Raisin' Cain: The Wild and Raucous Story of Johnny Winter (Kindle Edition) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Praise

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Foreword

  PREFACE

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  PART I

  Chapter 1 - ALBINO IN A REDNECK TOWN

  Chapter 2 - MUSICAL FROM BIRTH

  Chapter 3 - JOHNNY B. GOODE

  Chapter 4 - FROM THE WINDY CITY TO THE DEEP SOUTH

  Chapter 5 - THE LEGEND BEGINS

  Chapter 6 - THE HIGH PRICE OF CELEBRITY

  Chapter 7 - BROKE-DOWN ENGINE

  PART II

  Chapter 8 - BACK WITH A VENGEANCE

  Chapter 9 - A DREAM COME TRUE

  Chapter 10 - ONE STEP FORWARD (TWO STEPS BACK)

  Chapter 11 - THE ILLUSTRATED MAN AND THE ALLIGATOR

  Chapter 12 - NOT BAD FOR A WHITE BOY

  PART III

  Chapter 13 - BAD LUCK AND TROUBLE

  Chapter 14 - FREE AT LAST

  Chapter 15 - FULL CIRCLE

  DISCOGRAPHY

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  INDEX

  Praise for Raisin’ Cain

  “From Texas progressive to deep blues revivalist, from rock star highs to heroin lows, this story is a raucous good time, full of drama, and ultimately, an exciting personal triumph.”

  —Robert Gordon, author of Can’t Be Satisfied: The Life and Times of Muddy Waters

  “‘The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom,’ wrote William Blake. This book shows just how rocky that road can be, and how much a great blues artist has to work and endure to create the music. It’ll remind you what a giant force Johnny Winter has been in blues and rock, both with his own music and for his work with Muddy Waters and others. It’s all here—the sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll, heartbreaks, triumphs, and famous friends. What a wild, improbable, twisting tale!”

  —Mark Hoffman, author of Moanin’ at Midnight: The Life and Times of Howlin’ Wolf

  “Incredibly detailed. . . . For those of us who are Johnny Winter fans, this is more information than anyone would ever need. Raises the bar when someone says they are writing an authorized biography.”

  —Bill Wax, Program Director and host of B. B. King’s Bluesville on Sirius/XM Satellite Radio

  “Blues fans talk about ‘real deal’ blues. They also want a ‘real deal’ biography, too, with research and facts and not just a string of liner notes and record reviews. Raisin’ Cain is the ‘real deal.’ The detail and completeness make this history, not just a cover version for the tourists. The next time someone asks Edgar Winter, ‘Hey, where’s your brother?’ he can tell them to pick up a copy.”

  —Jay Sieleman, Executive Director The Blues Foundation, Memphis, Tennessee

  Copyright © 2010 by Mary Lou Sullivan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without written permission, except by a newspaper or magazine reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review.

  Published in 2010 by Backbeat Books

  An Imprint of Hal Leonard Corporation

  7777 West Bluemound Road

  Milwaukee, WI 53213

  Trade Book Division Editorial Offices

  19 West 21st Street, New York, NY 10010

  Lyrics from “Still Alive and Well” by Rick Derringer and “Sweet Papa John” by Johnny Winter used by permission.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Book design by UB Communications

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-0-87930-973-2

  www.backbeatbooks.com

  To Lloyd J. Jassin, whose wisdom, perseverance, and heart made my dream come true

  I am truly blessed to have you as my agent, attorney, and friend

  FOREWORD

  I love this book. It has everything. All the things that I wanted people to know, from how hard it was growing up in Texas being an albino, my career, the early days, my problems with drugs ... it’s excellent and very realistic—it’s exactly what happened.

  It’s like reliving my life again. Reading things people said that I had forgotten. There were a few things that I didn’t remember that really surprised me. I had forgotten about Salvador Dali wanting me to stick a microphone up my ass ... that was ridiculous.

  Reading this book was emotional—the good stuff was great and the bad stuff was really horrible. Some of the memories were painful, but I’m glad they’re in the book. To try to whitewash my life would have been horrible, that wouldn’t have been worth reading. I’ve always been very honest. You don’t get the right picture if you’re not honest.

