Back in 1991, when I was still on-the-air at WSND FM 88.9 with my late-night blues radio program, as was the norm, I attended the world’s largest free blues event, the Chicago Blues Festival.  Back in those days, my routine around the festival was set in stone.  I’d make sure I had a room for the duration of the festival at the Palmer House Hilton, a fine hotel very near Grant Park where the event was held.  I based myself out of the Palmer House because I was within a five-minute walk to the park, it was close to Miller’s Pub, one of my favorite casual restaurants in Chicago (by the way, a place renowned for their BBQ baby back ribs and chicken), plus it was where many of the festival’s performers stayed.  As an aside, I fondly remember one morning while walking out of the Palmer House when I ran into famed Texas blues guitar legend, Joe “Guitar” Hughes.  Hughes was a bluesman who toured and recorded with The Dukes Of Rhythm, Al “TNT” Braggs, Bobby “Blue” Bland, and The Upsetters, among other storied units and individuals.  Joe had his luggage with him as he awaited transportation outside the hotel.  I t was a warm morning in June, and Joe was stylish in a full suit.  I was carrying a cold can of Diet Coke, so I approached Joe and introduced myself, offering him the can of pop, which he graciously accepted, and so began a great conversation with one of the blues world’s most accomplished artists.  Encounters like this were not uncommon in and around the site of the Chicago Blues Festival.

On the 1991 day in question, I packed-up my small cooler with ice, pop, and some sandwiches, and headed over to Grant Park early in the morning.  I’ve always enjoyed, as they say, “getting the vibe” of a festival day by arriving early, walking the grounds, and planning which stages and artists I wanted to see and hear.  I was walking east on Jackson toward the Crossroads Stage, with its great visual backdrop of Lake Michigan behind it, and I stopped for a moment to consider some options.  As I looked up, I was thrilled to see walking toward me one of my all-time blues harmonica heroes, Snooky Pryor.  Though early in the day, Pryor was dapper in a full blue suit with an ornamental dress shirt buttoned all the way up that was well-complemented with a turquoise-bejeweled Bolo tie, with a dashing red hat upon his head.  Pryor was not alone, as he had in-tow the legendary blues bassist, Bob Stroger, and Chicago blues guitarist, James Wheeler.  I’ve never been shy to introducing myself to blues icons, so I simply walked-up to Pryor, politely presented myself, and initiated a conversation.  I found Pryor remarkedly down-to-earth, even after ingesting my raves about his blues music and place within the genre, and I asked for a photo, which he cordially granted.  He insisted, however, that I also get pictures with Stroger and Wheeler, after lauding them for their individual talents.  As we all departed, I was somewhat star-struck to have met and shared conversation with Pryor.  As he used to proclaim on the bandstand, “I am the one and only Snooky Pryor.”

Pryor, yet another in that long line of blues artists who heralded from Mississippi, has a birthday year that is difficult to pin down, as most accounts seem to suggest either 1919 or 1921.  In interviews and print, Pryor had stated that both Sonny Boy Williamson I and Sonny Boy Williamson II as his greatest influences.  The earliest musical recollections Pryor conveyed revolved around playing harmonica with two or three other individuals in Mississippi, including, interestingly, a young Jimmy Rogers, who had not, at that point, started playing guitar, a move that eventually led to him being a member of the greatest of the Muddy Waters band aggregations, plus an illustrious solo blues artist on his own grand merits.

Most accounts have Pryor moving to Chicago in 1940.  He spent time in the army, being discharged in 1945.  Reports from his military period suggest Pryor announced scheduled and non-scheduled events for the military base through the station’s public address equipment, a concept that opens the door to a bit of a controversy.

Upon Pryor’s discharge, he returned to Chicago, and bought an amplifier so he could begin work on the highly-competitive Chicago blues circuit, incorporating work at the famed open-air Maxwell Street market into his performing schedule.  This was a new phenomenon for the folks who met and listened to the blues artist on Maxwell Street, to hear this loud amplified sonic experience from a blues harmonica player.  Now, here’s where the controversy debate comes into the picture.  As said, Pryor was known to blow harmonica in the army to announce certain circumstances.  This implies that he was using a microphone to enhance his harmonica’s tone and volume to be heard.  It should be known that it is without question that Snooky recorded many of the finest early post-war blues songs, on labels such as Vee-Jay, J.O.B., and Parrot, among others, including “Telephone Blues’, “Boogie”, “Snooky & Moody’s Boogie”, “Stockyard Blues”, “Keep What You Got”, either under his own name, or with celebrated Chicago blues artists such as Baby Face Leroy, Moody Jones, and Floyd Jones, among others.  The fact that Snooky had incomparable blues harmonica skill was not a question, nor the controversary.

Rather, many have proffered that Pryor was indeed the first blues artist to amplify his harmonica by cupping the instrument close to the microphone to bolster its fullness of tone.  This claim provides a riddle, indeed.  Early photos exist of Sonny Boy Williamson #1 using the same technique on the bandstand, which would seem to refute the claim.   Also, as Chess Records’ star, Little Walter, was revolutionizing blues harmonica during this same period in Chicago, in what were his early formative years, he is noted to have recorded in 1946 using the amplified harmonica as a way to be heard above the band’s collective ensemble.  No matter, as in the end, the blues was forever changed by the amplification of the blues harmonica.

Pryor had a highly-percussive shuffling harmonica style, one that was always very familiar, and some would even say familiar to the point of repetitiveness, with his works employing very recognizable turnarounds.  But he always managed to keep it fresh and welcoming.  Pryor often used highly-rhythmic trilled notes in the high register to emphasize his musical points.  However, and this is very important, Pryor could also bring it down and present very full rich tones, in contrast to the higher register ascends, given the requirement of the blues he was playing, and its meaning.

Pryor played much in the southern states during the 1950s.  But, for all his talent and drive to succeed, he made the decision to relocate to downstate Illinois in 1967 to become both a carpenter and farmer.  He was dismayed by his lack of commercial success in the blues world that many of his contemporaries achieved.  For many years, it is as if the world didn’t know what happened to Pryor.  However, in the early 1970s, Pryor did venture to Europe with well-known Chicago blues artist Homesick James for a tour, one that provided them the opportunity to record a duet album.  And just like that, Pryor again retreated to southern Illinois life.

That is, until 1987, when Blind Pig released an album entitled Snooky, and the blues worlds found that both he and his blues skills were in fine form, plus that he was ready to again make blues his vocation.  This late-life reemergence was most welcome by blues fans worldwide, and Pryor was in-demand for “live” performances and recording opportunities.  He recorded a number of notable releases for the Blind Pig, Antone’s, and Electro-Fi labels, and played to ecstatic fans everywhere.

I can see Pryor on the Crossroads Stage at the Chicago Blues Festival in 1991, festooned in a vogueish hat with a prominent feather, surrounded by some of the greatest bluesmen as accompanists, including northern Texas hill country great Johnny Nicholas on piano, former Hound Dog Taylor band member Ted Harvey on drums, ageless timekeeper Bob Stroger on bass, and the skilled Derek O’Brien on guitar.  It was a glorious day near the Chicago lakefront, as Pryor led us down his blues trail with joy and eagerness.  The fine band that was assembled was knowledgeable of Pryor’s music, but moreover, also were respectful of his stature as a true pioneer of post-war Chicago blues harmonica, and Chicago blues, in general.  Pryor was like someone’s genial grandpa who made a living enriching the lives of others through his blues musical talents.  Snooky was a true link, a conduit, between pre-war and post-war Chicago blues.