Henry Townsend gone at 96
By Kevin Belford
For the St. Louis American
“It is a distressing period for the music industry and the world to lose the whimsical personality of a man affectionately known as ‘Mule,’” Bernie Hayes, local radio legend and music historian, said of Henry Townsend, who died Sunday, September 24, 2006 at the age of 96.
“Henry Townsend, the genius that he was, did more than any other local performer or composer to change the music of generations.”
Townsend passed in Grafton, Wisconsin, where he had been invited to perform at a blues festival held at the Wisconsin Chair Factory, the original location of the Paramount recording studios.
He was also being honored as the last surviving Paramount blues recording artist. Other inductees in the inaugural Paramount Blues Festival were Charley Patton, Ma Rainey, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Skip James and Thomas Dorsey.
St. Louis’ grandfather of the blues was a local landmark as significant as the Gateway Arch and nearly as well known nationally and internationally.
The legend was born October 27, 1909 near Shelby, Mississippi and came to St. Louis as a boy. He picked up the guitar and began hanging around the bluesmen of the city like guitarist Lonnie Johnson.
Townsend recalled, “We played what we called house rent parties. People were being evicted; we would have fish fries and raise money so they could pay the rent.”
Townsend first recorded in 1929 and continued recording in every subsequent decade. Besides Paramount, he recorded for Columbia and RCA Victor and was on countless recordings as an uncredited guitar or piano accompanist with other St. Louis legends like Big Joe Williams, Robert Nighthawk, Sonny Boy Williamson and Pinetop Sparks.
He said of his songwriting, “I find myself doing a lot of ad lib poetry.”
After a stint in the army, Townsend began playing with his good friends Walter Davis and Roosevelt Sykes in the nightspots of the city and East St Louis. He also took day jobs as refrigeration repair, salesman, bill collector, “whatever kind of jobs you could get without going to jail.”
The music gigs didn’t stop, and by the 1960s he was asked to record again and toured the world to perform at festivals. “Oh, I’ve been rediscovered three or four times,” Townsend said, with his deadpan sense of humor.
He also had a mind for negotiating. He explained his business philosophy: “How much you didn’t know was the price you had to pay.”
In 1985 he received the National Heritage Award in recognition of being a master artist. In 1995 he was inducted into the St. Louis Walk of Fame. For his birthday, BB’s Jazz, Blues and Soups held an annual party where Townsend never failed perform.
His first recording is a rare shellac 78 rpm platter; his last recording is a compact disc. He outlived his contemporaries and most of the generation after him. Blues legend B.B. King was born when Townsend was 16 and already working as a musician in St Louis.
One doesn’t endure an 80-year career without persistence, and somewhere along that ride Townsend was given the nickname “Mule.” Doing what he loved the way he wanted to do it was the reason for that nickname, and he was doing what he loved on the day he died.
His departure stunned many music fans.
“He was grandfatherly, commanded respect and very knowledgeable about people and the world,” said Fruteland Jackson.
“This is a final page in a chapter of the living history of the golden era of the blues,” said John May of the St. Louis Blues Society, who was as
close to Townsend as a blood relative and was with him when he died
peacefully
Silvercloud, a St. Louis pianist and friend of Townsend’s, spoke with Townsend the day before he left for Grafton. Silvercloud said, “I trusted him, believed in him and I loved his philosophy. He always had an answer that made sense.”
Visitation hours are from noon until 7 p.m., Sunday, October 1 at Layne
Renaissance Chapel, 7302 W. Florrisant. Townsend’s funeral
will be held Monday, October 2 at 11 a.m. at the Mount Nebo Church, 4981
Theodore Ave. with interment at 2 p.m. at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery.
“He has helped make the blues scene in St. Louis what it is today: a live music refuge where the young learn from the old,” Bernie Hayes said.
“His shoes are impossible to fill.
