Raymond Greiner's writings include short stories and essays published frequently in various literary journals and magazines: Branches magazine, La Joie Journal, Literary Yard Journal, Nib Magazine, Canary Literary Journal, Bellesprit Magazine, Freedom Journal, Grace Notes Literary Magazine. His book, a collection of fiction and nonfiction essays titled Hinterland Journal was recently published by Outskirts Press. Raymond lives in a remote area of southern Indiana in a cabin far off a lightly traveled road with his two dogs Orion and Venus.
The Blues
Gazing out the single window of my small apartment the view is a littered alley with overturned trashcans. Two cats feud over food scraps and a homeless man sleeps in the fetal position on a sheet of cardboard, wearing a long overcoat and stocking cap. The diffused glow of streetlights accent this dismal scene. This city typifies social shift caused by white flight seeking to escape urban decay, escalating racial division. Detroit is spiraling into a metropolitan crisis zone. The year is 1968 and the Motor City is beginning to feel the economic toll of foreign auto manufacturing competition. Last year a race riot destroyed a large segment of the inner city. I live close to downtown near the Detroit River. My apartment is adjacent to the Riverfront Bar, where I am employed.
I graduated from Michigan State earning a
degree in English but my heart is in music studied as a minor. I have
been a guitar student since childhood. My Mother was black and my father
was a white naval officer. My only memory of my father is a photo taken
of him before I was born. I have struggled with personal balance and
direction my entire life. My Mother was a beautiful and gifted blues and
jazz singer financing my education and influencing my musical pursuits.
She also was a drug addict dying last year from cardiac arrest
triggered by an overdose of heroin. My association with her musical
colleagues’ inspired me to master the blues and jazz guitar becoming my
passion in life. An English degree offers limited career opportunities,
which is why I live and work where I do.
I am recognized as a black male; however,
my light skin color blocks stereotypical ethnic identity, combining
with a reticent personality yielding drift toward isolation, resulting
in anxiety and despair.
The Riverfront Bar gig enables me to play
jazz and blues instrumentals on Friday and Saturday night between
9:00PM and 1:00AM, but with strings attached. I am also the cleanup guy
after the bar closes. The job comes with a free apartment but the pay is
atrociously low. I am paid
12 dollars a day for cleanup and 75 dollars each night I perform plus
tips. The bar is a dive; smoked filled and mostly unsavory types
frequent the place. The regular customers have nicknamed this bar the
“Sewer” because it is located near the city’s main sewer overflow
dumping into the Detroit River. After a heavy rain the stench is
intolerable. The bar’s owner charges a fee to selected hookers
gaining access to display their wares and drug activity is commonplace.
I tolerate this environment because of personal joy I receive
performing and am grateful when customers offer compliments. Seeing my
name on the small marquee causes my heart to race. “Jason McNeil Jazz
Guitarist”
In recent months it is apparent my music
is attracting different and larger crowds. One night last week it was
standing room only for a while. During my performance break, a beautiful
blond woman and two male companions greeted me with compliments
introducing themselves as Jenny and Harold Schmidt, a brother and sister
and Harold’s friend Joe. Jenny lives in California and is visiting her
brother. Joe recommended my music, thus their visit to the “Sewer”.
Jenny revealed she had been drawn to blues since childhood and that she
also plays the guitar.
“Blues instrumentals are beyond my skill level but I have good voice range and sing folk music, which seems a better fit.”
“I enjoy folk music also. Blues is rooted in southern, slave folk music, often sung while working in the fields. Many are unaware of blue’s origin. Blues
evolved extensively during the depression era escalating
instrumentally. Voice and lyrics form the foundation of blues music.
Instrumentalists’ apply intricate licks diverting attention from the
vocalist, who remains steadfastly the dominant, important figure overall
within the blues music genre. My Mother was an exemplary blues singer.
