Jay Mayo "Ink" Williams being interviewed on local television. It's nice to see him as a dapper old gent. Every other picture of the man that I've seen comes from his college days.

Babies eat time. I'll try to catch everyone up on my activities because I know you've been worried.

Friday I went to the Regenstein Library at U of C to visit the John Steiner collection of jazz memorabilia. The archivist, Deborah Gillaspie, was quite accommodating and set me up with a CD transcription of an interview Steiner did with gospel legend Thomas Dorsey and, the subject of my ongoing research project, Jay Mayo Williams. Gillaspie told me I was the first person to hear the tape since Steiner recorded it, which added a archaeological frisson to the proceedings (What do you see, Howard Carter? "Wonderful things!!!"). I've read interview transcriptions, I've seen photos, and I've stood on the man's grave, but this is the first time I heard Williams' voice. It is not exaggerating things to say that he finally came alive for me.

Williams must have been in his late 70s when the interview was conducted, his voice cracked and faded with age, but his mind still sharp. Regrettably, it wasn't an interview about him specifically; more of a typical gathering of minutae on band personnel. Which is important, but it seems like a generation of jazz historians approached the music as if they were trading baseball cards. "Who played cornet?" "Oh, that was Jimmy 'Slats' Pantaloons. Jimmy liked to eat swiss cheese before a show and..." "All right, who played second cornet?" And so on. Steiner let Dorsey and Williams talk, but as so often happens when I hear an interview from decades ago (1972 in this case) it becomes a frustrating experience. "Ask him about the first time he recorded Blind Lemon Jefferson and Blind Blake, man!" I want to shout. There were one or two quotable bits about Jelly Roll Morton ("a braggart") and the way mice used to chew up the old 78 wax masters en route to the pressing plant at least. Still, it was good to hear his voice at last.

Peanut the Kidnapper

I knew you wouldn't believe me. Well, here, Mr. Doubtypants.

At least now, if Mike and I have a child, we have a name all picked out.

Finally talked to Bob Koester of Delmark Records and Jazz Record Mart about Black Patti records and Jay Mayo Williams. What a nice fellow. It's a trip to hear someone talk about hanging out with blues and jazz musicians who seem more like folk heroes than regular people. I asked if we could talk at length again sometime, and he said that would be fine. I have a book idea in mind, and when I shared it with Tim Samuelson (kind of a folk hero himself, if you're into Chicago history and architecture) he said, "You know, I always hoped someone would cover that subject."

Yes, I do require constant positive reinforcement. Whinge.

Also, note to self: Try really, really hard not to erase 20 minutes of an interview, dumbass. Fortunately, Mr. Koester was amenable to repeating himself. True devotees WANT to tell the great stories again and again. Thank God.

I rewatched Crumb this weekend. At one point he puts a Black Patti record on the phonograph. However, the accompanying song on the soundtrack, "Last Kind Word Blues" by Geechie Wiley, wasn't recorded for Black Patti. It was recorded for Paramount.

Then I achieved anal-retentive geek nirvana.

I just interviewed Joe Bussard about Black Pattis and 78 rpm records. What a pleasant and entertaining fellow. He regaled me for an hour and a half with stories about record-collecting in the 50s and 60s (describing finding stacks of store-new copies of Robert Johnson and other 78s in towns that were never on any map) and meeting with folks like Ralph Stanley and lesser-known bluegrass, country, and blues people. I have to admit that I was nervous and ready for him to be a crotchety old coot, but he wasn't. You can feel the love the man has for old-time music. I think it thrills him when a relative youngster like myself shows an interest.

Also, he invited me to stop by and hang out some time. I'm there, man. He's 71, so I guess I better make it soon.

What ho? You can make 78 labels too! I thought xgray was only pulling old Dan's leg.

So, a year ago I was gung-ho about writing a book about 78 collectors. Yet, the more I dug, the more I discovered that these guys were already pretty well covered. In some cases—and Lord knows I shouldn't be one to judge—the collectors come across as rather unpleasant and back-biting individuals, obsessed with the minutiae of recording history without paying attention to the men and women behind it (or maybe they were just bad when it came to writing about emotions and personalities; or maybe they were just bad writers). I was not, let us say, inspired to subject myself to that sort of attitude. Still, one or two of the collectors that I contacted were nice enough and interested in talking. I didn't follow up on any interviews once I decided that the book wouldn't hold my interest and, indeed, might be painful to write.

One of the good ones was Bob Koester, who runs Jazz Record Mart in Chicago. It took a while, but Mr. Koester answered my e-mail and told me to stop by on certain days of the week if I wanted to talk. Since I visit the store pretty regularly, the following week I was stopping by to browse and buy some new tunes. Koester was there, working, so I thought I'd approach him and introduce myself. He was gruff but friendly and ready to go on with the interview then and there, but I explained that I didn't have my tape recorder and asked for a rain check. He was fine with that. Of course, the project evaporated and I never followed up on the interview.

Now I'm working on this Black Patti piece, and I figured he'd be a good guy to talk to. I've been dragging my heels because (1) I'm pretty shy when it comes to interviews and (2) I've been waiting for my digital recorder to arrive.

Anyway.

Today I stopped by Jazz Record Mart, and while browsing I picked up a book about the blues. I checked the index to see if there was any mention of Mayo Williams (the manager at Black Patti). Only two references, but when I flipped to them I came across a passage about Williams recommending that this female blues artist approach—ta dah—Bob Koester about recording. Koester has been involved in blues and jazz since the 50s or earlier. In fact, he's listed as a major player in the back of Gayle Dean Wardlow's book Chasin' That Devil's Music.

So, I better get off my ass and see if he'll still agree to an interview, eh? Especially since the guy is 75.

Bad writer.

One of the cool things about having a wife who's a teacher... She has access to all sorts of online libraries, including back issues of the Chicago Defender... which ran Black Patti ads. I've seen these ads run in 78 Quarterly, but not this large or sharp.