DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I'm David Bianculli. Roy Book Binder, the raconteur and acoustic musician known for playing Southern blues and hillbilly music, died March 3 at the age of 82. Known as the Travelin' Man or the Book, he picked up the guitar after a tour of duty in the U.S. Navy, purchasing it in Italy. Once in the U.S., he became part of the folk and blues revival in New York's Greenwich Village. He sought out and became a student and then a friend of blues and gospel musician Reverend Gary Davis. Book Binder also went south to track down one of his favorite performers, Pink Anderson, who had played for decades in medicine shows.
Book Binder's debut album, "Travelin' Man," was released in the early 1970s on Adelphi Records to critical acclaim. Soon after, he took to the road for years in an Airstream motor home, traveling to major blues and folk festivals in the U.S. and Canada, and he also toured in Europe. He shared the stages with Bonnie Raitt, B.B. King, Doc Watson and more. In the late 1980s, he made nearly 30 appearances on "Nashville Now" on cable TV's The Nashville Network. He released more than a dozen albums overall, some on his own label, PEGleg Records. In 1987, Roy Book Binder brought his guitar to FRESH AIR to visit with Terry Gross, play music and tell some great stories.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)
TERRY GROSS: Roy Book Binder, welcome to FRESH AIR. And before we talk, can you get us started with a song?
ROY BOOK BINDER: Sure can.
(Singing) Call me a dog when I'm gone. It's old black dog when I'm gone. But when I get home with a $10 bill, it's, Daddy, where you been so long? Well, I've been all around Kentucky and the state of old Tennessee. Call me a dog when I'm gone, Lord, Lord. Old black dog when I'm gone. When I get home with a $10 bill, it's, Daddy, where you've been so long? My daddy was a gambling man from the state of old Tennessee. He told me to bet all of my money on ace, jack, that deuce and a trey.
Go pick it, Roy.
(Singing) See that train? It's coming, carrying my baby away. It's going off far to leave me. Ain't never coming back my way. And it's old black dog when I'm gone, Lord, Lord. It's old black dog when I'm gone. But when I get home with a $10 bill, Daddy, where you been so long?
"Black Dog Blues."
GROSS: Performed by my guest, Roy Book Binder. You know, I think there are a couple of traps that some white Northern performers have fallen into when performing Southern-based music. And I'm thinking, for instance, that some people seem to have almost lost their own voice when they sing. If they're singing Black-based music, they get a completely different voice and try to sound like an older Black man from the South. And I wonder if it was ever hard for you to find your own voice in your singing.
BOOK BINDER: Well, I started out with very little and it's growing.
(LAUGHTER)
BOOK BINDER: I remember when Bob Dylan's first record came out, I said, OK, I'm going to be a singer.
(LAUGHTER)
BOOK BINDER: If he can get away with that, I'm going to get away with this. And back in the early '60s, I moved south when I was 18, the first time I joined the Navy, ran away to sea and moved to Virginia, and I've been headed south ever since. And I've been lucky to have been associated with some great masters of the industry, though some of them knew they were masters and others didn't.
GROSS: Well, you spent some time trying to track down one of the musicians who you liked most, Pink Anderson. And he's someone that probably a lot of our listeners aren't familiar with. Tell us a little bit about him.
BOOK BINDER: Sure.
GROSS: And then I'll ask you to do a song by him.
BOOK BINDER: Pink Anderson was from Spartanburg, South Carolina. He made two records in 1929, and that was that. He disappeared from the recording industry. And he spent his entire career working medicine shows - little carnival deals - throughout the South. He worked with Chief Thundercloud's medicine show up until about 1959. When I met him, he was retired. He had a heart attack and didn't tour at all. And when I met Pink, he was not in great shape, but me and my friend, Paul Geremia, started to visit him. And, well, you know, at one point, we realized the worst thing about his health was he was starving to death down there. And he started to play again, and we took him out on tour once before he died. It was quite a deal.
Pink Anderson's music - he was a carnival performer, and his songs were white, Black and blue, you know? They were mixed up. The song that I'm going to do next, "Travelin' Man," has become my theme song, and it's a song that everybody in the folk field always identified with Pink Anderson, knowing that he probably didn't write it. But it's a song that goes back to minstrel shows, and it was probably a song written by a white man on Broadway. Like, so many times, you get a song from a New York writer on Broadway - what was Tin Pan Alley - and it filters down to the rural community, and then it's found by some folklorist as a - what a find (laughter). It happened throughout the history of country music and blues.
GROSS: Can you do a song for us from Pink Anderson?
BOOK BINDER: Sure can. This is the old "Travelin' Man" song. It came a long way.
