Paramount 12790 – Charlie Spand – 1929

Posted on May 8, 2025 by R. Connor Montgomery

Gaining fame in Detroit and Chicago during the Roaring Twenties, piano man Charlie Spand was both a pioneer of boogie-woogie and a highly regarded bluesman both during and after his life. Yet as is too often the case with such musicians, despite his success and popularity, little is known of Spand outside of his sporadic recording career.

For many years, it was thought that Charlie Spand may have hailed from Alabama, Georgia, or Louisiana. Thanks to the groundbreaking research of Bob Eagle and Eric LeBlanc, it is now believed that Spand was born on May 8, 1893, in Columbus, Mississippi. The activities of his early life are largely unknown, but it is evident that he became a proficient piano player by young adulthood. He may have served in the First World War; service records exist for one or more Charlie Spands, but it is difficult to ascertain if they are the same one. A participant of the Great Migration, Spand had relocated to Detroit by the early 1920s, where he made a name for himself alongside Texas pianists Will Ezell and Hersal Thomas on the boogie-woogie scene burgeoning on Hastings and Brady Streets. By the end of that decade, he had moved on to Chicago, where he lodged at 732 East 45th Street (to which he referred in his 1929 recording of “45th St. Blues”, a variant of James “Stump” Johnson’s popular “The Snitchers Blues” of the previous year).

Under the auspices of their race records manager Aletha Dickerson, Spand made his recording debut for Paramount Records on June 6, 1929, at the Richmond, Indiana, facilities of Gennett Records, waxing two sides of barrelhouse piano boogie-woogie, backed by stalwart guitarist Blind Blake. His first record sold quite well, and he was called upon to record further for Paramount, subsequently returning to their recording laboratories every month until October of 1929 (and we know what happened at the end of that one), then in September of both 1930 and ’31, producing a grand total of twenty-six sides—notwithstanding alternate takes—of which all but three were issued, plus a guest spot on Paramount’s “Hometown Skiffle” record featuring their top stars. His second session, on August 17, 1929, produced his most enduring recording, the rollicking “Hastings St.”, a piano and guitar duet with Blind Blake dedicated to the Detroit boogie hot spot of the same name. There is debate as to the identity of Spand’s accompanist for the rest of the same session, with some proposing an early appearance by Josh White, and others suggesting Blake or another guitarist. As the Great Depression hit bottom in the early 1930s, record companies were hit hard, and Paramount ceased operations in 1932, thus Spand would not record again for nearly a decade. His activities over the course of that decade are largely unknown; blues and jazz researcher and later owner of the Paramount label John Steiner reported that Spand may have worked with Will Ezell and Blind Leroy Garnett at Cripple Clarence Lofton’s Big Apple Tavern on South State Street in Chicago during the 1930s. When he finally did return to the microphone, the year was 1940, and it was for Okeh Records—just in time for the boogie-woogie craze. In two sessions, one week apart, Spand produced his swan song of eight final titles, still in excellent form. He was accompanied on guitar on the former date by Memphis Minnie’s husband Little Son Joe Lawlars, and on the latter by an unknown guitarist identified by some sources as Big Bill Broonzy. Despite the concurrent success of fellow boogie pioneers like Meade “Lux” Lewis, these records did not seem to see big sales, and he returned to obscurity.

Spand’s later life and eventual fate are unknown; some said that he moved to California after World War II, while others have claimed that he lived in Chicago as late as the 1970s. The 1940 census reported a Mississippi-born Charles Spand living at 4340 South Evans Avenue, employed as a “water man” and married to a woman named Elizabeth—ten years later she was still living at the same address and reported herself as widowed, so it is uncertain if this was the same Spand, though many details seem to be a match. He was photographed at some point in the 1940s with piano great Jimmy Yancey at the latter’s Chicago apartment, looking rather gaunt but indeed still alive at that time. Fellow pianist Little Brother Montgomery, who knew Spand in his earlier years, claimed that he was still active in Chicago as late as 1958. A death certificate issued for one Charles Spand residing at 4055 South Ellis Avenue in Chicago, Illinois—born around 1899 in Columbus, Mississippi—shows that he died on March 31, 1959, and was buried five days later at Burr Oak Cemetery; while no positive identification has yet been made, it seems quite probable that this was indeed the “our” Spand.

