Lefty’s limo (old school)

FREDERIC JOHN Artist/Vendor

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m the “MxM Man,” that is, mnemonics and mentorship. Those are my motherships to creativity. Now, in July of 1975, my obsession with channeling B.B. King on vocals and guitar led me down a uniquely venturesome path. Having apprenticed since June 1972 on the Smithsonian Mall for the Folklife Festival, by this time (fourth year of humping ice and changing music cassettes), I was no richer monetarily but a Midas of blues experience. Besides, Mr. Ralph Rinzker, the festival head honcho, had “spotted” my talent for helping southern blues folk around D.C.

This social knack hit a high plateau in ‘75, for I was now a fully vested D.C. driver. My culture-craving parents had wisely (I thought!) handed me the keys to their 1972 forest green and black vinyl-top Chevy Impala with “four-barrel” 390 horsepower under the hood.

My “protectors” in the Chicago blues cabal had been the Williams clan. There were five, rangy, pompadoured brothers, up from the delta of Greenwood, Miss., who had firmly planted their music roots in the steel and concrete of the Windy City.

“Boy! You got a bad ride. Let’s drive around,” growled Lefty Dizz (born Walter Williams), the eldest and most extroverted of the aforementioned fratelli.

His brother Woody, next in line, had a sweet but rasping tenor and specialized in Wilson Pickett and Sam Cooke’s songbook. Other siblings included “Greedy Man,” who pounded any piano he could get a hold of with both hands.

Lefty had no problem bringing “company” in the form of affluent young Chevy Chase debutantes, but one night he dismissed all his brothers and new admirers and announced “We’re hittin’ the Harold. The proprietor wants me to do a set or two…” Herein it’s relevant for me to explain Lefty was a three ring circus of his own design.

Not only did he play a clean rhythm on his scarred Telecaster (including trips to Africa and Europe with Junior Wells and Buddy Guy), but his waves framed his face like Hendrix, and he purred a vocal just like Albert King! The crowd wouldn’t let him go ‘til after midnight. Lefty went off-mic repeatedly, making them weep particularly on “Perschal Manager…”