(Singing) Well, I just want to tell you about a man named Boon (ph). His home was down in Tennessee. He made his living. He was stealing chickens and anything that he could see. That pop-eyed man, he said he run so fast that his feet never stayed in the road. When the freight train passed, didn't matter how fast, he'd always get on board.
(Singing) He was a traveling man. Certainly was a traveling man. He was the most travelinest (ph) man that ever was in that land. Traveled everywhere, known for many miles around, but he didn't get caught and he never got whupped till the police shot him.
(Singing) You know that the police shot that man with a rifle. The bullet went through his head. People, they were coming from miles around just to see if that boy was dead. They'd telegram down South, where his mama lived, and she was all upset with tears. She walked up and opened up the coffin's lid, but that fool had disappeared.
(Singing) He was a traveling man. Certainly was a traveling man. He was the most travelinest man ever in that land. Traveled everywhere, known for many miles around. Didn't get caught and he never got whupped till the police shot him down.
(Singing) You know, this boy went down to the spring one day to get himself a pail of water. The distance that the rascal had to go was about two miles and a quarter. He got there and got his water, and he started back, stumbled and fell down. He ran back the house, got himself another bucket, caught the water before it touched the ground.
(Singing) He was a traveling man. Certainly was a traveling man. He was the most travelinest man ever in that. Traveled everywhere, known for many miles around. He didn't get caught and he never got whupped till the police shot him down.
(Singing) Now, listen. This boy was out on the Titanic ship the day it was sinking down. He was standing out by the railing, had his head hung down. When that boy jumped overboard, everybody said he was a fool, but about two minutes right after that, well, he was shooting dice in Liverpool.
(Singing) He was a traveling man. Certainly was a traveling man. He was the most travelinest man ever in that land. Traveled everywhere, known for many miles around. But he didn't get caught and he never got whupped until the police shot him down.
Oh, pick it, Roy.
(Singing) Police caught the traveling man at last, then they had him up to hang one day. The jurymen, they all asked that man just what did he have to say. He begged the jurymen if they would bow their heads, bow their heads in prayer. And then he crossed one leg and he winked one eye, and he went up through the air. He was a traveling man.
"Travelin' Man."
GROSS: Did Pink Anderson teach you that one?
BOOK BINDER: Well, he didn't directly teach it to me, but I watched him play it.
GROSS: Right (laughter).
BOOK BINDER: He actually played it in a different key.
GROSS: Was he surprised to see you tracking him down, wanting to learn his songs? If he'd only recorded two songs, he must have been pretty obscure in musical terms.
BOOK BINDER: Oh, he went nuts when I went down there. I was sitting on his front porch. That's a long story. I don't have time to tell you the whole thing. But he came down the street, and I walked up the street towards him. I was playing the guitar on his step. I looked at him. I said, you must be Pink Anderson. He said, how'd you know that? I said, lady in the house said you went to the dry cleaners this morning. This is a dead-end street and you're carrying clothes. He thought I - he said, you been to college? I said, some. He thought I was pretty smart.
I told him I'd been looking for him for 36 hours. He asked me if I owed him money. I said, no, sir. I owe you money. He says, you do? How much? I said, $50. He says, give it here. So I gave him a $50 bill. He looked at it, snapped it twice, put it in his pocket, and then he inquired how did it come to be that I had owed him this small fortune? I told him I made a record of one of his songs. He said, was it a hit? I said, you be the judge.
GROSS: (Laughter).
BOOK BINDER: We became real good friends. He told me before he died - he says, Roy. That's what he always called me. I said, Pink. He says, you know them old songs of mine you can almost play right? I said, yeah. He says, well, I'm giving them to you. They're yours now. You just tell people Pink Anderson, born and getting ready to die in Spartanburg, South Carolina, used to pick a guitar and sing.
BIANCULLI: Roy Book Binder in the FRESH AIR studios in 1987. More after a break. This is FRESH AIR.
This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to the FRESH AIR studio visit by Roy Book Binder, who dropped by to tell stories, play and sing in 1987. He died earlier this month at age 82.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)
GROSS: Let's talk a little bit about Reverend Gary Davis, who you also met. And I think this was before he had become rediscovered. He'd already been rediscovered?
BOOK BINDER: Oh, he was semi-famous when I met him. He already was living in a little house in Jamaica, Queens.
GROSS: What's some of the strumming or finger picking style that you learned from him?
BOOK BINDER: Well, Reverend Davis, he had a number of styles.
(Playing guitar).
He had what - his simple, little style. Like, he did "Candy Man" and he did the "Cocaine Blues," and he did "Delia." And then he'd get a little more complex in his blues, like the "Hesitation" blues. Nickel is a nickel and a dime is a dime - house full of children, ain't one of them mine.