Paramount 12790 was recorded June 6, 1929, at the Starr Piano Company (Gennett) studio in Richmond, Indiana, and was released aronbd August of the same year. It is both Spand’s first recorded and first released record. Spand plays the piano and sings, accompanied on the guitar by Blind Blake (though some have cast doubt on this identification, proposing alternative possibilities including the elusive Freezone). Apparently, Paramount, being the consummate professionals that they were, also issued the 12790 catalog number to a record by Hattie McDaniels (of future Gone With the Wind fame).

While perhaps overshadowed by the success of the other song, “Fetch Your Water” is a fine piece of piano blues, and certainly deserving of recognition.

Fetch Your Water, recorded June 6, 1929 by Charlie Spand

Although allotted to the record’s “B” side, “Soon This Morning Blues” was in fact Spand’s first recording, and a signature number of his. It proved to be the more influential side of the two, becoming something of a barrelhouse standard, covered and adapted by many subsequent piano bluesmen (such as Walter Roland) and others, though—like perhaps most such songs—it drew heavily on earlier blues songs itself. Spand himself followed it up with “Soon This Morning No. 2” in both 1930 and 1940.

Soon This Morning Blues, recorded June 6, 1929 by Charlie Spand.

Paramount 12855 – Will Ezell – 1929

Posted on December 23, 2024 by R. Connor Montgomery

At Old Time Blues, we have developed a tradition of honoring both the legends and the lost of recorded American music—and quite often both are one and the same. In that vein, let us take a look herein at the life and career of Texas native ragtime pianist, boogie-woogie pioneer, and Paramount recording star Will Ezell, and a record that some have hailed as the birth of rock ‘n’ roll.

William Ezell was born in Brenham, Texas, on December 23, 1892, one of six children born to Lorenza and Rachel Ezell. Beginning in his teenage years, Will was playing piano in juke joints and lumber camp barrelhouses around eastern Texas and western Louisiana—the country where boogie-woogie was born. As an itinerant piano player, Ezell was known to have played in various locations from Dallas to New Orleans, where he was living by the time of the First World War. It was perhaps during this time in Louisiana that he encountered blues singer Elzadie Robinson—a native of the Shreveport area—and the two struck up something of a partnership. Around 1925, Ezell and Robinson traveled north to Chicago, where they made their phonograph recording debut for the New York Recording Laboratories of Port Washington, Wisconsin, manufacturers of Paramount Records. Subsequently, between 1926 and 1931, Ezell recorded somewhat prolifically for Paramount, both solo and as an accompanist. He became well known around Chicago as well as Detroit, alongside Charlie Spand and fellow Texas pianist Hersal Thomas. A few of his notable piano recordings include “Barrel House Man”, “Heifer Dust”, “Mixed Up Rag”, “Bucket of Blood”, and “Pitchin’ Boogie”. As an accompanist, Ezell played piano behind such blues singers as Lucille Bogan, Bertha Henderson, Side Wheel Sally Duffie, Blind Roosevelt Graves, and of course Elzadie Robinson. In 1929, he appeared with Blind Lemon Jefferson, Blind Blake, Papa Charlie Jackson, Charlie Spand, and the Hokum Boys on the “Hometown Skiffle”, a “descriptive novelty” record featuring Paramount’s top stars. It has been reported, of uncertain veracity, that Paramount commissioned Ezell to escort the body of their star recording artist Blind Lemon Jefferson home to Texas upon his untimely demise in late 1929. When the Great Depression struck and severely affected Paramount’s recording activities, Ezell’s output slowed considerably, and he made his final known recordings in early 1931, accompanying Sam “Slim” Tarpley on one record. Although he made no further recordings, his existing body of work began to see reissues as early as the 1940s. Subsequently, he reportedly went back on the road, returning for a time to Louisiana, before settling in Chicago permanently by the end of the 1930s, where he found work for the WPA. According to John Steiner—who revived the Paramount label in the late 1940s—Ezell later made appearances alongside fellow former Paramount artists Blind Leroy Garnett and Charlie Spand at the Big Apple Tavern in Chicago, owned by prolific pianist Cripple Clarence Lofton. Ezell called Chicago his home for the rest of his life, and he died there on August 2, 1963.

