The Grave of Jack Gordon Owens

“Jack Gordon Owens was Widely Known as a Country Blues Pioneer”

By Billy Watkins, Clarion-Ledger Staff Writer 1997

BENTONIA — Clara Bell Griffith sat in a folding chair in the back of Old Liberty Missionary Baptist Church a few minutes before Jack Gordon Owens' funeral and recalled the day many years ago that he found religion. "Came up here to church on a mule," she said, laughing, "and left here on him just a runnin'. He said the mule was full of the Holy Ghost, too."

About 100 friends and admirers gathered here Thursday afternoon to remember Owens, a legendary blues pioneer who died Sunday following an illness at the age of 92. They braved the cold and dampness, and they talked more about Jack Owens, the man, than they did the musician.

Friends spoke of how he gave up many chances to play his music world-wide so that he could care for his bedridden wife, Mabel, who died in 1989. They noted that he couldn't read, yet he could find his way anywhere he wanted to go, without the help of road signs. And they talked proudly of his 1995 National Heritage Award and his opportunity to play for President Clinton in Washington.

David Evans, a professor of music at the University of Memphis, knew Owens for about 30 years. He drove down Thursday morning to attend the service.

"I came here in 1966 as a 22-year-old looking for music, and Jack Owens opened his doors to me," said Evans, 53. "He was a link to the heyday of the old country blues, when the music was pure and at its peak, back in the 1920s and '30s. For young people, there weren't many opportunities to hear someone who embodied that music. And with his passing, there's hardly any left. There are others who can recreate it, but Jack was there. He lived it."

Mary Cox, 48, knew Owens all her life.

"I'll never forget those summer days when I'd be on the outside and hear him, sittin' out there on his porch, singing and playing the guitar," Cox said. "And my house is where every-body used to stop to get directions to his. I've seen buses, cars, hundreds of people drive up to his house. He was a great artist."

In his tribute printed in the program, Eddie Nelson, Owens' nephew, wrote that Owens' was born L.F. Nelson. Owens' parents were Celica Owens and George Nelson, but he was raised by Sam Owens of Bentonia. Nelson also wrote: “you played your music in Europe, and then you came home and was plain old Jack Owens. You didn't change.  So God had a plan for L.F. Nelson that lasted 90-plus years. Now it's time to rest."

Another Account of the Funeral of Jack Owens
By Robert Hutton
http://hutten.org/rob/writing/

Nov. 17, 1904 - Feb. 9, 1997

On Thursday, February 13, 1997, a hundred or so people filed into the Old Liberty Missionary Baptist Church in Bentonia, Mississippi. They came for the funeral of Jack Owens who had passed away four days earlier in a Yazoo City hospital at the age of 92. Some came to mark the passing of "Mr. Jack", the farmer down the road who played old-time blues on his front porch for visitors from around the world. Others came to say farewell to a friend who had for the better part of a century provided an escape from life's hardships in the form of weekend front-room juke parties. Still others came to pay their respects to one of the last surviving links to the roots of Black American music.

Jack Owens farmed all his life in the small town of Bentonia, running a juke joint on weekends where he'd sell barbecue and his homemade white whiskey. "When I was real young, I used to hear the young guys talking about that they was goin' up to Jack Owens' place", recalls Bentonia native Dorothy Burrell.

"Jack Owens' place" was the front parlour of his small house, cleared of furniture and with a hole punched in the wall through which food and drink were served from the kitchen. The party would start Friday night and often run until Sunday evening, and would feature local blues players like Henry Stuckey, Skip James, and Adam Slater.[1] Sometimes Owens himself would play for the dancers, matching the driving rhythm of his thumb-picked bass lines with the heavy stomp of his foot.

Except for the occasional weekend fracas set straight by Owens and his pistol, he led a relatively quiet life. He never felt the need to leave his native Bentonia; he was well-liked in the community and had carved a comfortable niche for himself there. Unlike fellow Bentonian Skip James, who travelled and lived throughout the South, Owens never had the opportunity to be discovered by a talent scout like H. C. Spier, whose audition of James in Jackson led to a 1931 recording session for Paramount which saw 18 remarkable sides released.

Jack Owens's legal name was L. F. Nelson, although this was not widely known until his funeral. No one, not even Owens' three surviving sisters, recalls what the initials "L. F." stand for. "I knew that he was a Nelson," recalls Burrell, "but everybody knew him as Jack Owens because he was raised by the Owens family."

