Jerry “Boogie” McCain June 19, 1930 – March 28, 2012

Photo courtesy Tim and Denise Duffy. Jerry “Boogie” McCain, Gadsden, Alabama,
1994.
“Denise and I met ‘Boogie’ in 1995 and we made an acoustic record in a nearby hotel
room. When we finished the session, I asked Jerry, ‘After so many decades of bad
record deals, what would make you happy?’ He replied, “I want a $10,000 advance and I
will make a GREAT electric blues record.’ I shelved our humble recording and in 1999, I
arranged a deal with Cello Recordings. Jerry got his advance…and he created the
greatest album of his career, “This Stuff Just Kills Me.’”
JERRY "BOOGIE" McCAIN: YEAH, I'M STILL OUT HERE.
By Larry Benicewicz. for bluesworld dot com
THE EARLY YEARS.
Country harp player extraordinaire Jerry McCain reminds me very much of his
contemporary, Leslie Johnson, better known as Lazy Lester. Both are real throwbacks to
an earlier generation of blues players and crusty survivors of whatever fate has dealt out
to them. Ageless wonders, their bodies are still lean, lanky, and sinewy wind machines
of perpetual motion, although, Jerry, much to his chagrin, recently aggravated an old
lower back injury at the Baltimore Blues Society's Alonzo's Picnic on the Labor Day
Weekend while doing his usual, highly active stage routine, a misfortune which forced
the cancellation of his scheduled junket abroad to Finland.
Stylistically, both Jerry and Lester play a brand of traditional harmonica licks which,
though raw and rough around the edges, get the job done. McCain's brand certainly is
more of the raucous, exuberant and "in your face" style than the understated and
obviously more subtle approach of the latter's Swamp Blues. But most importantly the
two are able to convey the feeling of the song through their masterful control of the
instrument, a threshold which separates the men from the boys. In short, they play with
an exceptional amount of soul. Finally, both Jerry and Lester, speaking from a
perspective of fifty years in the blues business have become philosophers. And
possessed of wry wits, neither is afraid to express his opinion.
When I booked Lester at the Cat's Eye Pub in Baltimore on a Sunday night, I told him
that many in the potential walk-up audience had balked at paying the five dollar
admission to his show and, instead, went around the block to the Full Moon Saloon's
blues jam, normally a no-cover affair. "Well, I been over there before. I guess they'd
rather hear noise for free," he said with a knowing wink. In like manner, Jerry McCain,
also speaks his mind on any subject, from music to current events. And talk about blues
stories. When interviewing these two seasoned old pros, one had better be prepared
with a pile of 90 minute cassettes because they will quickly go off on a tangent,
embellishing upon some ancient exploit, usually of the macho variety, a showdown
wherein they invariably steal the thunder from another renowned figure. And even when
I'm able to eventually return them to the topic at hand, I still find it difficult to separate
truth from fiction, so incredible are some of the tales these two will tell.
So, I'll just do my able best at reporting and issue a caveat--reader beware. Jerry
McCain was born on June 19, 1930 and still abides in Gadsden, AL, a small town in the
northeast of that state equidistant between Huntsville and Birmingham. One of five
children, he grew up in rather humble circumstances. "We was po', po'. When he was
younger, my father was a sharecropper that worked a mule to death in Talladega. That's
where the race course is now but then it was a cotton track. In fact, he might have
plowed it, too," said Jerry.
Jerry's first exposure to blues came in the form of two popular itinerant street musicians
that would regularly traverse the streets of his neighborhood. "They were sort of a Mutt
and Jeff. The tall one was named Chick and the other Shorty. They'd play off each other
and were so good and tight that they'd never ever have to buy a drink," said Jerry. Just a
child, he'd follow this "dynamic duo" all around town and to humor him they would let
him sit in and accompany them--up to a point. "One night, they led me to a liquor house
and I had to stay outside and listen to them because I was too young to enter. I was
never so scared in my life, so traumatized, because I used to believe in those stories
about boogie bears and goblins and the such," he added in his thick Alabama accent.
Nonetheless, Jerry persevered and he, himself, became a familiar character in
Gadsden, hanging on corners and serenading the passers-by for tips. Eventually in his
teens he earned a regular radio slot over local station WETO fronting a jug band, which
included a rubboard and a fretless homemade bass that Jerry fashioned out of an inner
tube (for the strings), a board, and a five-gallon tin (bottom). From his depiction, this
show seemed to follow a format similar to the storied King Biscuit Time which then
featured harp great Sonny Boy Williamson II (Aleck Miller), guitarist Willie Love, and
drummer James "Peck" Curtis, and carried over KFFA in Helena, AR, beginning in 1941,
when "race music" could first be listened to over the airwaves. "Back in the 30s, when I
was growing up, the only way this music was heard was in the juke joints.
Otherwise, it was Country and Western performers like Tennessee Ernie Ford," Jerry
said. For years, Jerry, hoping for a chance at a recording contract, was obsessed with
cutting a record and after saving enough money would often journey over to a studio on
Shuler Ave in Alabama City to make an 78 rpm acetate which he would mail away to any
record label that might give it a listen. "It was like goin' fishin'. It seemed like years
before I finally got a bite. I received a lot of replies but no takers," said Jerry. One lucky
break came in the early 50s, when he was spending a good bit of time at Will and
Elmer's Cafe in Gadsden and was shopping for the right guitarist. "I was looking for
someone who could not only play a shuffle but could also make the changes in the right
places. This guy, Christopher Collins, came along.
At first I had my doubts when he said he was from Wood's Bend in Cherokee County,
which is really in the woods. But after my audition, I finally found the right man," said
Jerry. And local carpenter, Preacher Hart, must have agreed as well because he took
the money from a divorce settlement and invested it in buying the equipment for Jerry's
band--amplifiers, microphones, and drums--in exchange for being its manager.
Jerry remembered being heavily influenced by Little Walter (Jacobs) who had a big hit in
1952 on Checker records (a subsidiary of Chess), "Juke" bw "Can't Hold Out Much
Longer (758)." In fact, Jerry had met the celebrated harp player, a troubled genius with
an equally legendary aggressive and quarrelsome nature, when he paid a call to
Gadsden on a promotional tour for that very same chart maker. "Walter came to town to
play just down the road from us and the first thing he'd ask anyone was where he could
get his hands on some corn liquor. He didn't like that store-bought stuff. So, my brother
Roosevelt, we called him Snook, before the show drove him around with me in the back
seat to all the local bootleggers. I started singing and doing "Can't Hold Out" and Walter
was impressed enough to start calling me "Junior" and let me sit in at his concert.
He was such a gracious person to let me strut my stuff like I did. He wasn't at all like
Little Sonny [Aaron Willis, born in Greensboro, AL, in 1932 who recorded for Duke, JVB,
and Excello] who was suspicious of me and afraid I'd show him up in Detroit a little later
on, which I did, especially when I played the harmonica with my nose," said Jerry. After
Little Walter's visit, Jerry became inspired to write and remembered composing "Wine-o-
wine," while sitting on the bank of a creek. Then, one of the Deep South independent
labels that Jerry McCain was so assiduously courting was that of the Diamond
Recording, Inc. run by Lillian McMurry. She had a small, primitive studio in the back of
her furniture store on Farish St. in downtown Jackson, MS, and managed to release
over a 100 or so disks, mostly 78 rpm, in the very late 40s to mid-50s on Trumpet,
including outstanding efforts by country blues artists like Elmore James and the
aforementioned Sonny Boy Williamson and Willie Love.
Her distribution network was always inadequate and when she did record a winner, she
would most likely lease the master to another Jackson-based producer, Johnny Vincent
(Imbragulio), who, as former producer for Art Rupe of Specialty (he recorded Guitar
Slim's "The Things That I Used To Do") had many connections in the industry and who
also would often avail himself of her facility, as well as Cosimo Matassa's J&M studio at
Dumaine and Rampart in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Among McMurry's
personal triumphs on Trumpet were Elmore James's signature "Dust My Broom" and
Williamson's "No Nights By Myself," released, respectively, as #508 and #511 on
Vincent's Ace label.
Evidently, after hearing a demo preferred by McCain, she agreed to give the band a
look-see, an audition which would entail a round trip of over 600 miles from Gadsden. "I
had a good group with Bernard Williams on tenor, Dave Campbell on piano, Herman
Fowlkes on bass, and old standby, Chris Carter, on guitar; that is, everybody except my
older brother, Walter, who couldn't drum worth shit, but thought he was the boss of this
outfit because he owned a car," said Jerry.A session was arranged for October 10, 1953
and four sides were recorded including "East Of The Sun" and "Wine-o-Wine," which
were issued as Trumpet 217. "Everybody always speaks highly of Lillian McMurry and
how fair she was, but the deal she offered me was a half-cent a record sold. I know that
it wasn't a smash but, even if it were, how's any artist gonna make any money that way.
You be the judge," he exclaimed.

