I believe it was 1972 when the 59-minute documentary film entitled Chicago Blues was released.  Chicago Blues not only examined the continuum of the great city’s blues scene at the time, but it also surveyed the life of Blacks in Chicago’s ghetto communities; the pressures and liabilities of being reconciled to life within these areas. 

The documentary addresses the Great Migration out of the Southern U.S. to Chicago and the reasons for it, how the relocation of these individuals brought north the blues as originally structured, and why and how urbanized influences challenged the music to change to the new way of life found in a metropolitan area. 

Addressing the weights and burdens of Chicago’s Blacks at the time of the film are Dick Gregory, the American comedian, writer, activist, and social observer, while the Reverend Ray Riddick also lends invaluable insight as to the political climate as it pertained to south and west side Chicago residents.  Additionally, Chicago Alderman A.A. Rayner contributes telling understandings facing Blacks in 1970s-era Chicago.  Plus, Studs Terkel, the Pulitzer Prize winning writer and long-time Chicago resident and historian, brings worthy framings to the Chicago Black experience formed over his many years in the city, his great interest in its people, and his deep appreciation for the city’s varied musical genres and practitioners.  And, Bob Koester, the visionary of both Delmark Records and owner of the Jazz Record Mart, also had his thumb on the heartbeat of the blues and its place in the city in the early 1970s, and his comprehensions in the documentary are also beneficial. 

By the early 1970s, the initial post-war Chicago blues giants and their blues brands were fading in popularity, and along with the day’s social pressures and encumbrances being brought to bear, the music was changing into a new, loud, and highly electrified type of blues that was emerging out of the west side.  It was anxious and enflamed, with bluesmen such as Buddy Guy, Otis Rush, Magic Sam, and Freddie King, among others, wielding the power of their musical artistic crafts to signify the unease in their areas of Chicago.

The whole of Chicago Blues is an affecting and penetrating analysis of Chicago at a point in time, and how the blues continued to play a role in the city’s cultural fabric.  There is a coarse authenticity presented in the film as to how both Chicago as a city and how its politics and social standing was ordered, and as to how the blues is shown in the south and west side joints where it was being performed; the dimly-lit, smokey, and dangerous places that they were.

As important as the film’s narration and the commentary of the political figures and others who are heard, equally as important are how the performers themselves present their views on the blues itself, their career arcs or lack thereof, and the position of the music itself within the greater city’s societal rankings.  There are some rather bleak comments from Floyd Jones as to how he feels his work will or won’t be remembered, while J.B. Hutto seems to bask in his comfortable niche in the blues.  We find Muddy Waters regal and resplendent as a man who almost single-handedly shaped not only post-war blues but by a large degree of rock-n-roll, as well.  Plus, we see the rather disheartening reality of the phenomenally talented Buddy Guy resigned to some dank blues joint playing and singing his heart out with his myriad talents to a room of rather disinterested patrons.

In total, Chicago Blues is a fascinatingly telling work that places the work of a group of extremely talented group, and really, a generation, individuals who are attempting to make a go of it via their broad blues gifts not only in a city that was, at the time, racially and societally divided, but a country that was too, as well.

But the biggest surprise of Chicago Blues for me was the on-screen appearance of Johnie Lewis.  And I have to say, his insights and performances are, for me, some of the most exciting and revealing within the entirety of the documentary.

A man born in early October, 1908 in Eufaula, Alabama, Johnie Lewis was raised on a farm, being both a self-taught guitarist and singer.  From resources available, it seems that Lewis left home around the tender age of 14, and as such, he had to use any means possible, and in many different areas, to forge out something of a meager living.  All the while, Lewis was continuing to work on his guitar and vocal skill sets.  Eventually, like is seen with so many of the blues artist profiled here, Lewis had progressed his capabilities to sufficient levels to afford him the opportunities to perform at the social events like picnics and house parties.  By this time, Lewis had become particularly adept at the slide guitar style of playing.

Ultimately, Lewis, like so many of southern Blacks, had his fill of the extremely distressing realities of living in the segregated Southern U.S., so in the 1930s he made a decision to travel northward to Chicago, confident that both his varying labor skills and musical talents would afford him a better life in the big city.