My performing here as a solo instrumentalist allows me a personal outlet
to mix a few blues pieces with jazz. But it’s a shallow portrayal of
blues without a quality vocalist to accompany me, or more appropriately,
me to accompany the vocalist. Your compliments are greatly appreciated.
As a performer recognition is the ultimate reward.”
“Jason I have several thoughts I wish to
share with you. I must return to California in two days and it would be
my pleasure to buy you lunch tomorrow, discuss your music, especially
blues relating to my recent experience in California.”
“How can I refuse? My apartment is upstairs in the adjacent building. Give me a time and I will be ready.”
“I will pick you up at noon.”
“I look forward to it.”
Jenny is a head turner, tall and elegant
with vividly penetrating blue eyes forming a natural captivation. I
visualize her more as an angel than a person. She arrived promptly,
driving her brother’s BMW.
“You are right on time. So nice of you to offer me lunch.”
“Jason, your guitar playing is extraordinary, stimulating something I must discuss with you.”
Jenny was raised in Detroit and took me to a nice restaurant in an affluent suburban area, a stark contrast to the “Sewer”.
“I have lived in Southern California for
10 years working various jobs and singing folk music in coffee shops and
a few restaurants and lounges. For the past two years I have been
performing at the Blue Moon Restaurant at Redondo Beach one night a
week. The owner Maurice Jackson is a blues lover and has organized a
fabulous blues quartet with a lead singer that is truly out of this
world; the best I have ever heard. Maurice has a fascination with folk
music, which is experiencing a revival during this decade and he allows
me to perform on the quartet’s night off. The quartet’s vocalist Jessie
Brown has become a good friend and is encouraging me to sing blues.
She tells me my voice is right and my range is ideal for blues. The
complication I am coping with is blues singers are traditionally black
manifesting from blue’s ethnic foundation.
If I aspire to develop my blues musical skills it is unlikely I will be
successful since I don’t fit the standard blues singer’s image. Jessie
thinks I can transcend this and has committed to work with me to develop
a personal blues style.”
“Well Jenny, much to consider. It may not
be the conundrum it appears to be. Blues original lyrics reflected
hardship and strife, evoking sadness, as one can imagine the pain and
suffering brought forth from human enslavement. Modern blues infuses
contemporary themes, displaying lyrical narrations crossing cultural
boundaries. Blues offshoot is classified as ‘Rhythm and Blues’, which
created its own offshoot called ‘Rock and Roll’. It’s a fascination how
blues music expands into alternative, but related forms of musical
expression. I am unsure I agree that race is altogether attached to
blues. I read an interview with Janis Joplin a white blues singer. Janis
has ventured more into a rock and roll style but her voice is pure
blues. When Janis was a teenager she listened to blues recordings,
especially attracted to Odetta. She went to high school in Texas, was
shunned and taunted, overweight with severe acne. She carried an
Autoharp wherever she went and would sing when inspired. She said she
was a misfit in high school: ‘I read, I painted and I didn’t hate
niggers.’ Janis listened endlessly to blues music. She blossomed and
found her place in blues. I believe she is one of the best of this era. I
have all her records. I saw her perform with the Cosmic Blues Band. If
your friend Jessie thinks you can make the transition to blues I think
you should give it a try.”
Jenny was silent for a moment, as if trying to arrange a response to my thoughts.
“You encourage me. Maurice and Jessie met
with me prior to my visit. They said they would assist me if I decided
to pursue blues vocals. Maurice and Jessie have many contacts in the
music business. I will discuss this with them again when I return and I
will also tell them I met a very gifted blues and jazz guitarist.”
I felt great attraction
to Jenny. Her beauty was deep, beyond her model image of blond hair and
blue eyes. I gave her my phone number and she said she would call to
update me after her meeting with Maurice and Jessie.
“Hello Jason? This is Jenny. I met with
Maurice and Jessie. They are excited that we met and feel our meeting
represents a step forward for me. Maurice is flying to Detroit in a few
days especially to meet you and will pop in
the Riverfront Bar to attend your performance. He’s a very warm and
caring man, successful and runs the Blue Moon with precision. I really
enjoyed our lunch conversation. Our discussion added confidence
concerning my potential as a blues vocalist. How are you doing?”