When Jerry recalled his first single, he seemed almost embarrassed by his youthful,
nasal voice--all high register notes, but the record sold substantially enough in the region
to warrant another trip to the studio just over a year after his first, November 4, 1954.
This lineup also included Williams, Campbell, and Collins, but added J.V. Turner on
second guitar, Raz Roseby on bass, and Junior Blackman on drums, who replaced
brother Walter. Five songs were cut and another single was released, "Stay Out Of
Automobiles" bw "Love To Make Up (Trumpet 231)," the former comedic tune another
Jerry McCain composition. "That song was dedicated to all the car trouble we had in that
old Dodge just getting over to Jackson to record. We had so many blow outs with those
bald tires that I thought people were shootin' at us.
When I look back on it, I wonder how we made it," said Jerry with a hearty laugh. And
commenting about the sessions, themselves, Jerry was never at a loss for words. "I
don't think I was ever so nervous as when I was over in Jackson. Now, don't get me
wrong. We had racism over in Alabama, but nowhere like in Mississippi. I half expected
the Ku Klux Klan or a lynch mob to show up at the furniture store. I was shaking so
much I could hardly stand up and kept watchin' my back," he said. After surviving the
evening, Jerry remembered the next day running into the cantankerous harp exponent
Sonny Boy Williamson, who offered him some "tea" at a small cafe near the store on
Farish St. "He's the second one I think to recognize my talent by calling me 'Junior.' But I
declined his drink when he pulled out his bottle of whisky and set it on the table in that
booth. That was his idea of tea, not mine," said Jerry about the bluesman who was in
town during both of Jerry's visits to the studio and, in fact, used the very same sidemen
who, outside of Collins, were probably some of McMurry's standby house musicians.
"Stay Out Of Automobiles" fared no better than his first attempt and as one of McMurry's
last releases remains a cherished collector's item, especially on a vinyl 45 rpm. Not long
after, Diamond Recording, Inc. went belly up, another mom and pop label falling victim
to companies better able to deliver their merchandise to a national market. According to
the Bible of all blues discographies, Blues Records, 1943-1970, published first by the
late Mike Ledbitter, all of the material of McCain's two sessions appeared on a Trumpet
LP 701. If so, it would be the Holy Grail of record collectors, fetching, perhaps,
thousands of dollars. Having attended hundreds of record conventions during my
lifetime, I can truthfully say that I don't think any such animal exists, as independent
labels of that era were much more interested in supplying jukeboxes. When queried
about the subject, McCain seemed to recall a compilation LP. Both of us would
appreciate anyone shedding light on this matter.
Nevertheless, McCain's nine-track Trumpet output was augmented by five tracks by Tiny
Kennedy and pianist Clayton Love and reissued as a CD, Strange Kind Of Feelin', on
the Acoustic Archive label in 1990 and I agree with its reviewer in DIScoveries
magazine, retro rocker Cub Koda--formerly of Brownsville Station (yes, he wrote
"Smokin' In The Boys Room") and who at one time toured, fronting the late Hound Dog
Taylor's rhythm section of bassist Brewer Phillips and drummer Ted Harvey--that
McCain, as instrumentalist, actually plays second fiddle on these selections to Chris
Collins, who, in the foreground, shines as lead guitarist. Jerry, himself, never liked this
particular CD for an entirely different reason. "If I have the majority of the tracks on it
why did they put this other guy's face on the cover like it was his album? What kind of
deal is that?" he added with a voice filled with disgust.
But, despite his lack of success with Trumpet, Jerry McCain was far from throwing in the
towel on his recording career. "We weren't that famous, actually kind of scuffling then,
but we kept on giggin' in places like Rome, GA, and Birmingham, AL. I was just trying to
keep the band together," said Jerry. However, it wasn't long before Jerry received a
phone call that really boosted his career and from none other than Ernie Young of
Nashboro records in Nashville.
Photo by James Fraher.

Ernie founded his independent label in the early 50s at first concentrating upon gospel
music, but as blues gradually became more in demand, he assigned yet a second logo,
Excello, to handle area artists such as Louis Brooks and the Hightoppers, Good Rockin'
Sam Beasley with Kid King's Combo, Earl Gaines, and Arthur Gunter, who scored with
"Baby Let's Play House" (later covered by Elvis on Sun) as 2047 in 1955. Not only did
Young have a lock on a lot of local talent but also by mid-decade he would add that of
South Louisiana through a partnership with prolific producer J.D. Miller, who had a
studio in Crowley and leased Excello the masters of Lazy Lester, Lightnin' Slim (Otis
Hicks), Lonesome Sundown (Cornelius Green), Guitar Gable (Gabriel Perrodin) and
King Karl (Bernard Jolivette), Carol Fran, Charles Sheffield, Leroy Washington, and
Jimmy Anderson.
By the end of the 50s, Young would have soul stylists in his fold like Larry Birdsong,
Lillian Offitt, and Roscoe Shelton and even vocal groups like the Marigolds, who charted
with "Rollin' Stone (2078)" in 1955 and the Gladiolas who achieved the sensation, "Little
Darlin' (2101)" in 1957. In fact, before the 50s expired, Young's label attracted white
singers as well and he created the quasi-pop label Nasco to accommodate newcomers
like the Crescendos, who authored the '57 blockbuster "Oh Julie (6004)" and legendary
South Louisiana drummer, Warren Storm, whose "Prisoner's Song (6015)" made the
national Top 100 in 1958.Indeed, Ernie Young's Nashboro records was a formidable
operation which made the small-time Trumpet pale by comparison.
Not only did Young have a great distribution system in place but also he had an ace in
the hole--advertisement and promotion. As a sponsor, he plugged his product
relentlessly over radio station WLAC, a clear channel 50,000 watt powerhouse, whose
range, especially at night, would encompass a good third of the U.S. And pioneering
R&B DJ's like Hoss Allen, John R. (Richbourg), Herman Grizzard, and Gene Nobles
would publicize all of Excello's new singles as well as those of Randy Wood's Dot label
which could then be bought by mail order from, respectively, Ernie's (Young) Record
Mart in Nashville and Randy's Record Shop in Gallatin. In short, as far as being a player
in music game, Ernie Young had all his bases covered and when he beckoned, few,
including Jerry McCain, refused his overtures to record.
Over a span of three years years, 1955 to 1957, Jerry McCain and his band, the
Upstarts, cut no less than a half-dozen singles for Young, all in Nashville, including
some memorable pieces like his first and now classic "Courtin' In A Cadillac (2068)" and
later "Run, Uncle John! Run (2081)." Generally speaking, most of his endeavors of this
era were upbeat numbers verging on rock and roll and many had a decided comic bent
with a philosophic "sadder but wiser" life lesson prevailing. In the studio, Ernie "the
dictator (to use Jerry's expression)," tried to keep the music stark, simple, and
uncomplicated, often just employing three musicians to back his harmonica player, like
Robert Christian or Chris Collins on guitar, Skippy Brooks on piano (so-named because
of a pronounced limp), and brother Roosevelt McCain on percussion, who kept beat with
a folded magazine. And since he was a "control freak," Young often was at odds with
Jerry's own perception about how things should be done.
"One thing we went around and around with was the volume on the bass. He wanted the
bass in the background with the sound level down and I wanted it more out front and
louder because we weren't getting enough bottom to the record," said Jerry, who to his
perpetual regret had to, in addition, sign over the publishing rights of these compositions
to Ernie's Excellorec Music. Although the dozen sides recorded in Nashville were
sufficient for an album, none was ever envisioned and McCain had to wait until a CD,
That's What They Want: The Best Of Jerry McCain was issued by AVI/Excello in 1995.
Record executive Ray Harris, super agent Seymour Heller (Liberace), and writer Ed
Cobb ("Dirty Water" and "Every Little Bit Hurts") of the AVI entertainment group in the
late 70s bought the entire Excello catalogue and Woodland Studio from the Crescent
Corporation (to which they were originally sold by Ernie Young) and then sought to
repackage the masters, a commitment which for rather arcane financial reasons was
never fully realized.
Martin van Olderen (N.B.B.O.) and Eddie C. Campbell at Bluesestafette Utrecht 1989 by André
Hobus