Owens was born to Celia [1] Owens on or about November 17, 1904. His father, who's last name was Nelson, ran off when he was five or six years of age. This left young Jack to be raised as an Owens in the household headed by his grandfather Samuel Owens. A 1910 census lists the children of the household as Savannah, Will, Lonnie, Jack (mistakenly listed as "Nelson Owens"), Leonard (listed as "Lennon"), Pearlee, Lucy and Willie. Leonard and Pearlee are listed as having the Nelson surname. At least two more children were born after 1910; not named in this census are Owens' sisters Lee Esther and Viola, who, along with Willie, are still living in 1997.

Owens learned to play the fife as a child, and early on picked up a few chords on the guitar from his father and uncle. He also learned a bit of piano and fiddle at some point, although the guitar was to become his main instrument.

In 1966, folk musicologist David Evans interviewed Bentonian blues singer Cornelius Bright, whom Evans had heard about from Skip James. Bright took Evans to meet Jack Owens one night, and Evans was hardly prepared for what he was about to hear. Owens' playing recalled that of Skip James, but with a rough edge not found in James' more delicate style. Owens was also a more forceful singer who didn't employ much of the falsetto that James favoured. Thrilled with his discovery, Evans began a series of recordings that night which would extensively document Owens' music for the next decade or more.

A handful of cuts from these recordings appeared on various compilation albums, but it wasn't until 1971 that a full album of Owens' music (with Bud Spires on harmonica) was released on the Testament label. These tracks, plus some unissued recordings, were reissued in 1995 on compact disc [see accompanying discography].

Thirty years later, Evans still holds a great deal of respect for Owens' playing, calling his style of blues "one of the most complex ever developed within a strong folk tradition." Owens used a number of alternate guitar tunings, including certain variations on standard tuning that seem to have originated with him. He used fingerpicks to achieve a brighter, louder tone and maintained a solid beat with his foot. Unlike Skip James, who considered his own playing to be art music intended for close listening, Owens created music that was well-suited for dancing and drinking. The two men shared a common repertory of lyrics, melodies and guitar figures, but the overall tonality of their music differed greatly. Many of the differences have been largely overlooked, with one writer even dismissing Owens entirely as a "derivative amateur"[2]. This curious conclusion could only have been reached without the benefit of hearing Owens's recordings; his singing and playing styles were as individualistic as they were complex.

Jack Owens was perhaps the strongest living embodiment of a musical tradition all but drowned out by the din of today's entertainment industry. With his passing we lose one of the last tangible connections to the time and place that brought forth the blues.

----------

Footnotes:

1. According to Evans, Owens called his mother "Celie", but she is listed as "Celia" on the 1910 census. Her name is spelled "Celica" on Jack's funeral program.

2. Calt, Stephen. I'd Rather be the Devil: Skip James and the Blues_, p. 20 New York: Da Capo Press, 1994.

Yazoo County Blues, a Well-Kept Secret (3 of 3)

Yazoo County Blues, a Well-Kept Secret (3 of 3)

Yazoo-styled blues spreads northward and around the world after World War II

By The Rev. Ken Cook Special to The Yazoo Herald 1999

Click HERE to read Part 2

Jimmy Holmes and Jack Owens (1982)

Like Mary Johnson, Tommy McClennan, and Robert Petway, Yazoo City's Arthur Spires (1912) became part of the massive migration of Southerners (mostly black) to the North in the 30s, 40s, and 50s.

Usually they left on the Illinois Central in search of opportunity. Mary got off in St. Louis. Tommy, Robert, and Arthur traveled on to Chicago.

By the late 1940s, Spires had been able to found his own band, The Rocket Four. Fortified by two or three electric guitars and a drumset--and sometimes including Little Willie Smith on harmonica--the blues had become urban. By 1952 Spires' producer, Leonard Chess, gave him the state name he would share with Elvis' inspiration, Arthur Crudup: "Big Boy." No full CD is devoted to his music at this time, but selections are avail-able on Morris Pejoe/Arthur "Big Boy" Spires and Chess' Chicago Blues Anthology. His "You Can't Tell" (from the first CD) is irresistibly funny.

Robert Covington (born Robert Lee Travis, December 13, 1941, in Yazoo City) would go north, too. A drummer in the band at Alcorn State, he would arrive in Chicago by 1962. After serving in the bands of Little Walter, Buddy Guy, and Sunnyland Slim, Covington struck out on his own as a vocalist with his own club band, recording two albums. His rich baritone earned him the title "Golden Voice of the Blues." Look for his Blues in the Night CD.

Because blues music was establishing broad national and international appeal by the early 60s, Jack Owens (born L. F. Nelson, November 17, 1904, in Bentonia) and James "Son" Thomas (October 14, 1926, in Eden) did not have to leave the Delta to be discovered.

