Meeting Peter Guralnick & Dick Waterman at the Bluebird Cafe

I pointed my VW south on a blindingly sunny Sunday afternoon & plowed through the slushy streets after a weekend winter storm dumped 6 inches of heavy snow, nearly paralyzing central Tennessee. I aimed towards the Bluebird Cafe, housed weirdly in a strip mall along upscale Hillsboro Pike, eager to meet the roots-music writer extraordinaire Peter Guralnick. But just parking in that snow-packed little lot was a challenge. Nashville's philosophy when it comes to snow removal is laissez-faire a la Dixie: just wait for it to melt, y'all.

The guest of honor & interview subject at that photo-show/book-signing reception was Dick Waterman, a non-performer member of the Blues Hall of Fame & the man who found the long-gone legend Son House sitting on a porch in Avalon, Mississippi in 1964 & revived his career via stellar performances at the Newport Folk Festival. Mr. Waterman is an accomplished photographer, a native of Massachusetts who now resides in Oxford (Miss.). He specializes in gorgeous black/white prints from his vast collection of portraits of famous rock & blues musicians in action as well as at rest. He told riveting stories of his days as a friend, manager & booking agent for such greats as Mississippi John Hurt, Lightnin' Hopkins, Mance Lipscomb, Fred MacDowell, Bukka White, Sleepy John Estes & later Bonnie Raitt & Buddy Guy (both Rock & Roll Hall of Famers).

Here are a few gems he shared with the crowded room of admirers:

* "Skippy" James, a vain man who spoke of himself in the third person, pausing to inhale a smoke before addressing a brash interloper (who picked up Skip's guitar, attempted a Jamesian riff & dared to ask how it sounded) with withering cool disdain: "Skip has come and gone from places that you will never get to."

* "I rubbed Ray Charles," Dick boasted. He met the incomparable master of soul after a show once & told him how wonderful his concert in Rome had been. Ray sucked coolly on a cigarette, apparently lost in some romantic reverie. "Rome..." he finally said, adding a second dramatic pause. "Nice town."

* Robert "Pete" Williams recalling the act of self-defense that unjustly landed him in Angola (Louisiana's infamous state penitentiary) for years. An angry stranger with a pistol approached him in a bar, mistaking him for another man. Pete pulled an owl-headed Derringer & tried briefly to convince the attacker that he was mistaken. "I give him the first shot," Pete said casually, as though the guy had merely thrown a punch instead of firing a bullet. "Then I had to burn that man."

Dick answered my question about his 1966 photo of Phil Ochs playing in a halo of smoke with a long sympathetic reminiscence of the radical folkie who committed suicide in April 1976. He complained that he hasn't yet gotten to photograph Dolly Parton. And he remarked that he was astounded by Dylan's evolution in style & image from 1963 to '65; his b/w photos of Dylan in a polka-dot shirt at Newport in 1965 are among his favorites. In his discussion with Guralnick, Waterman also gave kudos to Al Green, Merle Haggard & Solomon Burke.

Speaking of the King of Rock & Soul, I got Peter Guralnick to autograph my battered copy of his brilliant book "Sweet Soul Music." I asked him to sign alongside the photo of him in the early 1980s with his arm anchored to the imposing, complex, sweet-natured giant Solomon Burke: "To Joe - with all good wishes," the thoughtful Mr. Guralnick wrote (even though I didn't buy the book of Waterman's photographs to which he contributed). A very good day for me in Music City, but I'm glad that February has arrived. Soon spring will bring showers & flowers instead of ice & darkness.