Not long after the initial releases of this series, including McCain's, AVI sold the Excello
inventory to Rhino, the famous oldies label, and they reissued the same assemblage as
CD 70896. Undoubtedly Jerry's frustration with the Excello sessions led to his
undertaking a home recording project back in Gadsden during 1956-57 which eventually
yielded eleven sides, many of them wild stompers, which did not see the light of day until
1981 when a Dutch record entrepreneur, Martin Van Olderen, inquired about them and
issued them on White Label (LP 9966) as Choo Choo Rock, a transaction which, to say
the least, never sat well with Jerry. "He said he was a fan and he offered to give me
three hundred fifty dollars [in advance for royalties] for the tape. And like a fool I mailed it
to him. Then came the LP, which surprised the hell out of me. And since then, I've never
heard from him and never been able to contact him. As far as I know, this crook's been
selling the thing overseas for the last twenty years," said Jerry ruefully. Later, when Jerry
began traveling overseas, his Dutch booking agent, Helma Vogel, of Bluebird
corroborated his appraisal of the producer. But, by then, the damage had already been
done.
By 1959, Jerry had acquired an agent/manager, Gary Sizemore, with whom he had an
often stormy 26-year relationship, which lasted until the mid-80s. But at least at the
outset they were both on the same page and agreed that another trip to the studio was
long overdue. A session ensued on First Ave in Birmingham in a small room over
Brittney's, a neighborhood cafe, with engineer Homer Milam at the console. This taping
resulted in seven sides altogether, six of which would be released. Sizemore not only
had his own publishing--Starland--but also a batch of minor labels, including Gas,
Continental, and Romulus. In fact, Sizemore released two singles on Gas from this date
in 1960--"Steady (alt. take)" bw "Delta Boogie (1101)" and "Ruff Stuff (Tuff Stuff)" bw
"What About You (1002)." The best two selections of the lot--"She's Tough" and
"Steady"--were set aside and then shipped to Johnny Vincent and Ace records of
Jackson, MS.
Under normal circumstances, Vincent would have released this single on Ace, or his
subsidiary, Vin. Somehow, he saw fit to issue it on Rex, a label he merely distributed.
Perhaps, he was disgruntled that he didn't receive the publishing rights--Ace--as was the
general rule and it didn't really matter that much to him where it eventually appeared.
Unfortunately, since he is recently departed, he is no longer available to clarify this
mystery. Rex records, founded in the late 50s by the esteemed engineer and producer,
Cosimo Matassa of New Orleans, was conceived more as noble gesture on his part with
the intention to use it as a vehicle to support and promote Crescent City performers not
under contract to other labels. On its roster were Big Easy luminaries like Dr. John (Mac
Rebennack), Chuck Carbo (of the Spiders), Lee Dorsey (before "Ya Ya"), Jeannie Lynn,
and the Emeralds vocal group. With one exception, Earl King's tour de force, "Darling
Honey Angel Child (1015)," which was tied to Ace, all of Rex's titles bore Cosimo's
publishing--Pontchartrain Music, BMI.
And as far as I know, Jerry McCain is the only non-New Orleans artist to be included
among the twenty or so releases of the short-lived experiment of Rex. And nor could
Cosimo Matassa shed any light about this anomaly when contacted recently. "We were
flying by the seat of our pants back then. I'm not even sure if I have all the paperwork in
order as far as affiliation with BMI. Perhaps I should look into it," he said. Despite the
Rex association, the great blues shuffle that packed such a wallop, "She's Tough," was
a solid hit, selling moderately well throughout the South. It has since become a blues
standard, particularly since it was covered by the Fabulous Thunderbirds in 1980 on
started their careers and greased the skids for an easy segue into their monster "Tuff
Enuff" in 1986 on CBS Associated Records (ZS4 O5838). Now, up to this point, Jerry,
step by step, was building a reputation upon delivering the goods as far as down home
music was concerned and he was finally reaching the audience that appreciated his
brand of gut-bucket, low down, and rough-hewn blues. But his next trip to the studio
would signal a radically new departure in his maturation process--a move that
astonished him as it might the readers. Could slick, polished, and refined be uttered in
the same breath as Jerry McCain? Better believe it.Takoma (TAS 8001), a rendition
which really jump
NEW HORIZONS.

Evidently agent Gary Sizemore by now had developed enough clout in the industry to
approach the big boys--the major labels--about a recording contract for his client, Jerry.
And he succeeded in landing the largest of fishes--Columbia, and "race label"
subsidiary, OKeh. In the early 60s, Columbia was riding high on the national charts,
especially with country music, because they had a whole stable full of artists who, with
the help of their production crew, would be able to cross over to a broad "pop" audience.
Contributing in no small measure to this phenomenon was the A&R team of Don Law
and Frank Jones. Ironically, both had long careers in the R&B field before handling the
bulk of Columbia's C&W duties during this era. In fact, it was roving recording specialist
Don Law of the American Record Corporation who made the only masters (for Vocalion)
of the now-mythological Robert Johnson, crowned the King of the Delta Blues Singers,
taping him on two separate occasions--in a seedy hotel room in San Antonio in 1936
and in the back of a Dallas office building in 1937. Indeed, a couple of Christmases ago,
this Johnson 60s album on Columbia (CL 1654) was reissued on CD and outsold all
other holiday offerings of any label, which led to a lot of head scratching among record
moguls and a reappraisal of inventories.
But few if any bluesmen could ever challenge the enduring mystique of the enigmatic
guitarist who claimed to have a "Hellhound On My Trail." But by this time, the dynamic
duo of Don Law and Frank Jones had largely abandoned producing for R&B and OKeh,
except for sporadic forays like Doctor Feelgood and the Interns ("What's Up, Doc" and
"Mister Moonlight," the latter covered by the Beatles), leaving this race auxiliary to young
turks like the Windy City's Carl Davis (Major Lance, Billy Butler, Ted Taylor, and Walter
Jackson) and instead concentrated their energies upon hillbilly acts.
In the time frame when Jerry McCain had come into Columbia's fold, this tandem had
overseen some of the most huge C&W hits ever, including Ray Price's "Burning
Memories," Lefty Frizzell's "Saginaw, Michigan," Claude King's "Wolverton Mountain,"
Stonewall Jackson's "Don't Be Angry, " Marty Robbins's "Ribbon of Darkness" and
"Ruby Ann," and Johnny Cash's "Ring Of Fire" and "Understand Your Man."
And being a pop label, Columbia's bottom line was always sales, which meant watering
down the product for better public consumption. For example, Don Law and Frank Jones
did not hesitate to introduce Danny Davis's Nashville Brass to augment the arrangement
of Cash's "Ring Of Fire," although a horn section in a country ballad was rather unheard
of in those days, an addition which instead hearkened back to the 40s swing music of
Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys (remember "San Antonio Rose"?). But, nonetheless, it
worked, prompting even more experiments to take the rough edges off these rural
recordings.
Also at Jones' and Law's disposal to further dilute the deliveries of these rubes were a
whole arsenal of polished musicians of Music Row in Nashville, including guitarist Grady
Martin, highly respected Floyd Cramer on piano, and the redoubtable Boots Randolph
on tenor. Indeed, the latter two as solo performers had scored on their own--Cramer with
"Last Date" and "On The Rebound" for RCA and Randy "Boots" Randolph with "Yakety
Sax" for Monument, the latter a hot instrumental which later became the theme song for
the long running, late night television program, Benny Hill Show. And if this assortment
of professionals was not enough to smooth out any unfinished undertaking, one could
easily supply strings and then call upon the Anita Kerr Singers to provide a syrupy and
saccharin vocal chorus--more often than not the acoustical wallpaper behind this stellar
supporting cast.
Photo by Joseph A. Rosen