Producers--from New York City, Memphis, and Germany--with their recording crews searched them out. Both are akin to the earlier "country bluesmen." Jack is often seen as the major student of Skip James. Both Owens and Thomas played amplified guitars and were often accompanied by other musicians (Owens by his partner, harpist Bud Spires of Bentonia, born 1931, the son of "Big Boy"). Son played in the Reagan White House in 1982, while Jack was featured in a Levi's television ad in 1995. Owens and Spires' work can be found on It Must Have Been the Devil; Thomas' recordings from Leland and, later from Germany, are to be found on his Beefsteak Blues (which includes an obscene version of "Catfish Blues").

The most recent Yazoo County native - but raised in Missouri - to sing and play the blues is Mike Henderson (Yazoo City, July 7, 1951). Something of a purist who works with a seasoned four-piece band, The Bluebloods, he offers powerful versions of country tunes like "Pony Blues," Chicago blues classics such as "How Many More Years" and originals including "All My Money's Gone." The listener might want to listen to First Blood (1996) or Thicker Than Water (1998).

The ten recording artists mentioned in this series have had, by means of the larger medium of blues music, a significant worldwide impact. Through their music they have exported Southern culture throughout the United States and wherever American troops from the South have been stationed since World War II. Since the blues tradition consistently embraces and reveres its past, the contributions of these local artists is not likely to diminish. 

One last note: with this constellation of musicians, Yazoo City was once thought to only be rivaled by Clarksdale, but the largest Delta city of Greenville has proven a major source of Delta blues music, namely Prince McCoy, Little Milton, Eugene Powell...among others...

The Yazoo County Blues —A Three-Part Series

This three-part series concludes with this issue tracing the spread of Yazoo-styled blues northward to Chicago and Detroit and from there around the world. 

“Sexiest Man Alive Spends Weekend in Clarksdale Visiting Blues Sites, Cotton Harvest"

Ms. Z. L. Hill and JFK Jr.

By Howard Stovall 

Tourism Spokesperson

October 26, 1991

Clarksdale had a distinguished visitor recently when John F. Kennedy Jr., son of the late U.S. president, stayed here for one entire weekend.  

Named "The Sexiest Man Alive" by People Magazine, Kennedy is presently working for the district attorney’s office in New York City and was traveling here with a friend from law school, Karen Hefler, a lawyer with the NY firm of Cravath, Swaine and Moore.

"Clarksdale is a wonderful place," Kennedy commented to me during his visit.  Informed about the local promotion of tourism and the upcoming vote on funds to support a tourism commission, Kennedy said, "I wonder if the people that live here realize how refreshing Clarksdale is to someone visiting from a place like New York."

"I think tourism could be a great industry for Clarksdale. I've certainly had fun here." Because of my position as president of the Sunflower River Blues Association and spokesperson for the Tourism Commission, he had been given my name by Rex Miller. Miller is a New York photographer who visited Clarksdale several months ago. "I was constantly amazed at how genuinely warm and friendly the people are," Kennedy continued. "It's a lovely town and a great place to relax and get away from the pressures of New York City."  Kennedy and Hefter explained that they had wanted to come south for a blues festival for some time and were steered here by Rex Miller.

Suggesting Clarksdale's Sunflower River Blues Festival or Helena's King Biscuit Blues Festival as enjoyable festivals, Miller "insisted that we stay at the Riverside Hotel in Clarksdale because of its blues heritage and because Mrs. Hill is such a nice person," Hefler said. For three nights, the two stayed at the Riverside which is the old G.T. Thomas Afro-American Hospital where the Empress of Blues, Bessie Smith, died following a car crash on Highway 61 in 1937.

Since Mrs. Hill began operating the Riverside as a hotel and boarding house, it has been home to many famous blues musicians. Although Kennedy had planned to get in touch with me on Monday following the King Biscuit Blues Festival, we ran into each other at the Varsity Club in Helena Saturday night.

Inviting them to visit Stovall Farms, I gave them a tour of the area all day Sunday. They were really interested in cotton harvesting. Although the gin wasn't running, we were picking that day, and they got a kick out of seeing the pickers in operation and checking out the bales of cotton on the loading dock.

I explained how the crop developed and how it was marketed.

When they opened their car trunk later on, I saw they had picked two big cotton plants they were planning to take back to the city. They were pretty embarrassed when I saw the plants, but I got a big kick out of it.

On Monday the famous tourists visited the legendary bluesman Son Thomas of Leland and Eugene Powell of Greenville.