Paramount 12855 was recorded at the Starr Piano Company’s recording laboratory in Richmond, Indiana, on September 20, 1929. Will Ezell is on the piano, and is accompanied by Blind Roosevelt Graves on guitar, his brother Uaroy Graves on tambourine, and probably “Baby Jay” James on cornet.

Ezell’s hard-driving “Pitchin’ Boogie” is often suggested to be an early antecedent of rock ‘n’ roll, with its stomping barrelhouse piano beat coupled with the guitar and cornet of the Graves brothers’ Mississippi Jook Band making for a prototype of the early rock band lineup.

Pitchin’ Boogie, recorded September 20, 1929 by Will Ezell.

On the “B” side (which the original owner evidently enjoyed more than the former), “Just Can’t Stay Here” dishes out more of the same stuff, but arranged more as a standard twelve-bar blues song than a rent party rollick.

Just Can’t Stay Here, recorded September 20, 1929 by Will Ezell.

Paramount 12650 – Blind Lemon Jefferson – 1928

Posted on September 24, 2024 by R. Connor Montgomery

Back in the days of 78 RPM, it was not an altogether uncommon sight to find records bearing elaborate and often colorful “picture labels” (not to be confused with picture discs), individuating special releases or records by big-time hit-makers from the hoi polloi. The Columbia company was perhaps the chief exploiter of this gimmick, issuing special label designs on many discs by their stars Paul Whiteman and Ted Lewis in the 1920s, and one more on their subsidiary Okeh for Seger Ellis. On the other hand, the New York Recording Laboratory of Port Washington, Wisconsin, manufacturer of Paramount records produced only three such picture labels, which were used for only three different records; the first was in 1924 for their top star “Ma” Rainey, the next for white preacher Rev. J.O. Hanes in 1927, and finally, in 1928, one for their new big moneymaker, Blind Lemon Jefferson.

On a striking bright label of white and (appropriately) lemon yellow—in stark contrast to Paramount’s standard black and gold design—were emblazoned the words “Blind Lemon Jeffersons’ [sic] Birthday Record”. As to exactly what day it was celebrating, that is not concretely known. The most commonly agreed upon date attributed to Lemon Jefferson’s birth is September 24, 1893, supported by both the 1900 and 1910 United States censuses, but others have been suggested. Lemon himself gave a date of October 26, 1894, to one Edward Seaman, registrar of his 1917 draft card, which also seems to be supported by his reported age of twenty-five in the 1920 census. His 1930 obituary in the Wortham Journal gave his age as forty-five, suggesting he was born as early as 1884. Others still have proposed a birth date of July 11, 1897. Some oddities exist surrounding Lemon’s census records, which further complicates matters. In his entry in the 1900 census, the enumerator, one Leonard Carrier, appears to have reported his birth date as “Sept 24”, with the number written in small print above the month, despite the fact that dates of birth were not recorded in that census, only months, and no other birth dates were recorded for other individuals in the same or adjacent pages. Why then, did Mr. Carrier seemingly write down the full date of birth for Lemon and only Lemon? Did he somehow foresee that this six-year-old blind boy would one day be a star, and this information would be valuable one-hundred years from then? Did Lemon’s mother or father give the full date (which incidentally is the only date or month recorded for the entire Jefferson family) and he decided to write it down for the heck of it, despite no space for it being given? Or could this errant “24” have some other obscure meaning, perhaps lost to time? Those are questions which I, at this time, cannot answer. Perhaps some census expert may have better insight. The same census also reported Lemon’s name as “Jefferson, Lemmon\Bl”, which has been misinterpreted to mean that Lemon’s real, full name was “Lemmon B. Jefferson”. That is not the case—in fact, the “Bl” next to his name was to denote his blindness (some censuses contained a separate column to indicate whether the subject was blind, but 1900 did not); so it seems that, at least by the United States federal government, he was already dubbed “Blind Lemon Jefferson” by the age of six. The anomalous spelling of “Lemmon” can be easily discounted as well, for the census was taken orally and filled out be the enumerator, thus numerous spelling errors are present. In any event, Lemon’s “Birthday Record” was released to the public in August of 1928, which could be interpreted as belatedly celebrating his July birthday, or preemptively celebrating his September birthday—that is assuming it was not simply a marketing gimmick irrespective of the actual date of his birth, a prospect that may well be the most probable.