Of course, all of these components became much more easier to manipulate with the
advent of multi-tracking in recording. No longer was it necessary at one sitting to
assemble the whole multitude in the studio. A good engineer could record them
separately and add them to the mix at his discretion. This aforementioned aggregate
was employed in virtually hundreds of recordings originating in Nashville in the late 50s
and 60s. Not only were they backing C&W giants like Patsy Cline (Decca), Jim Reeves
(RCA), and Bill Anderson (Decca) but also pop stars like Roy Orbison (Monument),
Brenda Lee (Decca), and Elvis Presley (RCA). So this production team was what Jerry
McCain was confronting when he signed a contract with Columbia (OKeh) in 1962.
Whereas Law and Jones had the intention to convert C&W acts into mass appeal, they
wanted to do likewise with the rudimentary R&B of this Alabama born harp player,
hoping for even more cross-over wonders. "They wanted me to do mostly instrumentals
but I insisted on doing vocals," said Jerry, whose first attempt on OKeh was "Red Top,"
a tune written by the illustrious vibraphonist Lionel Hampton and popularized by his
former sideman, the late saxophonist Arnett Cobb, who also recorded solo for OKeh in
the 50s. Despite Jerry's protestations, Jones and Law eventually won out and "Red Top
(7150)" with a breezy harmonica passage against a wall of sound became the prototype
of all four of his OKeh releases during 1962 which were divided among two recording
sessions.
And the flip of "Red Top" was the bouncy "Twist 62," a blatant ploy to cash in on the
dance craze sweeping the nation. Of the singles issued by Okeh, Jerry preferred the
funky ditty, "Jet Stream (7158)," yet another slick instrumental set against a background
of the Anita Kerr singers who were so overdubbed that they sounded like the Mormon
Tabernacle Choir. But by his last single, it was clear that both McCain, now buried deep
in the mix and sounding very much out of his element, and Law and Jones had run out
of fresh ideas.
OKeh 7170 was another doubled-sided instrumental whose melodies were appropriated
from other sources. "Hop Stroll" was a regurgitated "Fannie Mae" made famous by the
late harp player Buster Brown on Bobby Robinson's Fire label in 1959 and "Turn The
Lights On Popeye," another strate gem to please the dance crowd, was nothing more
than a repackaged 1961 rocker by Bobby Blue Bland, "Turn On Your Lovelight," for Don
Robey's Houston-based Duke records.
Be careful for what you wish for was probably the moral to Jerry McCain's venture with a
major label, an experience which proved to be a double-edged sword. On one hand was
the prestige of being associated with such a renowned company, but on the other was
the lack of control, the endless compromising in the studio.
To add insult to injury, Jerry, after his stint with Okeh had terminated, was presented
with a statement of $33,000 for the costs incurred in staging such an elaborate
endeavor. And Jerry, himself, felt that he was blindsided, assuming that Columbia, since
they invited him to record, would pick up the tab. "I think I still owe them about $938 out
of that deal and they finally stopped calling," said Jerry, who, as usual received no
royalties.
Needless to say, he emerged a sadder but wiser man from this experience. But he was
not about to totally abandon reaching the pop market with this Music City cast of
characters. Regular "Nashville Cats" like the aforementioned Martin and Cramer decided
to form their own label, Rik, in the mid-60s and, remembering the potential that Jerry
displayed during his sessions with them, invited him back for an encore.
However, his solitary single release with them (#65 in 1965)--"Here's Where You Get It"
bw "Pokey"--fared no better than the previous four Okeh 45's. "It didn't matter if it sold or
not. I wasn't going to get a nickel out of it anyway and never have," said Jerry. After this
flirtation and failure with mainstream music, it was back to square one and Gary
Sizemore hoped that history could repeat itself by rerecording Jerry at the site of his
successful "She's Tough" on Rex records, Homer Milam's facility above Brittney's
restaurant on First Avenue in downtown Birmingham.
But, alas, the old magic could not be mustered and "Love Me Right" bw "Ting-tang-tu,"
released on Sizemore's Continental label (#777) created hardly a stir on the R&B
surveys. But in all honesty, both Jerry and his agent/manager by that time (1965) were
swimming against the tide. Blues was on its way out, being replaced in the black
community by a more sophisticated and cosmopolitan sound--soul music. The younger
generation wanted to forget about or repress their roots--the cotton fields, the hardships,
poverty, and oppression--and embrace the new lifestyle reflected in such refined urban
rhythms of the day.

