Tefteller Time Travel

If a time machine could propel him back a century, to one pre-war blues recording session with one artist, which musician would he choose?

This question gave the John Tefteller pause. He admits he'd never been asked that before. 

A world-renowned collector of pre-war 78-rpm records, John's passion is country blues, rare so-called "race records" made between 1927 and 1935.

It's a thrilling thought—moving through time and space to be present in a rough makeshift recording studio, a lone now-legendary blues musician with his guitar at a primitive microphone, recording engineers and their rudimentary gear in the adjacent room, capturing music for the ages. 

"C'mon, you can't give me one. At least three or four," John moans. 

Okay then, three wishes.

John rubbed the proverbial genie's bottle and spoke his first wish: "The most interesting to me would be Mississippi John Hurt. Of all the blues singers out there, he'd be number one. Some people don't even consider him a blues singer," muses John.

Why John Hurt? 

"I just love the way he plays, gentle, not aggressive. It's pure joyous music. They say he was the kindest, most gentle person."

Imagine traveling back in time to Monday, February 14, 1928, and entering the McCall Building in Memphis, where OKeh engineers had set up a temporary recording studio. A far cry from John Hurt's modest home in rural Avalon, Mississippi, the looming eleven-story building must have been intimidating to Hurt, who recalls the session as follows: 

"...a great big hall with only the three of us in it: me, the man (Tommy G. Rockwell, the recording director for OKeh), and the engineer. It was really something. I sat on a chair, and they pushed the microphone right up to my mouth and told me that I couldn't move after they had found the right position. I had to keep my head absolutely still. Oh, I was nervous, and my neck was sore for days after." (Ratcliffe, Philip R. (2011). MIssissippi John Hurt: His Life, His Times, His Blues. University Press of Mississippi)

Were John Tefteller the fourth person in that hall, he would have heard Hurt's signature syncopated, rhythmic sound and gentle voice on "Frankie," "Nobody's Dirty Business," plus the six other sides that have never been found. 

Back to the time machine. Who's next on John Tefteller's list—a country blues legend he'd like to see record live in the pre-war era?

"Skip James at Paramount recording 22-20." 

A pinnacle of blues rarity, 22-20 Blues was covered by Robert Johnson who likely learned it from James himself. Johnson renamed the song "32-20 Blues." 

"There was an ethereal quality about Skip James' music. It was like a sound from another world," John says. "His voice, that special quality, his voice soars and does all these little things. It's very sad."

"To see him at the height of his powers, that would be fabulous," John adds. 

Combining an unusual open D-minor guitar tuning with intricate fingerpicking set against his eerie, high falsetto vocals, it's said James' early recordings could make the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

Peering through the keyhole back to the first Skip James sessions would propel John through time to late January 1931 in Grafton, Wisconsin, where Paramount's recording studio was located. 

Referred to as a "barn," the roughshod studio was on the second floor in a deserted factory, an all-wood building more than 80 years old at the time, according to Paramount scholar and author Alex van der Tuuk in his book, "Paramount's Rise and Fall" (2003, 2012, 2019). Two rooms comprised the studio. The control room housed recording equipment, separated by a wall with an inset window and door to the actual studio where musicians performed. A piano and guitar were standard equipment in the studio. 

And there would be a bluesman, 29-year-old Nehemiah Curtis "Skip" James, having traveled on a segregated Illinois Central passenger train from Jackson, Mississippi to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, ticket paid for by Jackson talent scout H.C. Speir. Greeting Skip in Milwaukee and transporting him 20 miles north to Grafton would be Art Laibly, recording manager for Paramount.

Had John been able to time travel back to the late January 1931 piano session to hear James' amazing impromptu "22-20 Blues," he would have likely witnessed Laibly placing a board beneath Skip's feet, and a recording engineer positioning a third microphone to capture Skip's foot-tapping that can be clearly heard on his "22-20 Blues." 

Skip recorded this tune on the second of three days in Grafton, along with 25 more sides he claimed to have recorded for Paramount. When Laibly prompted him to come up with a song about a gun, Skip thought for a few minutes, then reeled off a spontaneous tune about a non-existent caliber: 

"If I send for my baby, and she don't come

All the doctors in Wisconsin, sure won't help her none.

And if she gets unruly, and gets so she won't 'do'

I'll take my 22-20, I'll cut her half in two."

As Skip repeated the second verse, he pounded on the board beneath his feet, as if to convey the violence he would inflict on his make-believe lover. 

Imagine being a fly on the wall for that. 

It's John Tefteller's pipedream.

So who is third on John Tefteller's time travel list of pre-war blues legends he'd like to see record live?

"Son House. He was an extraordinarily powerful performer. He had that powerful voice and driving pounding guitar," says John, adding that House's 1930 "Walking Blues" was phenomenal.

It was the year before Skip James recorded for Paramount in Grafton that a carload of Mississippi Delta blues musicians arrived in Grafton, in August of 1930. Among them was Eddie James "Son" House, Jr.

Well lubricated with Prohibition-era illegal liquor they swigged during the 700-mile drive north, House and his fellow musicians Charley Patton, Willie Brown and Louise Johnson all played over several days in Grafton. 

Had John been able to travel back in time to the Paramount studio where House first recorded, he would have witnessed the now-legendary bluesman record nine sides. Eight of them were released, including "Clarksdale Moan" and "My Black Mama - Part 1 & Part 2." 

House also recorded his own "Walkin' Blues" with Willie Brown accompanying him on a second guitar. Paramount made a test pressing of the song, but it was unissued and lost until 1985 when the test pressing was offered at a yard sale in Waukegan, Illinois and scooped up by a collector; it is now in the hands of Richard Nevins, who runs the 78 reissue label Yazoo Records. In 1991 Nevins released the long-lost track, missing for 60 years, on his Yazoo label. But a remastered or fully restored version of it is yet to be released.

It sure would have been nice to hear Son House play his own "Walkin' Blues" live in the Paramount studio back in 1930, muses John.