Paramount 12650 was recorded circa March and June of 1928, respectively, and was released in August of the same year, with the first advertisement for it appearing in the Chicago Defender on August 4, 1928.

“Piney Woods Money Mama” is one of Lemon;s lyrical masterworks, one of many songs he recorded which appear to be mostly original, rather than drawn from the “floating verse” tradition, as so many blues songs of his day were. “She got ways like the devil and hair like a Injun squaw; she’s been tryin’ two years to get me to be her son-in-law.”

Piney Woods Money Mama, recorded c. March 1928 by Blind Lemon Jefferson.

On the “B” side, the hoodoo-tinged “Low Down Mojo Blues” is perhaps not as memorable a song as the former, but still a testament to Lemon’s songwriting genius and expressive guitar playing.

Low Down Mojo Blues, recorded c. June 1928 by Blind Lemon Jefferson

Paramount 12389 – Bo Weavil Jackson – 1926

Posted on August 1, 2021 by R. Connor Montgomery

The life and times of the musician known as Bo Weavil Jackson are shrouded beneath a veil of mystery and obscurity; even his true identity remains an uncertainty. In fact, it would be difficult to know less about a person. He made six records, had a remarkably poorly lit photograph taken of him, and then disappeared into oblivion. This intrigue, of course, only serves to enhance his appeal as a bluesman, much as it might confound historians.

The man called “Bo Weavil” is said to have truly been named James Jackson (or perhaps James Butler or Sam Butler) and is believed to have hailed from Alabama, probably born sometime in the 1890s. Queries of public records reveal far too many possible results to be narrowed down by the few vague details known. Indeed, he referred to Birmingham in his “Jefferson County Blues”. He was playing for spare change on a Birmingham street corner when he was “discovered” by record salesman and talent scout Harry Charles in 1926, who referred him to Chicago to make some records for Paramount, by whom he was promoted as having “come down from the Carolinas.” There, he waxed six sides, including a version of “When the Saints Come Marching Home” and perhaps the first recording of “Crow Jane”, which are counted among the earliest recordings of country blues by a male performer, in the wake of Blind Lemon Jefferson’s historic debut recordings with the same company only a few months prior. The following month, Bo Weavil headed to New York to cut another six sides for Vocalion (two of which were unissued but exist in the form of test pressings), this time under the moniker “Sam Butler”. His recordings reveal that he was a nimble slide guitarist with a unique approach to performance, and his repertoire consisted of a mixture of blues and sacred songs. What became of Bo Weavil after his brief recording career drew to a close is entirely unknown; perhaps he went back home to Alabama, perhaps he started a new life in New York, perhaps he got run over by a freight train trying to hobo his way back south—we may never know. Purportedly, another man adopted the moniker of “Bo Weavil Jackson” in the Mississippi Delta in the decade following “Sam Butler’s” recording career.

Paramount 12389 was recorded around August of 1926 in Chicago, Illinois. It is Bo Weavil Jackson’s first released record, consisting of his third and first recorded sides, respectively, and quite certainly his best-selling.