To further emphasize this subtle shift in public tastes after mid-decade, one could count
the number of national blues hits on one hand--Slim Harpo's (James Moore) "Baby
Scratch My Back (Excello 2273, 1966)," guitarist Lowell Fulson's "Tramp (Kent 456,
1966)," and B.B. King's "Paying The Cost To Be The Boss (Bluesway 61015, 1967),"
"Why I Sing The Blues (61024, 1969)," and "The Thrill Is Gone (61032, 1969)." But even
these anomalies did not adhere to the standard 12-bar blues format and lush strings
were even added to King's later efforts like "Thrill." In fact, most of these songs were so
uncharacteristic of classic blues that a duo like Otis Redding and Carla Thomas could
easily transform Fulson's "Tramp" into a soul standard.
Oddly enough, in order to survive then as a bluesman, one had to become someone
decidely different. One of the last producers not to give up on the viability of blues at this
juncture was former talent scout and A&R man (he first introduced Lowell Fulson to
Chess records of Chicago), Stan Lewis, who ran Jewel records (with subsidiaries Paula
and Ronn and later Whit, after Lionel Whitfield productions) out of Shreveport, LA. After
founding the label in 1965, Lewis had also dabbled in soul (the Carter Brothers, Bobby
Powell, and the Uniques), C&W (Ben Gabus and Joe Stampley), and Swamp Pop
(Bobby Charles, the author of Bill Haley's "Later Alligator," Fats Domino's "Walking To
New Orleans," and Clarence "Frogman" Henry's "But I Do"). Ironically, Lewis would not
savor his greatest triumph until he recorded Baton Rouge's John Fred's (Gourrier)
novelty "Judy In Disguise (With Glasses) (Paula 282)," in the fall of 1967.
With the windfall profits from this huge smash, he was able to attract or keep a whole
host of blues figures (his first love) on his labels, including Buster Benton, Ted Taylor,
Bobby Rush, Peppermint Harris (Nelson), Joe Turner, Charles Brown, Albert
Washington, Little Johnny Taylor, George "Wild Child" Butler, Frank Frost, Ray Agee,
Eddie Lang, Lightnin' Hopkins, Big Mack, and his personal favorite, Lowell Fulson. But
even Lewis, the blues purist, in order to stay afloat financially, had to make concessions
to please the public's fickle palate, often resorting to gimmicks like the wah-wah pedal in
Fulson's first LP for Jewel, In A Heavy Bag (note the title) or in general putting his
contractees in incongruous musical settings.
Nonetheless, his was a formidable roster of mostly down-home, southern blues giants
and certainly rivaled the stable of that of the Windy City's Chess which, by that time, had
just about folded its tent in the vain pursuit of that same goal. It was Jerry who first
contacted Lewis and found that his reputation had preceded him. "Yeah, he had not only
heard of me but he invited me to record, sending me over to Tyler, Texas in this white
boy's studio that he had in his house. I can still remember that long bus ride all alone
and then being holed up in this hot, jive ass, fleabag hotel room during the sessions,"
recalled Jerry.
His first recording for Lewis was the instrumental titled "728 Texas (Where The Action
Is)" bw "Homogenized Love (Jewel 753)," the former referring to the address of Stan
Lewis's headquarters in Shreveport. "On that 'Texas' thing it sort of reminded me of
'Jetstream' because I was also using a double reed harmonica, but not the original
'cause I had bought that one for just 98 cents. Lewis liked playing this tune in particular
over the radio, since it was free advertising for his outfit," added Jerry. In all in the period
1965 to 1968, Jerry McCain released a total of five singles for Jewel and talked at length
about a fierce rivalry between himself and another contemporary, the prolific Jewel
records harp ace, the late Frank Frost, who originally hailed from Auvergne, AK, but had
long since settled in Lula, MS, in the Delta by the time he signed with Lewis in 1966.
Frost also played in a similar rough-hewn style as McCain which he had learned first
from Little Willie Foster in St. Louis in 1951 and later as longtime guitarist (with Sam
Carr on drums) in Sonny Boy Williamson's (Aleck Miller) band in the 50s. By 1962, Frost
(who doubled on keyboards), Carr, and guitarist Jack Johnson had recorded as the
Nighthawks for Sam Phillips (of Sun records fame) in Memphis at his new facility (near
the site of the old shrine on Union) on Madison Ave, releasing an LP, Big Boss Man, and
the single, "Jelly Roll King (Phillips International #3578)," which, with the addition of an
"s," eventually became the name of this trio as they later in the 80s and 90s toured and
recorded for Chicago blues fan, Michael Frank, and his Earwig label.

Photo by Kendra Carter

"You know I can recall cutting tunes like 'Honky Tonk' and 'Midnight Beat' in Memphis
and Frank Frost would be there and he'd turn around and copy my riffs. I'd hear them
later on what he was puttin' out," claimed Jerry. There may have been some truth to his
accusations, since Frost did rather shamelessly plagiarize Slim Harpo's "Baby Scratch
My Back" with his first release for Jewel, "My Back Scratcher (765)." But there was more
than just a little borrowing going on back then, and blues was no exception, before the
days when copyright violations in music were assiduously prosecuted and severe
penalties for such infringements were rarely meted out.
In this regard, I asked Jerry why Lewis never issued an LP of his material, since he had
repackaged Frank Frost's total output of thirteen tracks (which was produced by none
other than Scotty Moore, Elvis's erstwhile legendary guitarist) and released a CD in
1991 on Paula--Jelly Roll Blues. Jerry, who had precisely the same number in the can
as his longtime competitor, was quick to respond. "What difference does it make? I
wrote all the songs and they slapped someone else's on them. Above all, I ain't got the
publishing anyhow," he said. And Jerry might have a point.

If one were to scrutinize his last release in 1972 (recorded in 1968), "Soul Spasm" bw
"Somebody's Been Talking (828)," he would plainly see that the writer credits were
divided between Jerry and, respectively, Carlton McWilliams and Gene Hays. The
publishing, itself, is shared by that of producers Clinton Moon and Al Gardner
(Moonsong) and Lewis (Su-Ma). Even if Lewis were to extend the same favor to Jerry as
with Frank Frost, there wouldn't be enough residuals available to make it worthwhile, at
least for the artist.And speaking of money, I was curious whether Jerry, under such
circumstances, could have been self-supporting as a musician.
"Hell, no. I was still giggin' as best I could. But for about ten years from the late 50s to
the late 60s, I was doing detective work, actually as a bounty hunter. And I was packin',
too,--a nine millimeter and a twelve-gauge shotgun. This white guy I was working for,
Ace Williams, he sent me all over, even to Ohio, to haul in bail jumpers," said Jerry. But
he had to quit this "distasteful business (to use his own words)" because of an incident
wherein his boss demanded that Jerry bind up in chains a fugitive from justice. This
"order" came after the unfortunate, young black man had already been placed in
handcuffs. "I refused to honor that ridiculous request. If he were white I think it would
have been a different story. Acey wanted to know if I were some Black Panther or
something like that. And I told him that I wasn't a Muslim either, just a black man with a
conscience," he added.
This conversation in turn led to a discussion about racism in general during the 60s and
whether he had directly experienced it. With Jerry, this topic really touched a nerve. "I
remember one time. It must have been at the very end of my years with Excello 'cause it
happened outside of Nashville. Anyway, we were pulled over maybe for following too
closely. And I just about whipped my gun out 'til I saw the cop's badge. Anyway, he took
me behind the car and just kept busting me in my lip. I had to take it 'cause else I would
have been a dead man," said Jerry. Then I inquired about accommodations at overnight
venues and he was quick to respond with a rueful laugh. "You'd better find some friends
[to stay with] because one night Gary Sizemore found me a gig and I wound up eating
my supper in the boiler room of a 'whites only' hotel," he replied.
Actually, as the 70s dawned, Jerry's next appointment the studio would be civil rights
related. About that time frame, C&W artist, Guy Drake, recorded "Welfare Cadillac" for
the red, white, and blue logo of the Nashville-based Royal American records (RA-1), a
narrative which described how a recipient on the dole, on public assistance, managed to
afford a luxury automobile. This highly controversial and thinly disguised racist
propaganda became a rallying cry for all the right-wing alarmists of that tumultuous
period in U.S. history, who bought the platter by the thousands. In fact, it became such a
sensation that it was rerecorded by Travis Bell for Imperial (66432-S) in order to reach a
wider market.
The sales of this item, arranged by Jerry "When You're Hot, You're Hot" Reed and
engineered by the aforementioned Scotty Moore, even outpaced its predecessor. Again,
it was Gary Sizemore who landed Jerry McCain this recording deal and arranged a
session at the Boutwell studio in downtown Birmingham, Al. Seizing upon an opportunity
to right a wrong, Jerry hastily recorded a response to Drake's misguided political
message--"Welfare Cadillac Blues (Royal American 4)"-- a parody in which he adds the
line, "Yeah, it's an Eldorado, too," followed by a hearty "Heh, Heh, Heh," taunting the
listeners.

