The Junior Wells Article
by
John Gorny
I consider myself fortunate to be able to say that I met Jr. Wells in person. I also think that in the days following his death he may have said good bye to me. I know it sounds crazy but I’ll try to explain it to you.
The first time I had ever heard about Jr. Wells was in 1968 when I was only 13 years old. The “underground” FM radio stations around Chicago didn’t seem to have any type of rigid rules as far as their formats were concerned. It was easy to hear just about any style of music including Jr. Wells. I was already familiar with Muddy Waters and Little Walter. Then one day I heard a recording called Buddy and the Juniors. It was an all acoustic LP with Buddy Guy, Jr. Wells, and Jr. Mance. I was fascinated. I had to get that album. I just didn’t know where to go to find it. Sometime later, a friend of mine who also heard the record told me that you could get just about any jazz or blues record at a place at 7 W. Grand Ave. in Chicago. It was Bob Koester’s Jazz Record Mart.
I had a sister who lived in the city at that time. She used to invite me out to stay with her over a weekend on a somewhat regular basis. She said she would take me to the place. I went in for an album but received a real experience. A patient Bob Koester showed me more than I knew existed. It was not the last time I went to that funky little store.
As the years went by, Bob got to know me pretty well as one of his regular customers. One day I told him that I would be celebrating my 19th birthday soon. He asked the date and then asked me a question. “How would you like to celebrate it at a Blue Monday Session down at Theresa’s on the South Side? As a harp player you’d probably want to see Jr. Wells. At nineteen you’ll be old enough to get in”. I couldn’t believe what I heard. I said yes! He told me to meet him at the store the following Monday.
The day of my trip, my parents were trying everything they could to stop me from going. They were convinced I would never come back alive. Unfortunately, the only things they knew about the people on Chicago’s South Side were what the TV news shows would air at 10 PM. I told them I was going to see Jr. Wells. There was nothing they could do to stop me.
I met Bob at the store. He was with his brother whose name I have forgotten. We drove down to Theresa’s at 4801 S. Indiana Ave. The place was in the basement of an apartment building on the Southeast corner of the intersection of 48th Street and Indiana Ave. As we stepped down, a rather large man who held a chain across the entrance met us. He knew Bob and let the chain down. We walked through the long, narrow space to seats that were open right in front of the band. We were sitting on chairs that must have been taken out of a grammar school. We were also sitting at tables that were school desks. I sat so close to the band that there was no room between the performers and me at all. It was great! At nineteen years old I could only drink beer and wine according to the law at that time. I ordered a beer and put it down on the “table”. Then after a local singer was finished it was time for Jr. Wells.
As Jr. took to the “stage” there was a buzz from the patrons in the bar. Up to this point they had simply listened politely to the music. Now they got excited. So did I. No more than 6 inches away from me stood Jr. Wells. As he performed, he ordered two shots from the barmaid. She put them down on the desk I was sitting at. Then Jr. took one of the shots and poured ½ of it into my beer. I tried to tell him through my motions that he shouldn’t do that. He was breaking the law. But Jr. looked at me with an expression on his face and motioned with his hands as if to say I didn’t have to worry. Jr. played on. It was a musical heaven on earth. At the end of the night Bob introduced me to Jr. He told him that I was celebrating my 19th birthday. Jr. seemed genuinely glad to know that. He gave me a hug and said I hope you had a happy birthday. Man, did I ever!
In the years that followed I saw Jr. Wells whenever I could. Then came the day when I heard about his death. I knew I had to go to say good-bye. I drove to the Rayner Funeral Home on the South Side the day of his burial. I should’ve gotten there a lot earlier. The place was packed. I was in the hall listening to the tributes from Lee Oskar, Sugar Blue, and others. Then I began to realize something. Although there seemed to be a lot of people who were grieving the loss of Jr. Wells, there were plenty of people treating it like an event that they were trying to be seen at. As time went on the atmosphere took on the feeling of a carnival. A man in the chapel was on the PA like a barker. He was exhorting anyone with anything to say about Jr. to come up and speak. People in the hall who were at the lower levels of show business appeared to be hanging out looking to see who was going to see them. A solemn occasion was turning into a sideshow. In my head I said goodbye to Jr. and left for home. I’d seen enough.
When I got on the air at WPNA the following Sunday night, I told people what I saw at the funeral. I was speaking about the whole affair. I said that if Jr. was watching from the next world, the people that were genuine in saying good-bye probably touched him. I then said that he probably laughed at the people who were just trying to be seen. At that point something very strange took place. Something you won’t believe. Something I wouldn’t have believed had it not happened to me.