  Mary Lou did a fantastic job—it couldn’t have been better. I don’t think anybody else could have done such a good job or been as honest. I loved talking to her on all those Saturday nights. I was really open because I wanted my story to be told. She did an excellent job on research and really spent a lot of time on this book. It is perfect—there isn’t anything left out.

  I’m very glad I stayed true to the blues—I wouldn’t have been nearly as happy if I stayed a rock star. It was just too much pressure. The life of a bluesman is a little easier than the life of a rock star. As a bluesman, I love what I’m doing; I’m not forcing anything. People seem to really love my music, and that feels good.

  The blues is such an emotional music—it has so much feeling. There never was a point where I didn’t want to play blues. You can’t describe the blues; you just have to feel it. Some people say it’s boring, but it sure isn’t to me. I try to do it different every time I play.

  Blues goes in and out of style, but it’ll always be around because it’s just too good to go away. There will always be people that love the blues and play the blues. Stations like Bluesville on XM radio really help the blues by exposing it to new people. I’ve influenced a lot of people too. People are always telling me if it wasn’t for me they wouldn’t be into the blues, and that makes me feel real good.

  Most of today’s blues isn’t as good as it was back during Muddy’s time. People used to live such hard lives. They grew up picking cotton, and people don’t do that anymore. The passing of Muddy, John Lee Hooker, Gatemouth, and so many elder bluesmen certainly hurts because there are not as many good people coming up. There are still a few good people around though—Magic Slim, Derek Trucks, Little Ed, Eric Sardinas....

  I’m real glad to still be playing after all these years. I want to keep playing as long as I possibly can. I’ve been playing all over the U.S. and Europe and just came back from playing in Europe for three weeks. Having so many loyal fans is great. Now they bring their kids to the shows, and their kids like me. Playing live shows, you feed off all the energy from the people. The people make a lot of difference.

  I really hope everybody enjoys this book as much as I did. I read it as soon as I got it and couldn’t wait to see what happened next. Even though I knew, it was still fun to read. I’ve led a very interesting life. You can’t make this stuff up.

  Johnny Winter

  November 29, 2008

  Fairfield County, Connecticut

  PREFACE

  Raisin’ Cain is a book that Teddy Slatus, Johnny Winter’s manager and business associate for thirty-five years, didn’t want published, and a book I was determined to write. It has been a tumultuous twenty-five-year journey.

  My quest to write Johnny’s life story began in 1984, when I interviewed him for the Hartford Advocate. Impressed by his honesty,
affinity for storytelling, philosophical approach to life, and tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, I felt an immediate kinship and wanted to know more. I set up a second interview for a Johnny Winter special on my WCCC radio show, and approached Slatus Management about writing his biography.

  Although Slatus turned down my idea several times during the 1980s, I never abandoned my quest. During the ’90s, Slatus consistently rejected requests for interviews, and eventually shut Johnny off from all media contact. But I was still determined to tell Johnny’s story with his input during his lifetime, rather than leave it to biographers forced to rely on the often self-serving memories of peripheral players after he was gone.

  Ironically, it was on the day before 9/11/2001 that Slatus and I entered into a handshake agreement to make me Johnny’s biographer. It took another fifteen months before Slatus made it official. He said he had talked to other writers but chose me because “You have heart and you really care about Johnny.”

  In January 2003, I began interviewing Johnny in his home. By then his lifestyle had affected his memory, so I did an enormous amount of research prior to each meeting, compiling 400—450 questions each week to help jog his recollections. After Johnny and I had shared many a Saturday night strolling down memory lane, Slatus called in his attorney, stopped the project, and forbade Johnny from having any further contact with me. He had become threatened by my close friendship with Johnny, and frantic about what he may have told me.