(Playing guitar).
It was one of his other styles. And he had an instrumental style where he imitated the piano and played ragtime pieces, which was really fascinating to the young guitar players that came around. There was a lot of interesting things going on in there. It took a lot of time for some of us to get it, some longer than others.
GROSS: Most blues musicians have many stories to tell about getting ripped off while they were on the road. And I wonder if that was any worse for Gary Davis since he was blind, and it would've been...
BOOK BINDER: Oh.
GROSS: ...That much easier for people to take advantage?
BOOK BINDER: Well, he was taken advantage of a lot when he was singing on the streets for many years in Harlem. He'd lose guitars and what have you. First lesson Reverend Davis taught me when we got to our first rooming house out somewhere near Chicago - and Reverend Davis was getting ready to go to bed. He says, now, Roy, you got to understand. He said, we're in a strange city in a strange house here, and I don't like the house much. I said, well, how come? He said, they're not taking care of this house.
I said, well, how do - you're a blind man, I said, how do you know that? He said, well, the doorknob is loose. I checked it on the way in. He said, when you go to sleep, the first thing you do, he says, is you take out your knife. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife about 12 inches long. I about had a heart attack. He says, you take your knife and you put it under your pillow.
He said, then you get your pocketbook. And he reached down his long johns and pulled out his little leather purse he kept all his money in. He always traveled with some money. He says, you put that inside your pillowcase. He said, somebody comes for your pocketbook, you know where your knife is. You go to sleep with your hand on your knife. And he goes to sleep.
Next morning, about 5:30 in the morning, Reverend Davis is screaming, good God, the mighty lord, have mercy. That was - that could mean anything (laughter). I said, Reverend Davis, what's the matter? I mean, I was in dreamland getting woken up like that. I mean, he was in his 70s, an old blind man, and he was hysterical. I said, what's the matter? He says, they done got my pocketbook. I said, oh, Lord, have mercy.
And we're crawling around the room. And he's screaming, who got his pocketbook, how did somebody get in this room, he knew that door wasn't good. And didn't you hear nobody? My heart was beating a mile a minute. I'm searching all over this room, and finally, I found his pocketbook under the bed. I says, Reverend Davis. He says, Roy? That's what he always called me. I said, I found your pocketbook. All the money is in there. Don't worry.
He said, good God, the mighty, where was my pocketbook? I said, you got to remember something when you go on the road. He says, what's that? I said, you went to sleep real late. And you were tired. And I think you put your pocketbook underneath your pillowcase and your knife inside your pillowcase, and you got it mixed up, and your pocketbook fell behind your pillow onto the floor. Oh, he had a fit.
GROSS: (Laughter).
BOOK BINDER: Give me that pocketbook. Where's my knife? Put all his stuff away (laughter).
GROSS: Can you play us a song that you learned from Reverend Gary Davis?
BOOK BINDER: Yeah.
(Playing guitar).
Let me play a song that I wrote in the style of Reverend Gary Davis.
GROSS: Great.
BOOK BINDER: It was a song he always did called "I'll Be All Right Some Day." And I loved that song. I always wanted to learn how to play it. I finally figured out the basics of it and came out with a little arrangement. And I decided I really couldn't - I didn't feel comfortable singing the words that he'd wrote for it. It was one of these biblical epics. He had some that went on for 15 minutes, you know? And we came out with this. It's called "I'm Going Home Someday."
(Playing guitar).
(Singing) If my road is rocky and my journey's rough, if I stumble and I fall, well, I'll pick myself up, keep marching forward. And I'll drive these blues away. I've been a gambling man - I've been a cheat. I've often lost my way. I've seen the darkness, want to see the light, trying to start a brand-new day. Yes, I'm going home. I'm going home. I'm going home someday. Temptation cast aside, won't take no devil ride. I'm going home someday.
Wind is blowing hard, rain is coming down and I can't keep myself warm. But I keep searching for better days and a sheltered port from the storm. I'm going home. I'm going home. I'm going home someday. Temptations cast aside, won't take no devil ride. I'm going home someday. Going to see my mother, going to see my father, going to see my baby brother, too. And when I get there, I won't have to worry. I'll know just what to do. I'm going home. I'm going home. I'm going home, I say. Temptation cast aside, won't take no devil ride. I'm going home someday.
(Playing guitar).
GROSS: Great song.
BOOK BINDER: Thank you.
BIANCULLI: Roy Book Binder visiting the FRESH AIR studios in 1987. He died March 3 at age 82. Coming up, Justin Chang reviews the new Ryan Gosling film, "Project Hail Mary." This is FRESH AIR. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.