“Well Jenny, I am overwhelmed. It will be my great pleasure to meet Maurice. You have created positive and good feelings for me too. Life can take peculiar turns, often out of the blue. In our case out of the blues.”
“Call me after you meet with Maurice. My phone number is: 949-346-1174”
“I will definitely call you. I am so appreciative. You are fun to talk with.”
After talking with Jenny I was in a
zombie state. My mind was aimlessly adrift. I’ve never had a close
relationship with a woman, plagued with shyness, observing they tend to
be drawn to extroverted men. Jenny erased my introversion. I felt warmth
and comfort in her presence.
Friday night as I entered the bar for my performance a tall, well-dressed black man greeted me.
“Jason? I’m Maurice Jackson; I own and
operate the Blue Moon restaurant and lounge at Redondo Beach,
California. I have come to hear your performance recommended by Jenny
Schmidt. Jenny sings folk music one night a week at the Blue Moon.”
“Such a pleasure to meet you. I am awestruck that you would take time to visit and hear my performance”
“Please don’t be. We are a close-knit
group at the Blue Moon and it is impossible not to love Jenny she is
pure gold and I place great value on
her opinion of your musical talent. I will stay and listen for a while
and am hoping we can talk more. My plane leaves tomorrow at 4PM. I would
like you to join me for lunch tomorrow. I have a rental car and can
pick you up at whatever time is convenient.”
“I can be ready at 11AM”
Maurice was prompt, we chatted as we
drove to his hotel. Maurice displayed sincerity, no braggart talk. We
discussed the city’s vivid decay and the sadness of racial separation.
We sat in a quiet corner for lunch with a view of the city. Maurice
began opening his thoughts.
“Jason, you are a superb player. I
consider myself an expert on blues music, but it is impossible to say
who is, or was the greatest blues guitarist. Styles and deliveries
overlap forming musical abstractions. However, you are as good as I have
heard. Jenny has a great ear for musical greatness and I knew when she
described your playing my trip to Detroit would be a worthy effort.”
“I am humbled Maurice.”
“Blue’s pioneer W.C. Handy claimed blues
was introduced to him by an itinerant street guitarist at the train
station in Tutwiler, Mississippi in 1903. I have studied the early blues
musicians. To grade or compare these greats is impossible. Blues is characterized from an overall perspective, surfacing creatively in an array of patterns and shapes like musical snowflakes.”
“Jessie and I are impressed with Jenny. Her voice and demeanor are
a complete package of musical gift. Jenny feels like a square peg
trying to fit into a round hole regarding her acceptance as a blues
singer. Blues singers are traditionally black and as a white woman Jenny
feels out of place. I sincerely feel Jenny can accomplish blues
becoming accepted and admired.” “Humanity has been plagued with
disharmony since inception. Racial, religious and cultural intolerance
remains prominently influential. If opportunity
arises to embrace cross-racial identity and acceptance it must be
seized with enthusiasm. Music provides a potion, infusing tolerance. The
13th century Persian poet and Sufi mystic Rumi taught that music,
poetry and dance expose pathways to enlightenment. In my view Jenny
could not be in a better position to pursue blues and eventually I feel
she will agree. My goal is to encourage Jenny to work with Jessie,
gaining footing in blues, feeling her way slowly. In the meantime I will
offer you an opportunity. The quartet’s lead guitarist Bill Wright is a
long time friend and a superb musician. He’s 65 now and has expressed
to me a desire to reduce his weekly hours. I can offer you three days a
week playing with the quartet. I will sponsor you, fly you to
California, help you adjust and find a suitable residence. We will move
forward from this point. I can pay you 500 dollars a week. Does this
offer interest you?”