  Crushed that I could no longer see my new friend, but still determined to tell his tale, I embarked on a six-year journey to fill in the blanks and write a definitive biography. I interviewed Paul Oscher in a coffee shop in Memphis; and traveled to the Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale, Mississippi, where a blown-up photo of Johnny, Muddy Waters, and Eric Clapton adorns the wall of the remains of Waters’s Stovall Farms cabin. I conducted an in-depth interview with Alligator Records’ president and founder Bruce Iglauer outside of Robinsonville, Mississippi, where Robert Johnson, another one of Johnny’s influences, spent his childhood. I traveled with Howlin’ Wolf biographer Mark Hoffman to Leland, Mississippi, to see the life-size mural honoring Johnny, Edgar, and other blues musicians, and to visit the birthplace of Johnny’s father and grandfather, who had lived and worked there as cotton brokers.

  I made several trips to Austin, Texas, where Uncle John Turner and Tommy Shannon regaled me with tales of their early struggles, adventures on LSD, rock festivals, and historic recording sessions. Austin artist Jim Franklin shared memories of his lifelong friendship with Johnny, Johnny’s gigs with Muddy Waters and Freddie King, and some bizarre stories about Salvador Dali.

  I interviewed Mark Epstein at a gig he played with Joe Bonamassa, and waited out a hurricane to talk to producer Terry Manning at Compass Point Studios in the Bahamas. I hooked up with Billy Branch and Jerry Portnoy at the North Atlantic Blues Festival in Rockland, Maine. I met Steve Paul backstage at B. B. King’s in New York City, thanks to Johnny’s new manager Paul Nelson, who brought the project and my friendship with Johnny back on track.

  I gleaned a wealth of information about Johnny and had a ball speaking with people from throughout the United States and beyond: Edgar Winter in Los Angeles; Edwina Winter in Beaumont, Texas; Muddy’s manager Scott Cameron, Dick Shurman, and Dennis Drugan in Chicago; Bobby Caldwell and Floyd Radford in Florida; Bob Margolin in North Carolina; Doug Brockie in New Jersey; Bobby T. in Connecticut; and Mike and Richard Vernon in Spain and the United Kingdom.

  Yet my fondest memory is the night Johnny answered the door wearing the Homer Simpson slippers I had given him the week before. After our interview, he walked over to his CD player, his shirt open to display his trademark tattoos, wearing dark blue sweatpants and those bright yellow slippers with bulging white eyes. I had asked him to play me his fiery rendition of B. B. King’s “It’s My Own Fault” on the Mike Bloomfield/Al Kooper Fillmore East: The Lost Concert Tapes 12/13/68 CD that had just been released. As I sat beside him on the couch, listening to that historic performance by this amazing guitarist with a wonderful heart, my only thought was, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  December 2009

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Johnny Winter, who trusted me with his legacy and shared some amazing stories (and a lot of laughs) during our Saturday nights together.

  To Susan Winter, a sweet and gracious lady, who shared her memories and Johnny’s personal archives.

  Warm thanks to the musicians, artists, producers, and music industry people who generously shared their time and memories: Andy Aledort, Bill Bentley, Billy Branch, Doug Brockie, Bobby Caldwell, Scott Cameron, Rick Derringer, Rick Dobbis, Dennis Drugan, Mark Epstein, Mark Erlewine, Dennis Ferrante, Jim Franklin, Josh Alan Friedman, Jeff Ganz, Steve Hecht, Styve Homnick, Bruce Iglauer, John Jackson, Wayne June, Vito Liuzzi, Jimmy Jo Longoria, Terry Manning, Bob Margolin, Val Minett, James Montgomery, Paul Nelson, Paul Oscher, Steve Paul, Jerry Portnoy, Floyd Radford, Pat Rush, Tommy Shannon, Dick Shurman, Teddy Slatus (who trusted me enough to start the ball rolling), Scott Spray, Bobby T. (Torello), Uncle John Turner, Mike Vernon, Richard Vernon, Edgar Winter, Edwina Winter, and John Wooler.

  To the writers, researchers, and photographers who generously shared their work: Steve Banks, Thomas Brown, Charles Fitzsimmons, Bob Gruen, Tom Guerra, Charles Harbutt, Dennis Hickey, Nels Jacobson, John Nova Lomax, Sean McDevitt, Dan Muise, Paul Natkin, Jim Sherman, Lois Siegel, Jim Summaria, Burton Wilson, and Susan Winter. Special thanks to Jim Geuther from Switzerland, who developed and maintains “The Johnny Winter Story,” the ultimate fan website with 20,000 pages and several thousand photographs.

