounds heavier. He had on a black Italian suit, and his dark blonde hair was short and slicked back with grease. He looked like 1957--this seemed very funny to me in those hippie days. He looked totally pissed and seemed about to lose it. He said to me in a very threatening voice, looking straight into my eyes, "You stole my harp!" I looked at him and laughed. I wasn't afraid at all. I said "What?" He repeated, "You stole my harp!" I didn't really know what to make of the situation. I just held my ground and said, "I didn't steal your harp." He was now really fuming. He paused a couple of beats. Then in a fast second he swished his hand into the right pocket of my old, ratted out, black sports coat. To my amazement there was a harp in his hand. But I didn't steal it. He now had the goods on me and wanted to kill me. I just laughed and very confidently and with truth in my voice said, "Hey, when we set up I saw that harp on the amp and thought it was my man Bobby's. I took it for him so he wouldn't lose it. I didn't know it was yours." He just stared at me with those steal blue, maniac eyes and walked away. That's how I met my life long blues friend Paul Oscher, Muddy Water's harp player from 1967-1971. Paul Oscher was filled with soul-what I used to call "grease." His phrasing and time, money couldn't buy. He was really gifted. Those shows with Muddy back then-Paul got over-he was stealing the show. I could honestly say that some of the guys in the band were really jealous of him. He influenced an entire generation of harp blowers, Jerry Portnoy, Rick Estrin, Steve Guyger etc.

During that time at Unganno's I got to meet John Lee Hooker. He sat in and tore the place apart. I also met Queen Victoria Spivey and her husband and right hand man, Lenny Kunstadt. I would later play with all of these artists and remain friends with them, forever.

In 1971, The Thompson Ferry Blues band dissolved. Bobby went on to have a number hit in the country: "Steal Away." We had over 40 members in that band. It was hard to find real blues guys in New York back then. I joined the Brooklyn Blues Busters in 1971, a band put together by Paul Oscher and Danny Spadudo form Brooklyn. When I joined, Paul left and was replaced by Fred Palmer, A.K.A. "Flower City Red" on harp and vocals, who was later replaced by John Nuzzo. On guitar and vocals was Howard T. Levine. We got to back up John Lee Hooker at The Cafe Au Gogo and later went on to Anne Arbor Michigan for 3 years.

THE WOMAN YELLED "RIDE!"
I have to say that Victoria Spivey, Queenie as she was affectionately called, and Lenny Kunstadt helped shaped the New York City blues scene immensely with their blues label "Spivey" out of Brooklyn. They had more than 25 titles. They made great low fidelity but high in spirit blues L.P.s with young aspiring players, like myself, from all over the New York City metropolitan, tri-state area. Veterans like Sonny Boy Williamson II, Memphis Slim, Lonnie Johnson, J.B. Lenoir, Big Joe Turner with Bill Dicey (the harp player who always found unknown night clubs and put blues in them) Bukka White, and young John Hammond are just a few of the greats that recorded for Queenie. They would record after their gigs in the city, as Queenie always had a full bar and a party atmosphere at her sessions. She was the first one to record Bob Dylan inn 1960. He played harp behind the great big Joe Williams.

Victoria had blues hits in the late 1920's and 1930's; she had her own booking agency; she was in the first all-black musical in 11927--she was only 16. She recorded with Tampa Red, Lonnie Johnson and Louis Armstrong. Needless to say, Queenie was a very courageous and smart woman. She recorded The Blues Busters and later Paul and myself. We did gigs with her and she and Lenny would always show up at our own gigs-where she would sing. At our home base in Brooklyn, The Night Cap, she had all her L.P.'s hanging on the walls and later at Dan Lynch's in New York City. Lenny and her were always hustling. We were always welcomed at her pad in Brooklyn and had great parties there. My favorite L.P. was one made with Otis Spann entitled, "Up in Queenie's Pad. It really captures the great, deep blues of Spann and Queenie's (and Lenny's) one-take method of recording live. They just kept the machine going and got all the after hours, impromptu blues on tape-not DAT. On some of her recordings and always at gigs, Queenie would yell out "Ride!" just before someone would take a solo. She would say this to inspire the player. The way Queenie would say it-"Ride!-it's hard to explain. She would say it with such hilarity and punch. It became my national anthem-life's meaning was somehow locked into that word. To hear Queenie yell "Ride!" just killed me. It described for me the greatest in music, the greatest food, the greatest beauty in nature, the greatest sex-IN THE WORLD-all in one word: "RIDE!"

Queenie always told us musicians to be good to each other. She told us we had to stick together-like a union-help each other get work. etc. That was hard to do in New York because there just weren't that many gigs. Hey-it's the same now. Once after a gig, Queenie asked me for $25.00. The gig only paid $35.00, and I really couldn't afford to do it-but I gave her the money. I didn't have any gigs that week and I was broke. I called Lenny and told him, and he laughed and said, "Johnny, Queenie don't need the money. She was just testing you to see if you were her friend." The next gig she gave me back the money and thanked me. One time Paul Ocsher and me weren't doing al that well, and Queenie gave Paul, Sugar Blue, and me money to buy suits. In fact, she even took us out to lunch. Well, I don't know about Blue, but Paul and I needed the money for living expenses-not suits. The next time I saw Queenie, she said in that lazy, moaning voice of hers, "Johnny, where's that suit?" I just looked at her innocently and she let it go. She'd say to me very seriously "Johnny-is this heaven or hell?" meaning the world we lived in. I didn't have to think much on that. I'd answer, "Queenie-this is hell!" Then she'd say "That's right, Johnny." On the topic of men's relationships with women, she'd say to me, "Johnny, you guys are always fuckin' up" and I'd laugh because she was right.