They were such nice men," Hefler said. "Mr. Powell played for us, and it was some of the most beautiful music I had ever heard."

Although Kennedy had to make an early return to New York, Hefler saw more local attractions before she left including a meal at Abe's and an interview at WROX by the Soul Man Early Wright.

The two visitors were surprised to learn that the playwright Tennessee Williams had grown up here, and I would have liked running up to Moon Lake to Uncle Henry's and Grant's Pass with a stop at the Friars Point Museum. But we just didn't have time.

But before he left, Kennedy said, "We plan to return in August for the Clarksdale blues festival."

Robert Covington’s Soul is at Home in a Suburban Ranch

Blues Don’t Fade on City’s Collar

Robert Covington’s Soul is at Home in a Suburban Ranch

By Dan Kening - 1992

Schaumburg may seem like an unlikely home base for one of Chicago's most in-demand blues singers, but Robert Covington is not your average bluesman.

A native of Yazoo County, Mississippi—the birthplace of such blues icons as Skip James, Tommy McClennan and Robert Petway—he came north to Chicago in the mid-1960s and has lived in the northwest suburbs for the last 15 years.

Often performing seven nights a week in city and suburban clubs either with the house band at Kingston Mines in Lincoln Park, with the group Mississippi Heat, or with his own band, which bears his name, Covington is one of the few blues drummers who's successfully been able to come out from behind the drums and achieve frontman status. With a buttery baritone that recalls such classic blues singers as Bobby "Blue" Bland and Little Milton, there was no way that Robert Covington was going to remain hidden behind the drums forever.

Working the crowd on a recent Wednesday night at Kingston Mines, decked out in a three-piece suit and fedora, his declamatory vocal style on both originals and blues classics like Willie Dixon's "1 Just Want to Make Love to You" virtually lights up the room. On his own "Better Watch Your Step," Covington goes into an extended rap about his woman cheating on him. "1 know you weren't out with your best girlfriend last night 'cause she was with me!" It's a clever lyrical turnaround typical of Covington's approach to his music: "Don't just sing a song—tell a story."

"That man can sing some good blues," said octogenarian blues piano legend Sunnyland Slim, with whom Covington performs on drums and vocals Sundays at B.L.U.E.S. on Chicago's North Side, "He's a good drummer and a good man—he's excellent."

It should be noted that Sunnyland, who helped launch the careers of such blues giants as Waters and Wolf, is notoriously parsimonious with his praise. An-other Covington booster is Doc Pellegrino, owner of Kingston Mines, where Covington performs five nights a week.

"Robert puts a lot of heart and soul into what he's singing, and when you're in the audience it's as if he's singing just to you," he said. "And the people really seem to love him."

Indeed, at the end of his set Covington is surrounded by both new and old fans, all waiting to pay their compliments.

"Sometimes onstage you have such a feeling of control, like you have the audience in the palm of your hand," said Covington after the show. "It's like you can't do or say anything wrong."

Covington lives in a neat-as-a-pin ranch house just off Roselle Road that he shares with his wife, Ernestine, and daughter, Tiffany, a junior at Schaumburg High School. A son, Keifer, a senior majoring in criminal law at Southern Illinois University, worked for the Schaumburg Police Department as a bicycle patrolman this past summer.

Wearing a blue T-shirt and dark glasses, Covington's gravelly voice reveals that he's recently climbed out of bed, having worked until 4 a.m. the previous night at King-ston Mines, No overt signs that a musician lives there are obvious. In fact, the decor bears the distinct signs of Ernestine's feminine touch.

Covington credits his wife, affectionately known as Ernie, with his move to suburbia. He finds the relative peacefulness of suburban life an antidote to the boisterousness of his work world.

"I like how serene it is here compared to the city, said Covington, gazing out through the glass patio door to his well-manicured backyard. "Before that I lived all over the city of Chicago—north, south, east and west. In the city, no matter what time of the day or night it is there's always a bunch of people hanging out on the street.  \

"Ernie Covington, who owns the Schaumburg resale-consignment shop Next To Nothing near their home, offers a portrait of the bluesman as homebody.

"Robert likes to cook, and he's a good one," she said. "His specialty is seafood, especially fried fish. I know that when I come home from work we're going to eat fish nearly every day. The only time I can get the fish smell out of the house is when he goes on tour to Europe.

"He also likes cleaning the house. When he's not working he's really a homebody," she added. "He's not into hanging out like many musicians are. He'd rather be at home watching videos."