“You have seen where I live and perform, a
squalid section of the city. I accept with great appreciation. Music is
my life and your offer is received with graciousness.”
“Jason, I believe you have a future in
music. The Blue Moon’s quartet is among the best. An opportunity to play
with these fine musicians will significantly enhance your repertoire.”
As Maurice drove me home my head was spinning with expectation. All I could think of was to call Jenny.
“Jenny, this is Jason. It’s like a
miracle. Maurice has offered me a spot in the quartet as a fill in for
his aging lead guitar player. I will play three days a week for 500
dollars a week. He will fly me to California and help find me a place to
live. I am in a daze.”
“This is such wonderful news. I will meet
you at the airport gate when you arrive. Your life is taking a new
direction. You won’t believe how nice it is here and the quartet at the
Blue Moon is the best. It’s a perfect fit.”
In a few days an envelope arrived with a
plane ticket and 1000 dollars in travelers checks. I quit my job without
hesitation. Landing in L.A. was
exhilarating with thoughts running rampant combining joy and fear.
Jenny was waiting at the gate with her stunning smile. She hugged me,
draining my soul. What a grand day.
“Jason I am so excited that you will be
included in the quartet. Maurice found a nice studio apartment for you
at Redondo, within walking distance of the Blue Moon. The apartment is
partly furnished, enough to get started. Isn’t this great? I can’t
believe it is happening.”
That evening Jenny met me at the Blue
Moon introducing me to members of the quartet. I can’t recall a time in
my life when I felt this good. Bill Wright, expressed appreciation to
have a bit more time off. Jessie explained her interest in assisting
Jenny with her blues vocal development.
“Jenny’s voice is ideally suited for
blues in pitch and range. Soon I will present her as our guest vocalist.
We have been working on a few selected blues pieces. I am certain you
will be impressed. We are looking forward to you joining us. Bill has
big shoes to fill; he’s been a mainstay with us for a very long time.
Maurice says you are capable.”
I began rehearsing with the quartet. It
was such a joy to be included with such fine musicians and Jessie is the
heart and soul of the quartet. Jenny asked me to come that evening for
her folk music performance. I would not miss it for anything. She
greeted me at the bar.
“Thanks for coming Jason. I have been offered to perform at a nearby coffee shop on weekends. I also have been working hard with Jessie on my blues debut. I am very nervous over this.”
“Who wouldn’t be nervous? This is a major
direction change, new and challenging, also an opportunity. I hope I am
playing when you make your debut.”
Watching and listening to Jenny perform
was pure joy. This woman electrifies a room and her voice magnifies her
beauty revealing that Maurice and Jessie have identified her correctly.
Jenny is a talent with immense capacity.
I received a call from Bill Wright.
“Jason, the quartet is scheduled to
rehearse with Jenny for her blues debut. I feel it’s appropriate for you
to sit in on this. Jenny is your friend and it seems the right thing.
The rehearsal is at 10AM tomorrow. Can you make it?”
“Thanks Bill. I sure can and I am most
appreciative for your thoughtfulness. This is important to me. A great
opportunity for Jenny and me.”
The quartet met the next morning at the
Blue Moon. A good feeling flowed as I greeted the quartet. Jenny was
talking with Jessie and waved. Then Jessie spoke to us.
“OK guys, this is a big day for Jenny. I have been working with her on ‘Go Down Sunshine’ and she’s got it together good.
If things get off a bit I won’t interrupt, keep on playing and we can
make adjustments afterwards. I must say this is a milestone for me also.
I am Jenny’s friend and take responsibility for encouraging her to
pursue blues vocals. I am so looking forward to her debut.”
Maurice and Bill Wright entered taking seats at the bar. Silence fell as we did the lead in measure for “Go Down Sunshine”.
Jenny’s voice hit dead on time with tone
and depth far greater than I remembered her folk music voice. It was
astonishing, overflowing with emotion, exposing her heart. If it were
not for the drummer I would have surely lost beat. I was engulfed with gratitude to be sharing this moment with these musician and Jenny. I glanced at Bill Wright he nodded and smiled. He knew my feelings.