"It must have become a quite a comedy hit, especially with black people, 'cause I heard
them trying to imitate my own laugh at the end. In fact, I heard it up in Detroit, although
they didn't know even who was singing it," said Jerry. But little did Jerry know that with
the release of his second Royal American single, "The Cockfight" bw "I'm In Trouble
(#14)," that his heretofore prodigious recording career would come to such an abrupt
halt. Due to a combination of circumstances, the rest of the 70s and much of the 80s
would be a struggle for him. And for much of this time, he would be down, but not out. All
along, he persevered and never lost faith in himself. And, ultimately, he would be
rewarded for his tenacity.
THE COMEBACK KID.

Photo by Donna U.

As the 70s dawned, it was a struggle for any bluesman to survive and Jerry McCain, all
his talent not withstanding, was no exception. But not only were the blues suffering, it
was live music of all genres that would now play a back seat role to the insidious
rhythms of disco music that were inexorably taking hold of the nation. But, perhaps, for
Jerry it was even a worse situation because being tied to Gary Sizemore, he was not his
own man and free to make any personal decisions about his future. "Gary was pretty
slick. I had to wait for him to call all the shots. He had this five year contract with me with
an option that automatically renewed itself after each expiration. I felt like an indentured
servant," he admitted. This ironclad agreement was a double-edged sword. At times,
Sizemore was a player and had many connections in the industry, even representing
SSgt Barry Sadler, who scored a national smash with "The Ballad Of The Green Berets"
on RCA in the late 60s and Sammi Smith, the one-hit country wonder, who took Kris
Kristofferson's "Help Me Make It Through The Night" on Mega to the top of the charts in
the early 70s.
When he was hot, he was hot, but in the 70s, he was decidedly not. As the decade wore
on, scuffling became the name of the game. Jerry, resisting the temptation of a steady
day job, accepted any and all offers to perform. One such gig took him to Dalton, GA,
where a promoter recruited local musicians to back him, warming up the audience for a
professional wrestling venue, which must have been comparable to a recent
engagement by comic/boogie pianist Reverend Billy C. Wirtz, who for a spell served as
the house band for the wildly popular weekly TV broadcast of the World Wide Wrestling
Federation. But for Jerry it proved to be a short lived stint. "I had trouble with my
sidemen from the beginning. They just wouldn't cooperate. I guess they were jealous
that an outsider like me was getting top billing," he said.
Throughout the rest of the 70s, Jerry didn't issue a record. "I guess people must have
thought that I had disappeared off the face of the earth," he said. Sizemore did finally
secure a session for him at famed Muscle Shoals (AL) studio in 1983 where he recorded
"53 Year Old Man" and "I'm Waiting For Jesus," featuring the late great Eddie Hinton on
lead guitar. In fact the latter song with religious overtones may have prompted Decatur,
GA, gospel purveyor, Wendel Parker, to later negotiate (1986) and finally purchase the
tapes and then release Bad Blues Is My Business (LP 30001) on his Bad label, an
auxiliary to his regular spiritual line--Surfine.
Although blues was experiencing somewhat of a resurgence at this time, this particular
project, without proper promotion or distribution, never really had a chance to succeed
and the two singles--"She Tore Me Up (1001)" and the aforementioned "53 Year Old
Man (1002)" came and went without much notice. Sizemore, instead, decided to sit on a
lot of other recorded material of this era and release it at his discretion. One such
undertaking was a series of Georgia recordings, including a remake of "She's Tuff" and
"Soul Shag" (in a "Got My Mojo Workin'" groove) the single of which was utilized to
market the CD, Soul Shag (on Heart) in 1990 not only to capitalize on Jerry's new-found
notoriety but also to cash in on the dance craze sweeping the seaside resorts in and
around Myrtle Beach, SC.
Another album followed close on its heels, Good Stuff, which repackaged many of
Jerry's oldies but goodies. But during the 80s, both Sizemore's reluctance to record and
his inability to produce an album that would return Jerry to the spotlight led to the bitter
dissolution of their long, love-hate relationship.
By mid-decade, now a free agent, Jerry was solicited by Kirby Kinnman who ran the
Equity label headquartered in Atlanta. "I had gotten rid of Gary. It was true. But I wasn't
really overjoyed at this deal either because I knew Kirby was an associate of his. In fact,
I was really suspicious. But he kept after me," said Jerry. In 1987 or thereabouts, Jerry
traveled to Nashville to record Blues On The Move which included at least one topical
song which would always be Jerry's trademark--"The Cost Of Livin' Is Too High."
Unfortunately, no more details of his endeavor can be related, as even Jerry does not
possess a copy. And the scarcity of the disk can serve as a testament to its sales.
Despite the failure of these two disks, his fans knew he was back in circulation and
recognition was slowly coming his way.
In 1987, he was called upon to compete against other harmonica legends of the day at
the storied Fillmore Auditorium in the Haight Ashbury district of San Francisco. There he
acquitted himself quite ably on the same stage as Sammy Myers, Rod Piazza, Lazy
Lester, and Rick Estrin of Little Charlie & the Nightcats. But in the process, he caught
pneumonia (a long and involved story) which Jerry thinks contributed to a stroke three
weeks later. On the brink of a comeback, it was quite a setback for a year or so. Back on
his feet by the late 80s, he remained the optimist. But as far as career aspirations went,
Jerry realized that he would have to take a new approach.
Blues was back in vogue and he wanted to hop on the same bandwagon with others of
his generation who were experiencing a rediscovery during this period. But this entailed
being the aggressor rather than than passively waiting for the phone to ring. He decided
to call Englishman John Abbey who both founded (in the mid-80s) and ran Ichiban
records out of Atlanta, GA. At the time Ichiban (which means #1 in Japanese) was one
of the R&B/blues giants of the country, rivaling Malaco, Black Top, and Alligator in sales.
Photo by Donna U.

