photograph by Michael P. Smith

there was an apartment down on Decataur street, next door to Barry Kaiser, who still lives there, and it looked out on the warehouses and the mississippi and the empty steet on the edge of town. Not many tourists there in those days, 1981, 82, and that was when i lived there, from time to time, in the big empty apartment with the tin roof.

I met Booker through dr. john, who told me Booker was the real thing, to go down and check him out. It was near me in the quarter, and the place was tiny, and his appearance there was very casual, like he just dropped in and decided to play. He was very shy, withdrawn, but seemed to me to be just a man who had dug a place too deep inside himself to stay in and now it was too far to come up to bother with visiting with people. We talked sometimes, but mostly i sat there looking at his back, or part of his face, and he played the piano. There might be three other people in there. And that was how we met.

this photograph was taken the night we all went to hear Professor Longhair making what would be his final recording. I watched him record Tipatina, and witnessed so many new orleans players, legends even then, gather there that night. Mac with his cane and mojo, the diminutive professor, spry and very young. I shook his ancient hand.

Wish I could tell you what song I was singing here, but I am not sure. I think it was Since I Fell, because I use to do that in the early days, and that would have been one we could have done off the cuff.

my thanks to the old pirates, then, to good time Charlie, who is doing some time now in a prison somewhere, and to his wife, and to Barry, for always being so full of that good southern hope every time I go down there. To Rusty, for giving me that apartment, and other gifts as well, and to woody, and all the rest. Thanks for this photo, what a great treasure after all these years.

Booker died then, much like he had lived, no one seemed to notice him, or maybe it was just that it would have been unbearable for him to have been noticed too much. I am glad to hear that people celebrate James Booker now. He would be really happy about that, in a quiet way, I think.

rlj