When Jenny finished Jessie was in tears hugging her friend and everyone stood, clapped and cheered. Jenny put her song out there with perfection and grace, shooting arrows in our hearts. Everyone gathered at the bar in a buzz over Jenny’s astounding performance knowing they had just witness greatness. Maurice was beaming with delight. Jessie asked for quiet.
“Now you know why I pressed Jenny to give
blues music a try. Can you imagine the fun it will be to expose Jenny
to the Blue Moon regulars? I want her to debut this coming Saturday
night when we have our largest crowd. It will be a night to remember.”
Bill Wright altered his days allowing me
to play on Jenny’s special night. I entered the Blue Moon and purposely
said very little to Jenny, only telling her how incredible she looked in
her black cocktail dress and hair up, assuring her that I would to give
her the best accompaniment I possibly could.
The crowd filtered in filling the room
with muted conversations. Jessie took the stage informing the customers
that they were in for a special treat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great
pleasure I present to you Ms Jenny Schmidt making her blues debut as the
Blue Moon’s guest vocalist.”
The crowd responded with polite applause.
Jenny displayed no nervousness, was solid
and confident. She sang “Go Down Sunshine” giving it her all. It was a
divine experience. The crowd responded with a standing ovation insisting
on an encore. Jenny selected “Piece of My Heart”. I nearly fell off my
chair.
The customers flocked around Jenny
congratulating her with compliments coming from everywhere. As Jessie
promised it was a night to remember. I couldn’t get near Jenny, but she
spotted me and smiled staring into my eyes. After work I slipped out
without speaking to Jenny who was engaged conversing with several new
fans. Tomorrow was my day off and had some deep thinking to do.
I decided to write Jenny a letter:
“Dear Jenny, my beautiful and gifted
friend. What a magnificent time this is for you. It’s now obvious that
Maurice and Jessie possessed insight beyond what you or I could have
imagined. It all has a feel of enchantment, impossible to describe. Last
night your performance took ownership of my spirit. I have never felt
such spontaneous emotion. I am familiar with the power of music to
command and dominate ones feelings, but never have I experienced musically aroused emotions so instinctually.
Your performance intensely magnifies your beauty, extending into a deep
place within, erupting, unleashing greatness, which is now firmly
attached to you forever.”
“My question to the world is: ‘How is it
possible for me to not be in love with Jenny?’ So much has happened, so
quickly, since that special night when we met at the Riverfront Bar.
From that moment I have felt comfort
in your presence. My feelings have grown since that moment to the
pinnacle they are now. I feel a need to talk with you about these
feelings. This may offer clarity and honesty regarding our future. I
don’t have high expectations, I only know I feel extreme joy and
gratitude knowing you and loving you. Jason”
Jenny called after she received my letter.
“Jason, I received your letter. Meet me at the beach pavilion near your apartment at 3PM. It’s important to me.”
“I’ll be there.”
I waited in the shade of the pavilion
feeling the cool breeze off the Pacific. I was not nervous or tense,
never have been around Jenny.
“Hey you, thanks for the letter, it made my day. We sure have come a long way in a short time. So much to talk about.”
“Thanks Jenny, so glad you came. It’s so nice here, such a splendid day.”
“Jason, I know I have a certain beauty,
it has carried me and largely responsible for my recognition. Physical
beauty has been a cultural power since the beginning of humanity. It’s a
blessing.”
“I have had two serious relationships with men; both struggled understanding
the proper definition of the two words, relationship and ownership.
They were both unsupportive in my quest to pursue music; insecure from
the attention I received. Your letter struck my heart. I also feel love
for you. You are a fine musician, and I gain similar emotions when I
hear you play as you do when you hear me sing blues.
We should form a blues duo; seek gigs with the help of Maurice and
Jessie. I feel right about this, we are cohesive, could be such a great
team.”