Even now, it's difficult to believe it's all gone--defunct with Abbey back in England beset
by creditors probably on both continents. But back then Ichiban was releasing scores of
albums and over a hundred singles with an roll call roster of national characters--Jean
"Mr. Big Stuff" Knight, Little Johnny Taylor, Blues Boy Willie, Artie White, Willie Clayton,
Buster Benton, Ben E. King, Millie Jackson, and Tyrone "Can I Change My Mind" Davis.
In fact, it was the last refuge of the 45 rpm up to the label's demise in 2001.
And in its heyday it was viable enough to distribute at least five star-studded
subsidiaries--WRC (Wilbe Recording Corporation) with William Bell, Urgent! with Bobby
Rush, Triune with O.C. Smith and actor Cuba Gooding, After Hours with John Ellison,
and Wild Dog, eventually with Jerry McCain.
Aimed at the hip, black urban, sophisticated market, Ichiban nonetheless made its bread
and butter off rather raunchy or risque numbers like " (Let's Go) Smoke Some Pot (96-
359)" by Dash Rip Rock, "Shit List" by Travis Haddix (93-278), "Bring The Beef Home to
Me (90-212)" by Trudy Lynn, "Jack You Up (90-204)" by Chick "Mr. Stoop Down" Willis,
and still a perennial seller--Clarence Carter's inimitable "Strokin' (86-108)."
Indeed, such a steady stream of salacious selections of the Ichiban catalogue probably
inspired Jerry to give Abbey a call. Such racy and suggestive lyrics were right up his
alley because no one loves freedom of expression better in this particular realm than our
hero. Jerry did not have to plead his case to Abbey. "He cut me off. He told me I didn't
need to explain who I was. He had heard all about me.
He welcomed me on board," said the harmonica ace. In all during a four year stretch
from 1989 until 1993, Jerry recorded no less than four albums for Ichiban at its Atlanta
studio. And thinks that there were possibly as many as five singles issued. "At least
there were that many on the jukebox at the American Legion Hall where I hung out in
Gadsden," he said.
Although now with a major label, Jerry never seemed quite at ease with his supporting
cast and entirely satisfied with the results. "It kinda felt too slick and held back," he said.
And the critics also seemed to second his emotion. Although none of the CDs were out
and out panned, they received nothing more than a lukewarm response from reviewers.
For example Bill Dahl in his critique of Blues 'N' Stuff (1989) explains that "there's
nothing aboard this okay outing that would suggest how amazing McCain's early work
for Trumpet, Excello, and Rex was."
In Love Desperado of 1992, Dahl goes on to say that the "releases for Ichiban are
certainly competent but that insane energy level that marked his Excello output of the
50s is ancient history--and so too, for the most part, is the gleeful irreverence that made
his early sides such a delight." Our own Larry Hoffman of the Baltimore Blues Society in
his summary of 1992's Struttin' My Stuff offers the most favorable comments, calling
McCain's harp work "traditional and solid" and a "fine set of funky, urban blues."
No major critic saw fit to discuss the merits of I've Got The Blues All Over Me in 1993,
Jerry's last offering for Abbey and Ichiban on Wild Dog. What could have been a fine
vehicle, Ichiban, for presenting the true essence of Jerry McCain and putting him in a
proper setting where he could perform at his unrestrained best came up short of
expectations for everyone. And to boot, Jerry was presented a $35,000 bill (as yet
unpaid) for his efforts.
But at least his involvement with such a major label put him back on the map. He was
finally back in the public eye and that meant it was also time to hit the road and do some
touring. Now represented by Helma Vogel of the Bluebird Booking Agency in Holland,
Jerry was invited overseas for the first time in 1990 which included stops in the
Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany. Next there was Italy, France (Paris), and
Switzerland. It's all a blur now because he's been across the pond so often.
But Jerry does remember an embarrassing incident in the early 90s in Holland (Blues
Estafette in the city of Utrecht) wherein John Abbey during a hotel visit played with this
harmonica carrier and absent-mindedly placed each harp back in the wrong receptacle.
"Here I was on Dutch TV and in front of a big crowd and I couldn't play any song in the
right key without fumbling around. I just about killed that man that night," said Jerry.
As mentioned before, only a chronic back condition forced a recent cancellation of a
junket to Finland. By the mid-nineties, Jerry was becoming a household name in blues
circles and accepted invitations for a flurry of festivals both here and abroad. Stateside
he played at the Chicago Blues Festival of 1990 and later the Mississippi River Blues
Festival in Moline, IL. Of course in Alabama he's always been considered a state
treasurer and has been a fixture at Birmingham's prestigious City Stages jamboree
(which has included the likes of James Brown and Buddy Guy) and also Huntsville's
annual Down Home Blues Fest.
Even old record producers like Sizemore and Stan Lewis of Jewel/Paula/Ronn (now Sue
records) of Shreveport, LA, were dredging up long lost studio tapes to test the public's
interest. In fact, the latter exec released Jerry's version of Bill Doggett's "Honky Tonk
(Jewel 874)" on a marble colored vinyl single and coupled it with Buddy Ace's "I Just
Love Your Funky Soul."
In the Deep South old habits like vinyl, cassettes, and two-sided singles still die hard. If
one side doesn't make the grade Mr. DJ, merely flip it over. In 1998, guitarist Timothy
Duffy and wife Denise, blues fans representing Music Maker Relief foundation, an non-
profit organization dedicated to keeping alive Southern musical traditions and helping its
artists to survive, paid a visit to Jerry in Gadsden in hopes of being able to record him for
posterity. In short, all thought it would be a great idea, especially the totally acoustic part
(without amps), and Tim summoned musician friends Microwave Dave (guitar) and Ardie
Dean (drums) to round out the session which was held in a rented hotel room.
The outcome wasn't a polished product by any stretch (all single takes) but at least it
gave the listener a glimpse of what real down home juke blues is all about. This fine CD,
Jerry "Boogie" McCain Unplugged, was eventually released on Music Maker Recordings
& Boogie Down Records (Jerry's own label) in 2001. As usual, Jerry included among his
compositions one of a topical nature--"Sexual Harrassment"--but the key song of whole
batch was "Excited By Your Charms" which excited guitarist John Primer to the extent
that when he heard the demo proffered by Tim Duffy, he contacted buddy Mike Vernon,
the same of Blue Horizon and Code Blue fame, who was now producing for Jericho
Cello, a division of Sire-London, which was under the aegis of Warner Music.
All agreed that Jerry McCain was long overdue for a real thorough, professional touch.
No one could dispute that with the release in 2000 of This Stuff Just Kills Me (Jericho
Cello 90005-2), that Jerry McCain had not finally arrived. It was simply a monumental
project which was lovingly recorded over a two year period in four state of the art
facilities--Hit Shack and Congress House in Austin, Ardent in Memphis, and the Time
Zone in Chicago.
Cameos were volunteered by a slew of hall of fame performers including guitarists
Anson Funderburgh, Jimmie Vaughan, Primer, and Jake (the former child prodigy)
Andrews. On keyboards were Carl Sonny Leyland and the legendary (Chuck Berry
accompanist) Johnnie Johnson. Anchoring the rhythm section were ex-Stevie Ray
Vaughan and Double Trouble's bassist, Tommy Shannon, and drummer Chris Layton.
All in all, it was an assemblage worthy of a blues pantheon who paid a fitting tribute to a
long unacknowledged master of the blues harp.
Again, Jerry demonstrates his prodigious songwriting skills with more of his signature
songs dealing with current issues--"Viagra Man" and "Ain't No Use For Drug Abuse."
But, in reality, all the compositions shine. Just when another trip to the studio was in
order, Jerry received word that Jericho Cello had folded. And, amazingly enough, this
CD, This Stuff Just Kills Me, his pride and joy and chef d'oeuvre, is now already out of
print. And if he doesn't find another way to repackage this item, he'll soon be left without
a most imposing and impressive calling card. "Larry, it's the story of my life. Just when I
thought I finally got the break I was looking for, I get double-crossed or disappointed in a
big way," said Jerry. "Don't let it get you down too much. You've still got a lot left in the
tank," I said. "Don't worry 'bout me. I'm Jerry McCain the Viagra Man. I'll show them
mother fuckers I ain't through yet. I guarantee you. I'll be back," he said. And I wouldn't
want to bet against him or, heaven forbid, even get in his way.
Jerry "Boogie" McCain by Jane DeNeefe, Huntsville, Alabama.
Published: November 30, 2009 and updated on May 21, 2013 for Encyclopedia Of
Alabama Org.
Alabama bluesman Jerry "Boogie" McCain (1930-2012) was a prolific songwriter and
one the world's most influential amplified harmonica players. His songs are admired for
their humorous social commentary and natural vocal delivery as well as for their
innovative harmonica leads. Critics regard his 1960 instrumental Steady as a blues
harmonica classic. Although McCain continued to adapt with the times, his musical
standards and lyrical wit remained consistent throughout his career.
Jerry "Boogie" McCain was born June 19, 1930, in Gadsden, Etowah County. At birth
McCain was named Paul Edward, but his parents Marcellas and Cynthia Nickols McCain
called him Jerry from infancy. He was the youngest of five siblings. Both former
sharecroppers from Talladega County, Cynthia played guitar with her sister at the
Holiness church and Marcellas kept a Rockola jukebox at his barbecue stand. Jerry
began playing harmonica at the age of five, developing his skills by playing with other
musicians on the streets of Gadsden.
As a teenager, he performed on the local radio station WETO, accompanied by friends
playing a jug and washboard to keep the beat. He earned the nickname "Boogie" for his
facility with up-tempo rhythmic melodies. McCain dropped out of Carver High School in
the ninth grade. He later worked as a bounty hunter, delivered furniture, and worked at a
foundry in Gadsden.
In 1953, McCain's talent for mimicry and parody led to his first record when he met his
harmonica hero, Marion Walter "Little Walter" Jacobs, in Gadsden. Young Jerry
surprised Little Walter with a new twist on one of Little Walter's own hit songs, recasting
himself as the hero who makes Little Walter's "light burn so dim." Little Walter was so
amused by McCain's audacity, and impressed with his harmonica skills, that he started
calling him "Junior." McCain then sent a recording of the tune to Lillian McMurray of
Trumpet Records. After listening to McCain's demo of Little Walter's "Crazy 'Bout You
Baby," McMurray invited McCain to Jackson, Mississippi, where he recorded his first two
sides, "Wine-o-Wine" and "East of the Sun" in the back of her furniture store.
Jerry's next records were produced by the Excello label in Nashville between 1955 and
1957, including "Courtin' in a Cadillac" and his take-off on Muddy Waters's "Mannish
Boy" called "That's What They Want (Money Honey)." Originally marketed as singles,
his 12 Excello songs were re-released together in 1995 on a CD titled That's What They
Want: The Best of Jerry McCain.
In the late 1950s, McCain put together a band to make a recording in his Gadsden living
room. Gathered around one microphone, they recorded 11 single-track songs, including
"Geronimo Rock," "My Next Door Neighbor," "Rock & Roll Ball," and other high-energy
tunes later released collectively in 1981 as an unauthorized bootleg record called Choo
Choo Rock. The songs were later officially released as singles on the Excello label.
McCain recorded his most famous single, "She's Tough," and its flipside, "Steady," in
1960 at Homer Mylam's studio above Britling's Cafeteria on 1st Avenue North in
Birmingham. The respected producer Cosimo Matassa released "Steady"/"She's Tough"
on his New Orleans label, Rex. "She's Tough" eventually earned even greater renown
than "Steady" when the Fabulous Thunderbirds covered it in 1980. In another
Birmingham venture, McCain recorded several original songs, including "Soul Shag" and
"Pussycat-a-Go-Go," at Heart Studio with a band called the Shindigs, who would later
gain fame as Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs.
McCain supported the goals of the civil rights movement but did not consider himself a
part of it. Believing that dangerous times warranted armed self defense, he could not
commit to non‑violence because he knew his instinct would be to fight back if he were
attacked. Still, he admired the discipline of non‑violent friends and family who
participated in Gadsden's civil rights struggles. When Martin Luther King Jr. spoke in
Gadsden on June 21, 1963, McCain joined the caravan that escorted King safely from
Birmingham to Gadsden's Galilee Baptist Church.
Throughout his career, McCain moved from label to label, recording mostly original
material, usually with small independent companies hoping to make it big. Jewel, Gas,
Continental, Romulus, Royal American, and Esco all produced Jerry "Boogie" McCain
singles from the 1950s through the 1970s. The most established label was Okeh, a
subsidiary of Columbia Records, and McCain's recording of Lionel Hampton's "Red Top"
for the label made the Billboard charts. McCain's instrumental song "Jet Stream,"
released on Okeh in 1962, was praised by critics and included Boots Randolph on
saxophone.
McCain continued to write songs and play music. He toured with the Temptations and
recorded with the Muscle Shoals Horns. He performed in Europe and in a variety of
venues across the United States. Since 1989, he worked primarily with Ichiban Records
of Atlanta, with whom he released several albums, in addition to working on side
projects. He continually updated his themes to reflect the times, with songs in the 1990s
including "Sue Somebody," "Burn the Crackhouse Down," and "Viagra Man."
McCain has been honored with numerous awards, including an Alabama Folk Heritage
Award in 2007. In 2008, he produced a two-volume greatest hits CD called Better Late
Than Never on his own label, Boogiedown Records. As of spring 2009, McCain is
reportedly working on a final album, All Good Things Must Come to an End.
One room of his Gadsden home was devoted to ephemera documenting his long career.
Intermingled with handbills and album covers are plaques and tributes McCain received
over the years. Dozens of "blown out" harmonicas were suspended from the ceiling,
which was lined with posters of his shows from past decades in his "harmonica
graveyard." He was married three times and had two daughters. McCain died March 28,
2012, in Gadsden and was buried in Rainbow Memorial Gardens.
==