Firstly, Bo Weavil Jackson demonstrates his eccentric and unpredictable slide guitar work on his tour de force “You Can’t Keep No Brown” (though the last line in the song coupled with the absence of the title verse suggests that perhaps it should have been titled “Long Distance Blues”). He recorded an entirely different version of this song for Vocalion, but this one, if you could compare the two, is the superior version in my opinion.

You Can’t Keep No Brown, recorded c. August 1926 by Bo Weavil Jackson.

On the “B” side, Bo Weavil sings “Pistol Blues”, which is in actuality a rendition of the folk blues “Crow Jane”; while Julius Daniels’ 1927 recording of “Crow Jane Blues” is often cited as the first recording of the song, Bo Weavil’s predates it by more than a year.

Pistol Blues, recorded c. August 1926 by Bo Weavil Jackson.

Updated with improved audio on July 5, 2024.

Paramount 12637 – Ramblin’ Thomas – 1928

Posted on February 14, 2020 by R. Connor Montgomery

Out of the marshlands of northwestern Louisiana, where the Sabine River demarcates the edge of Texas, came Willard Thomas, a rambling character whose mournful singing and sliding steel guitar would epitomize the sound of a world where the blues was all around.

Willard Thomas was born in Logansport, Louisiana, right on the Texas border, around 1902, one of at least eight children of farmers Joel and Laura Thomas. His father played fiddle and Willard and his two brothers, Joel Jr. and Jesse, took up the guitar. Thomas purchased a guitar from the Sears-Roebuck catalog, which came with a metal slide for playing Hawaiian steel guitar. Making good use of the hardware, he taught himself to play slide guitar in a rather idiosyncratic style, though also proving to be a fairly versatile player. Like many bluesmen in the region, Thomas took up in Deep Ellum in Dallas, alongside the likes of Blind Lemon Jefferson, Coley Jones, and Huddie Ledbetter. He made his way around San Antonio and Oklahoma, where he no doubt encountered other musicians, such as “Texas” Alexander., and reportedly even associated with King Solomon Hill in Shreveport, with whom he shared some elements of musical style. At some point along the way, he picked up the nickname “Ramblin'” Thomas, attributable either to his style of living or his style of playing, if not both. Perhaps at the behest of Blind Lemon Jefferson, who had a session around the same time, Dallas music seller R.T. Ashford arranged for Thomas venture to Chicago, Illinois, in February of 1928 for a session with Paramount Records, netting a total of eight titles of which all were released. He returned to Chicago that November for another seven titles, including a memorable rendition of the blues staple “Poor Boy Blues” (a.k.a. “Poor Boy, Long Ways From Home”), and possibly accompanied fellow Texas blues singer Moanin’ Bernice Edwards on another two. Finally, he made four recordings for Victor in their field trip to Dallas in February of 1932, one of which—”Ground Hog Blues”—bears considerable resemblance to Jimmie Rodgers’ “Blue Yodel No. 10 (Ground Hog Rootin’ in My Back Yard)”, recorded three days earlier at the same sessions; Jesse Thomas would later claim that Rodgers’ Blue Yodel was inspired by his brother’s song. Willard Thomas reportedly died of tuberculosis around 1944 or ’45 in Memphis, Tennessee. Outside of his recording career, most details surrounding Thomas’ life remain shrouded in obscurity. Brother Jesse “Babyface” Thomas also performed fairly prolifically over a lengthy career, recording first in Dallas in 1929, then reemerging after World War II as the “Blues Troubadour” on a number of different labels.

Paramount 12637 was recorded in February of 1928 in Chicago, Illinois, featuring Willard Thomas singing and accompanying himself on slide guitar. Be advised before listening that this rare record is in pretty sorry shape. I’ve tried to get it as listenable as I can with the resources available to me, but it’s about the worst sounding record I’ll ever post on Old Time Blues (I have some dignity, you see). If your ears can’t stomach the noise, I wouldn’t blame you—you can go on over to YouTube and look it up in better quality (I recommend this transfer).

First, Thomas plays and sings his mournful slide guitar opus, “So Lonesome”, the first title recorded at his first session and one of his best remembered songs.