Covington's route to suburbia has been an interesting one. Born in Yazoo City, Miss., 50 years ago, he spent three years at what is now Alcorn State University. But despite his mother's desire for him to be a teacher and his own interest in journalism, music eventually won out. More specifically, when the bandleader for rhythm and blues kingpin Big Joe Turner put out a call that they needed a drummer for some Mississippi shows, Covington answered the call.

"I was no Gene Krupa back then, but I got pretty good playing drums in college," lie said.

With such hits as "Shake, Rattle and Roll" and "Honey Hush" to his credit, Turner was a certified legend, a larger-than-life figure with a booming voice. Covington's first professional gig was one he'll never forget.

"We're all up onstage at the nightclub waiting for him to come on, and I was real nervous because I still hadn't met him," said Covington. "You see, he never came to rehearsals. Finally he comes waddling through the crowd to get to the stage and I could immediately see that he was stone drunk. When he finally got on-stage, he was weaving and rocking so much that he finally just tipped over the front of the stage and fell right off it. Bottles and glasses were flying all over, the audience was screaming, and I started laughing. I couldn't help it. The bandleader fined me $25 for laughing, and I was only making $15 a night."

Such was Covington's initiation into show business. Later he led his own band in Mississippi, com-ing north to Chicago in 1965 to escape an ill-fated first marriage. Knowing no other musicians in Chicago, it took him awhile to establish himself in the blues hierarchy, so he worked the second shift at factory jobs to pay the rent.

"I started to sit in at juke joints on the South and West Sides when I got off work," he said. "I used to go into some of the most danger-Otis places you ever saw, but that was where you found the real low-down blues."

Gradually he worked his way up in Chicago's insular blues scene, playing both on stage and in the recording studio with a who's who of blues stars that includes Buddy Guy, Junior Wells, Lonnie Brooks, Fenton Robinson and James Cot-ton. By the mid-1970s he was a fixture behind the drums at the city's North Side blues clubs.

Covington's secret weapon was a singing voice that was often better than that of the people he backed up. The title of Covington's 1988 album on the local Red Beans record label, "The Golden Voice of Robert Covington," is no brag. His longstanding Sunday night gig with Sunnyland Slim aside, it's rare these days that you'll find Covington behind a drum kit. Now he's a legitimate frontman.

"I recognized the quality of his entertaining ability, and it was get-ting lost behind the drums," said Kingston Mines' Pellegrino, whom Covington credits with helping establish him as a singer who also plays drums, as opposed to a drummer who sings. "I convinced him to come out from behind the drums, and now I think he's really a great entertainer."

"No matter how good you are, people always look at drummers as just sidemen," said Covington. "I figured I'd wait until it was my time, and now it is my time."

There's no doubt that Covington is serious about his career. With his steady gig at Kingston Mines, work with Sunnyland Slim and occasional dates with Mississippi Heat at clubs like Slice of Chicago in Palatine, Covington is perhaps the hardest-working man on the blues scene.

"The thing is, I remember those lean years when I first came to Chicago and was wishing for work," he said. "So now I'm sort of superstitious about turning work down. In this business it's ei-ther feast or famine. And luckily right now I'm feasting."

"Robert lives for his career," said wife Ernie. "The only time I've seen him really upset is when he had kidney problems five years ago and was on dialysis. His doctors told him he had to give up playing music, but he's tough. He really loves what he's doing. If he had to choose between giving up his music or giving up me, I'm not sure which he would choose."

After his kidneys failed as a result of complications of high blood pressure, Covington had a kidney transplant. He says that his brush with death totally changed his outlook on life.

"Before that I used to take life for granted," he said. "I just didn't give a damn. But now I have a sense of purpose, so 1 try to make every day count and be meaningful. I try to instill that in my kids, that there are no shortcuts in life. We were all put here for a reason and we should find the best way to make things happen for our-selves."

One place where Covington is especially in demand these days is in Europe. Just back from his third European tour this year alone, Covington, like many Chicago blues musicians, relishes his jaunts overseas.

"There's a big, big market for blues and jazz in Europe," he said. "The people respect the blues so much more there, especially traditional blues. They know who you recorded with, who you played with, everything you've ever done. They treat you like a king.

"You know, I've come a long way, and I'm proud of what I've accomplished. My mother and father never left Mississippi, nor did a lot of the friends I grew up with. I wish they could have seen sonic of the places I've been to and met some of the people I've met. Every time in an airplane flying off to Europe I think to myself, 'Damn, not bad for a country boy from Mississippi!'"

In January 17, 1996, Covington succumbed to complications from diabetes.

Chicago Tribune, Feb 16, 1996.