Jerry with Jesse Robinson.

Jerry McCain obituary by Tony Russell for The Guardian

on Thursday 5 April 2012.
Despite its connotations of misery and bad luck, the blues is no less flexible a medium
for humour, satire and topical commentary. Few artists in recent times have
demonstrated this more vivaciously than the singer and harmonica-player Jerry McCain,
who has died aged 81. The dozens of songs he wrote in a career spanning six decades
embraced the wry social observation of That's What They Want, My Next Door
Neighbour and Viagra Man, message songs such as Burn the Crackhouse Down and
more playful pieces such as Homogenized Love.

A lifelong resident of Gadsden, Alabama, McCain began playing music semi-

professionally in his teens. During the 1950s he gained celebrity status in the southern
jukebox market with singles such as Wine-O-Wine, Stay Out of Automobiles, Courtin' in
a Cadillac and other jaunty pieces for the Trumpet and Excello labels. Record collectors
discovering southern downhome blues in the 1960s were especially excited by his
coupling of the harmonica instrumental Steady and She's Tough (1960), a sly, sinuous
blues in the manner of Jimmy Reed. And not only record collectors: She's Tough was
covered, almost 20 years later, on the first album by the Texas band the Fabulous
Thunderbirds, and recalled in the title of the group's later album Tuff Enuff.
In the 1960s McCain gigged around Alabama and Georgia and made further recordings
for Okeh and Jewel, but music could not support him and he worked as a bounty hunter.
Welfare Cadillac Blues (1970), a response to an implicitly racist country song, put his
name back on the jukeboxes, but soon afterwards his recording career faded, not to be
fully revived until the late 1980s, when he signed with the soul label Ichiban and made
albums such as Love Desperado and Struttin' My Stuff. He had to wait longer than many
of his contemporaries to be invited to Europe, but after his first trip in 1990 he was often
booked for festivals and club engagements.
McCain never lacked self-belief. In his youth he drove round Gadsden in an old Ford
truck with the titles from his first record painted on the side, and in later years his
voicemail message ran: "You've reached the blues man Jerry 'Boogie' McCain, the
baddest harmonica player in the world." He bore a striking resemblance to Sammy
Davis Jr, and dressed for the stage in black and bling, sometimes wearing a holstered
gun.
He could play two harmonicas at once, one with his mouth, the other with his nose. So
could the better-known Sonny Boy Williamson II, who said he invented the technique,
but McCain always contested that. Less of a harmonica virtuoso than Williamson, he
was happiest when playing medium-tempo instrumentals, such as Steady and Red Top,
with a fat sound like that of a saxophone or, as on 728 Texas (the title was the address
of Jewel Records), an accordion.
His last album, This Stuff Just Kills Me (2000), was his most elaborate. McCain
produced more of his topical numbers, such as Ain't No Use for Drug Abuse, and his
producer Mike Vernon drew in collaborators such as the Fabulous Thunderbirds' Jimmie
Vaughan, the rhythm section of Stevie Ray Vaughan's Double Trouble, and Chuck
Berry's former pianist Johnnie Johnson. Unfortunately, soon afterwards the Jericho label
went out of business and the album became, almost overnight, a collector's item. It was
a turn of events that McCain viewed philosophically, as he had learned to do after many
years' experience of double-dealing record companies and unreliable managers.
He continued to work on his home ground, and in 2007 he received an Alabama folk
heritage award. Since 2008 he had appeared several times at First Friday, a monthly
Gadsden street festival. His wife and daughter predeceased him.
==