Phil Guy’s great blues band used to roll through Mishawaka, Indiana’s Center Street Blues Café in the mid-to-late 1980s.  It was always a treat for area blues fans to have Guy bring his special brand of blues to town, and he was enthusiastically welcomed each time he performed.

In addition to Guy’s stinging Fender Telecaster-generated lead guitar energies, he always had this rather mysterious second guitar player in tow, a man who didn’t project a lot of outward emotion from the bandstand, someone who methodically plied his trade, cigarette affixed to his guitar’s headstock, rendering masterful six-string undertones behind Guy’s cutting leads.

Many of us who called the club home reveled in the fact that we were able to approach the blues artists who played there, and as the blues men and woman more regularly performed there, friendships and relationships developed.  And such was the case with Guy.  But this enigmatic man who played guitar with Guy was somewhat distant; not aloof, just detached from the unfurling blues scene in the club.  He appeared perhaps moody, possibly even anxious, as he always seemed more comfortable upon the bandstand that down milling with the audience.

This is not to say, however, that he was rude or outwardly peevish with those who approached him for a word or two, or maybe a photo.  He did always fulfill the fans’ desires to meet their revered blues personalities, of which he was viewed by the club’s supporters.  He was seen as a real-deal Chicago blues man, he looked and played the part, and certainly, his on-stage aura merited these overtones.

He somewhat lurked in and favored the shadows when with Guy, but a knowledgeable blues fan heard the mastery of his blues guitar proficiencies, and was able to put into context the high level of achievement being displayed.  When he took a lead, he confidently fabricated runs of tough and intricate worth, and when he was called upon to step-up and sing, he conveyed the blues like someone who had done it for many years on many stages in many venues, and with the deep well of framework of someone who had actually lived a blues life.

When I rallied the mettle to approach this rather sullen, yet very interesting, man to engage in conversation, I learned that his name was Johnny Dollar, and he remains one of the most real of all the Chicago blues men I ever knew.  His was an interesting story.

Not a lot is known; perhaps it is known, but not disseminated about Johnny Dollar’s early years, other than he was born in 1941 or 1945 (the first contradiction) in Greenville, Mississippi as John Louis Sibley.  And here is the rub for someone like me who likes to learn as much detail about the blues and its practitioners as possible; again, there just isn’t a lot of chronicled information about Dollar’s life.  Things get even more confusing with the knowledge that he also had known moniker of Johnny Williams.

So, I am compelled to rely upon more professional aspects of Dollar’s existence, and certain allusions regarding his character.  Some of the details I provided above suggest, at least, the prototypical affirmations regarding the model bluesman; shadowy, sullen, and detached.  But from what I’m able to glean from others, Dollar was also known for appreciating the loveliness of the ladies, and for the joys of a drink; again, not uncommon among general society, and certainly not within the blues.  But there appears to be much more in play here with Dollar.

In the 1960s, Dollar played with famed Chicago blues man Magic Sam, a tenure that was followed by eight total years as a U.S. Marine, including two tours of duty in Viet Nam.  He came home to Chicago uninjured, and resumed a music career with a group named Johnny Dollar And The Soundmasters, an aggregation that was devoted to R&B.  Johnny Dollar And The Soundmasters Band was primarily comprised of members of a family with the Fisher surname.  According to discgos.com, the group cut a 1972 single entitled “Your Love Has Got Me” for the Fised Records label.

After leaving the Johnny Dollar And The Soundmasters, Dollar pursued his musical career across the Chicago landscape.  But first, one more element of Dollar’s life must be broached.  He joined the Chicago Police Department in the 1970s, working some of the roughest areas of Chicago.  He was said to have walked a beat in these threatening locales.  It is known that Dollar was shot numerous times in his life (though it is unclear how many of these shootings took place inside and outside of his police department career), including wounds to his stomach, back, and head.  An injury sustained on the job with the police department in the late 1970s did end his law enforcement career.

Dollar was a highly-respected blues musician, and his broad reach of talents were in-demand on many recordings not under his name.  For the Isabel label, Dollar recorded with Chicago blues man Sammy Lawhorn on his After Hours LP, a 1980 outing, along with Jimmy Witherspoon on his Spoon’s Life collection, a 1981 release.  In addition, on Isabel, Dollar accompanied Chicago’s Melvin Taylor on his Blues On The Run LP, a collection that saw the light of day in 1982. 

But importantly for Dollar, he also recorded for Isabel, releasing a superb 1982 LP entitled My Soul Is Blue, and a 1986 album on the B.L.U.E.S. R&B Recording label entitled J.D.’s Blues.  Dollar also had a CD released on Wolf Records in 2001 entitled My Baby Loves Me, Chicago Blues Session Vol. 55. 

A 1984 single with “Hey Stevie They’re Playing The Blues In Chicago” / “J.D.’s Blues” for the B.L.U.E.S. R&B Recording label, along with an obscure McCormick Records single with “Girl Your Mama Told Ya” / “Fool I Want To Be.”  The exact release date of that single is unclear.

In addition to the shootings Dollar endured, there is one more unfortunate incident that greatly impacted Dollar’s life.  In late 1999, Dollar was hit by an automobile, an event that resulted in a broken pelvis and arm, plus a head injury that plagued his memory and caused disorientation.  Immediately after the accident, Dollar was at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago in a coma, and he was, for whatever reason, listed as a “John Doe.”  Only after he was transferred to another hospital on Chicago’s west side was his true identity learned because someone took the time to look through his bagged clothes from the night of the accident, discovering his wallet with his ID included.  Dollar endured months of physical therapy, and like the proverbial Phoenix, returned to performing on Thanksgiving night in 2000, singling and playing guitar like he always had.

After this, Dollar continued to play the clubs and joints over his remaining career and life, and turns at Chicago north side spots B.L.U.E.S. and Lilly’s are remembered by this writer.  He even made trips to Europe to perform.  And, out-of-town jobs like the aforementioned with Phil Guy remained a part of his musical existence.

Johnny Dollar was a justly modern electric Chicago blues man.  He combined blues, funk, and soul elements not only into his song writing, but in his guitar playing, and singing, as well.  His Isabel Records, B.L.U.E.S. R&B Recording, and Wolf Records collections, I feel, ideally capture the whole of Dollar’s wide musical influences and life experiences.  He was able to inject his blues with the entirety of the varied emotions gained from his musical and personal journeys, and was able to communicate them to his audiences, either in-performance or via his recordings.

This is where it again gets murky for me regarding Johnny Dollar.  I do remember learning that he suffered with congestive heart failure.  His latter period career between 2000 and when he died is something of an informational void.  Dollar passed away on August 29, 2006 in Chicago. 

For all that Dollar had undergone in his life, it was a blessing to blues fans that his brand of blues, with its soul and funk ingredients, is still available for consideration and enjoyment for those willing to do the work to find the LPs, CDs, and singles.  And, there is no denying the valuable contributions he made to the recorded work of others.  I will fondly remember Dollar’s performances in my hometown with Phil Guy, and seeing up-close a true blues man at work.  To me, Dollar was, as I said previously, the real-deal.  He authentically lived a blues life.