In Chicago, Lewis was able to see and meet his main musical heroes including Tampa Red, though he also thought of guitarists Barbecue Bob and Blind Lemon Jefferson as two of his main blues influences, indicating his varied blues interests.  In Chicago, Lewis was able to establish himself in certain small blues joints as a performer.  And as important, he was also able to channel his broad laboring background into a profession as a house painter.  In fact, in the Chicago Blues documentary, we are treated to a glimpse of Lewis working in such a capacity.

Though not entirely explainable, it was through his house painting endeavors that Lewis’ high blues capabilities became known to Henry Cokeliss, the director, producer, and filmmaker who made Chicago Blues.  Because of this introduction, Lewis’ full arsenal of maddeningly great blues knowhows are placed front-and-center in the documentary, including a terrific sequence where he performs “Hobo Blues,” with Lewis putting on a blues guitar clinic with his slide guitar patterns and usage of the instrument to mimic train sounds, a song that also highlights his formidable voice.  Interestingly, his wife appears in a shadowed background at the same table where Lewis sits and performs.

There is also a second performance with Lewis (in both of which he is formally dressed in a suit) where he plays guitar, blows kazoo (he was also said to a harmonica player), and he delivers a stellar instrumental, and a final snippet where he offers a spiritual tune, one that underlines his great religious beliefs.  Interspersed are conversations where Lewis indicates the struggle he had to continue to earn a living, and shots of his home’s interior and the pictures that line its walls.  Simply, the power of Lewis’ blues and gospel, and his astounding musical gifts, startle in light of how unknown he was then, and remains even to this day.

Due to Lewis’ inclusion in Chicago Blues, he was able to parlay his appearance into two recording sessions in Chicago in 1970 and 1971 that resulted in the 1971 release on the Arhoolie Records label entitled Alabama Slide Guitar, a 12-selection offering of Lewis’ great blues and spiritual work.  Arhoolie Records re-released Lewis’ work in 1997 with an expanded 18-cut CD, one that culled the very best from the two recording sessions, a compilation that includes blues harmonica great Charlie Musselwhite on one song.

Now, I have seen and read certain overviews of both Lewis and his music where both have been described as “…a decent, if unexceptional singer and guitarist in the traditional Southern style…”  Also, I have seen his music designated as, “…a solid journeyman entry in the field.”  I’ve even been quite insulted to read one’s account of his playing as how he, “…get in some nifty laidback licks.”  What a condescending tone!

As someone who has been around the blues for decades, and I hate to play this card, but also as an academic who earned his post-graduate degree with a thesis based upon a certain aspect of blues music, I am quite confident that Lewis’ talents were extraordinary, and for the fact that he chose to work as a painter first to provide for his family while largely eschewing the nightlife and blues realm, he perhaps left much “on the table,” should he have been more frequent a player on the scene and thus possibly have been able to turn that exposure into a series of recording opportunities. 

As it was, Lewis’ two sessions for Arhoolie Records came from the aforementioned chance encounter with the Chicago Blues filmmaker, and even then, Lewis was thought of sufficiently high skills to be afforded not one, but two sessions for the label.  He was just that talented! 

Lewis’ country blues, hokum, and spirituals, in addition to his expertise on guitar, kazoo, harmonica, and vocals yet again demonstrate the vast wealth of blues talent that one time called Chicago home.  The stars aligned, as is said, when he was plucked from great obscurity for exposure in the Chicago Blues documentary.  I propose that one listen by the uninitiated to his work for Arhoolie Records and they will find his work superb and on par with any of the period.

Johnie Lewis passed away two days shy of his 84^th birthday in Chicago in 1992.

For those interested in Lewis’ work, there is no better place to start than the terrific collections below:

• Johnie Lewis – Alabama Slide Guitar – Arhoolie Records label #CD 9007 – on CD
• Various Artists – 19 Tracks From The Film Chicago Blues – M.I.L. Multimedia label #MIL6116 – on CD