In 1972-74, I was in Ann Arbor, Michigan with The Blues Busters and came back to NYC in 1975. Disco was raging and it didn't help the blues scene much. I was now working with Paul Oscher in a group called Chicago Breakdown. We played dives in Brooklyn, and also in New York City at Dan Lynch's, which was just starting to have blues, and at the fading Max's Kansas City, which was once ruled by the Andy Warhol crowd and the glitter rock muts. The late Rose Medley sang with us and we used Ola Mae Dixon on drums. Ola was a lot of fun to work with. We recorded for Spivey Records but the band didn't last.

We got the great David Maxwell on piano. I had just met and worked with David. for 6 months in Boston in a band called the Rhythm Rockers. David was the best Chicago blues player around. He was a friend and student of Otis Spann. He worked three years with Freddy King, and also with Bonnie Raitt and James Cotton who today he is still with. We also used the veteran blues drummer, Harlem's Candy McDonald, who worked with T. Bone Walker and Big Maybelle. We all dearly loved Candy. At this time, the great rock and roll songwriter Doc Palmas, who was a legend in the New York scene, really dug us and got us a gig at The Fugue on 1rst Avenue and 16th Street. We had great times at The Fugue. A lot of greats came and sat in like Big Joe Turner. Johnny Copland, who had just moved from Texas to New York City, came in all the time to jam. Another unknown group from Texas came in one night, The Thunderbirds-and we had a great time playing. An old friend friend from Brooklyn, Cindy Lauper, would come in with her top 40 band "Flyer" and she'd jam. We had our guitar player, John Nicholas, bring in Big Walter Horton to do two big shows. We had a ball.

In 1976, Queen Victoria Spivey, the woman who yelled, "Ride!" passed away. To this day, she is missed very much by me and the other musicians that she helped. The mold was broken when they made Queenie. A few days after Queenie passed, we were playing in The Fugue and word came that Freddy King had just died. It was very strange and sudden. That night, James Cotton and Willie "Big Eye" Smith walked in. It was like we were all brought together by the blues for Queenie and Freddie. It was a night to remember-eerie-but some great blues music was made. Cotton even played the drums. The best thing at The Fugue was after hours when David Maxwell would play the piano all night long until the sun came up. Those were great days.

Until 1976, 1977, the scene continued much like it had. At Tramps and the Cookery, Big Joe Turner performed. He was still singing great-and his monologues between songs were hilarious. He was a deep man-a philosopher.

I went to San Francisco for two years for two years in 1978 and came back in 1980 to see a whole new blues scene happening. Dan Lynch's on 2nd Avenue was going great. The late Bill Dicey and his partner Robert Ross along with The Holmes Brothers were doing great business. When the New movie The Blues Brothers Came out a whole new audience was introduced to the blues. The Lone Star on 5th Avenue and 13th Street was rocking with national blues and soul acts. Tramps on 15th off of 3rd was now booming-and was my favorite place. It was small, dark intimate. I got along with the owner, Terry Dunn, from Ireland. They had great beer and great national blues acts. My friends The Uptown Horns were starting to do really great, getting gigs with Albert Collins, James Brown, Peter Wolf and later with the Rolling Stones. I put down the bass. I wanted to front. I had a band, "Johnny Ace and the Atomics" with my cousin Brian Bassessi, who played in Muddy's last band. We had the Vivino brothers who are now on the Conan O' Bryan TV show: Jerry on tenor while Jimmie played organ, not guitar. He was great at comping chords. Danny Spadudo from the Blues Busters was on drums and his friend Satch was our MC. We had some really good shows--it lasted about a year.

I took gigs playing bass with Danny Drayer, a guitar player from Chicago. Danny got me gigs at Tramps backing up Otis Rush many times. Otis took us to Europe with Crusher, Wilson Pickett's drummer. We also backed up Lowell Fulson and Fenton Robinson. 1982-1984, Brian and Ola and myself put the Abilene House Rockers together. Brian got greats from Chicago: Jimmie Rogers, Hubert Sumlin, Johnny Little John, A. C. Reed. We'd back them up. Brian also got great R&B giant who was living in Queens, Roscoe Gordon. John Hammond and Charlie Musselwhite worked there, too. It was a real good place. Another great place we worked at was Mondo Cane in the West Village. Popsy Holmes would always come in a jam-his voice was the best. This all lasted until 1987, until my pad just got too small for my wife, my four kids and me. I said goodbye to NYC, where I still am living and working today-now with Cathy lemons.

I miss the scene at Manny's Carwash and all the other places that opened and closed for blues from 1989-until now. I just went back to NYC in May and had a great reunion with Paul Oscher, David Maxwell, Ola Mae Dixon at a 50'th birthday party for Willie "The Beer" Straundberg. Willie was a main fixture at The Night Cap in Brooklyn. We had a ball at the reunion. I also went to see my friends from here Tommy Castro and his band play on 42nd street at B. B. King's. Woe-has the city really changed since the old days. Where are all the street characters, pimps, prostitutes, where are the all-night movie houses we used to go in the 70's-gone. I took Castro out for a slice of pizza-but couldn't even find one from 42nd street to 48th street and back. The Metropol, a jazz icon, was gone, along with Orange Julius and Nathan's. We couldn't even get a hot dog.

Well I guess things can't stay the same. I am real proud of being from New York and learning my trade there from the greats. Back then we thought it was just the way it was-and it would never end. It couldn't happen now. All the old greats are mostly all gone. New York City will always have the blues and will always be a great city-if not the greatest in America-maybe even the whole world-it was nice going back in time with you. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

Johnny Ace can be reached through his email
at: johnnyace@highstream.net