  For his vision, passion, and dedication to the integrity of the project: Mike Edison, my editor at Backbeat.

  For literary inspiration, advice, and expertise: Scott Bradfield, Scott Dirks, Robert Gordon, Tom Guerra, John Gustavson, Mark Hoffman, Jordan Pecile, Tom Smith, and Patrick Sullivan.

  For transcribing and proofreading: Jessie Bradley, Chris Dimock, Wendy Merchant, Kelly Racine, Lisa Rau, and special thanks to Bev Canfield, who spent endless hours transcribing dozens of interviews.

  For legal assistance and friendship above and beyond the call of duty: Vinny Cervoni. To the old friends and new friends who helped me on my journey: Dom Forcella, Andy (Drew Blood) Grzybowski, Steve Knauf, Tim Lee, Ron MacDonald, Neal Olderman, Jack Ortman, Steven Pearl, T. Bone Piazza, Walter Potter, Jim Quist, Les Strong, Josh Sullivan, Kerry Tilton, and members of the Johnny Winter Guitar Slinger Group.

  To those warm and wonderful Texans who made me feel at home: Kumi Smedley, Morgan Turner, Jeanne Whittington, Leaa Mechling, Leland Parks, and Alan Haynes, whose amazing guitar virtuosity always makes a trip to Austin memorable.

  And finally, a very special thanks to Johnny Georgiades, who offered moral support and encouragement, and believed in me and this book every step of the way.

  INTRODUCTION

  MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, JUNE 1973

  The smell of marijuana permeated Madison Square Garden. The 19,000-seat arena was sold out—filled with fans eagerly awaiting Johnny Winter’s comeback concert after a nine-month hiatus in River Oaks Hospital in New Orleans. Chants of “John-ny, John-ny, John-ny” filled the smoky auditorium. The surreal glow of thousands of matches raised the level of excitement in the charged atmosphere. The house lights dimmed and the crowd jumped to its feet, wildly applauding the return of their guitar hero, who strutted onstage wearing a black velvet cape and brandishing a white Firebird guitar. Unlike his lover Janis Joplin and his friend Jimi Hendrix, Johnny Winter had triumphed over the excesses of a drug-filled lifestyle and lived to tell the tale.

  A silver blizzard of tiny metallic photos floated from the rafters as Johnny tore into a blazing version of “Rock Me Baby,” a fiery fusion of the rock that made him famous and the blues he loved. His long agile fingers raced across his guitar strings, cranking out the scorching guitar riffs that had become synonymous with his name. “Rock ‘n’ roll!” he yel
led in a guttural voice, a combination rasp and holler emanating from his very soul, working the crowd into a fever pitch.

  He teased the audience with an earthy pelvic thrust as he flung his cape aside to reveal an outfit as outrageous as his antics. New York fashion designer Bill Witten had created his costume—a white spandex jumpsuit with silver-studded bellbottoms and suspenders, a studded collar, and an amethyst medallion reflecting the spotlight shining on his bare chest. The overhead spots created a halo on the translucent white hair flowing over his shoulders and bounced off the studded armbands adorned with silver streamers that draped down toward the floor.

  Johnny’s band—bassist Randy Jo Hobbs and drummer Richard Hughes—were joined by Jimmy Gillan, a second drummer, whose hard-pounding rhythm added to the intensity of the powerful trio. Susan Warford, a pretty blonde in a blue jumpsuit slit to her navel, pounded on a tambourine and danced to the music with wild abandon.

  Wielding his power on a changing array of Firebird guitars, he whipped the audience into a frenzy, playing behind his back, over his head, and perched on his knees at the edge of the stage. He was a combination of Texas bluesman—who captivated the audience with his masterful slide, scorching guitar, and gritty vocals—and the quintessential rock star, who pounced across the stage in a wild celebration of raw sexuality and unbridled rock ‘n’ roll.