Numbness overcame me. No words came
forth. I knew I had to respond, but was so stunned, my mind froze. I
looked at Jenny in silence. A long, uncomfortable time lapsed. Jenny
smiled and this always melts my heart. I had to say something.
“Do you really think we can do that?”
“Of course, you are as good as any
guitarist alive. I want to pursue blues, see where it can take us. I
need your support as an accompanist, friend and companion. We can make
this work.”
So, we became Jenny and Jason a blues
duo. Maurice and Jessie were supportive. Maurice became our agent. We
began as an opening act for prominent concerts. This worked well and
also Maurice found selected clubs and lounges for us to perform. We
eventually were overwhelmed with bookings and audiences were very
responsive. Maurice convinced a record producer to cut an album of our
songs. This album sold well in the US and Europe. Jenny was the center
of our success, proving the power of the vocalist to occupy prominence
in blues music. Her magnetism took over, as audiences often would not
allow us off the stage. Maurice pushed to promote a concert in San
Francisco, advertised it well and we performed our first, very own
concert in a mid-sized venue. What a sensation, it was overwhelming.
After our encores we retreated to backstage. An usher handed Jenny a
note. She read the note; handing it to me, her face was beet red.
“Jenny and Jason: I apologize for being
unable to greet you backstage, but my manager and I had to leave early
to catch a plane to London. I must tell you I was completely taken by
your performance. It is my sincere hope that we can meet soon and talk
about blues. Maybe consider being guest performers at one of my concerts. Isn’t
blues a powerful musical expression? It’s been part of my life since I
was a teen. You two are magnificent. Keep up the good work. Janis
Joplin”
We now share a larger apartment on Redondo Beach and each day brings challenges and opportunities. One day as I returned opening the door Jenny was on the couch crying. I was startled.
“Why are you crying?”
“Janis Joplin died last night in a motel
room from a heroine overdose. She was 27 years old. I can’t get her out
of my mind, remembering the note she wrote to us. It’s so horrible. I
hate drugs with a passion.”
Tears formed in my eyes, it was a terrible shock to us both.
“Drugs killed my Mother too. Substances often creep into the lives of those attached to the arts. I read of
an English actor who portrayed the character Sherlock Holmes so many
times he became Sherlock Holmes, could not step out of character, which
ultimately destroyed him as he sought drugs as an escape. Earnest
Hemingway may have been the greatest writer of this century then as he
aged he lost ability to
organize thoughts into stories, leading to suicide fueled by alcohol.
Hemingway could not live without his writing. Artistic expressions can
entrap artists. I think music attaches itself in a similar fashion
becoming covetous. It is so uplifting and enlightening to perform music
and be recognized we must guard against becoming imprisoned by our
artistic gifts. Jenny, our partnering and bonding offers
us strength and support. Drugs and alcohol artificially block anxiety.
Janis drove herself to the limit with her musical talent. Her intensity
was displayed when she performed. She deposited her soul on the stage,
and the in between times offered only hollow, dark places, a complete
contrast from performing. Emptiness and loneliness overcame her. She was
thrust into a void, eagerly waiting to return to the stage. She sought
escape, slipped and fell down and never got up, leaving us who loved her
with pain and anguish. It’s so very, very sad.”
We cancelled our performance talking late
into the night discussing our future and made solemn promises to never
use drugs or be consumed by substances.
Gazing out the large window of our
apartment the view is blue sky melding with blue water as the sun lowers
into the vast expanse of the Pacific. Jenny is dozing on the balcony
with two cats playing at her feet. The sunset casts diffused light
accenting this mood of contentment reminding me of Jenny’s debut song
“Go Down Sunshine”.
Pathways are amorphous, often coming
forth unadulterated, escaping predictability. Direction and purpose can
be elusive as some meander, wandering endlessly, searching. Others
discover flecks of gold as they wash the sands of time in their pan of life.
First appeared in the Literary Yard
~Raymond Greiner
