Mike Rowe
Of all the elusive Detroit bluesmen known only by a name on a record label, one of the most fascinating and exciting was LC Green, an almost total biographical blank.1 And even his name was misspelled on seven issued sides. Researchers in Detroit had repeatedly asked about him and tried to locate him, but after twenty years of searching only two concrete facts emerged. That he was from Minter City, Mississippi, was first reported by David Evans in an interview with Woodrow Adams while Bobo Jenkins and other Detroit bluesmen thought LC was living in Pontiac, Michigan. All this was known in the ’60s and remarkably was all true, but Pontiac, a self-contained community with only amateur blues activity, stubbornly refused to give up its secrets. Not that LC was completely lost, for he was in contact with Walter Mitchell, and the two of them were known to Tim Healy, who had met LC and heard him play guitar on a few occasions. But by the time we got to Walter Mitchell, LC had been dead seven months, with the only new information provided, sadly, by his funeral program. And, again, even that was wrong!
But we were able to piece together a little of LC’s story through the kindness of his sister Rebecca: “Yeah, I’m the last of the whole cotton-pickin’ bunch!” laughs Rebecca down the phone. “LC was a great blues artist,” I try, conversationally. “Yeah, but he never made no records,” says Becky. But perhaps we could meet? “Well, what is it you want to know?” Everything! “Well, when he died someone broke in there, stole his guitar and everything. I only got one picture left on the side.”
Many phone calls later we arrange to meet at a restaurant in Pontiac, and over several cups of coffee Becky tells me what little she knows. LC—just LC, no Christian names—was born on October 22 (correcting the funeral program), 1921, in Minter City, Mississippi. Their father was Elisha Green and mother, Leler. The parents separated in 1925 and Becky and LC were raised by their father, who remarried in 1929. LC learned to play a toy guitar when he was five years old, but there were no local musicians that Becky remembered to encourage him or form LC’s style. I mentioned that Woodrow Adams had first recalled LC, and Becky said so he should have done, as they all grew up together! LC also played harmonica on a rack, which may give a clue to some of the elusive harp accompaniments to his songs, although with Sam Kelly and Walter Mitchell we seem to be well supplied with probables. Incidentally, Becky knew nothing of Walter Mitchell’s claim to be a cousin.
That LC was a guitarist was remarkable, considering he had two fingers on each hand joined together. Becky laughs when she tells how he would get mad when she tried to tease him, unkindly threatening to cut the skin between. Before he moved to Pontiac, LC was living with a girl in Memphis, where he played at Riley’s Grill, and he never lost his connection with the city, often visiting from Pontiac. On these trips he always took his guitar with him. Indeed, he always took it everywhere he went—so there may still be further reminiscences to be gleaned from Memphis about LC’s life. Becky moved to Pontiac in 1937 and LC joined her in the city some time later. She was surprised to learn that he had, in fact, made records, as she only ever knew him to play at house parties or occasionally at the Wayside Inn, and then the Dew Drop Inn on Western Street, Pontiac, and he always played just by himself.
LC worked by day at construction work and played his guitar evenings around at friends’ houses. He never married and roomed at various addresses—in 1951 he was living on Lake Street—which accounts for his invisibility to researchers. He used to get together with friends Matilda and Leonard on Pike Street, and Leonard played harp and guitar, too. There was one July 4 when he and Leonard played together in the park as part of the festivities. These public outings were rare, but once Becky, a girl named Wardelle, and LC were at the Mellow Lane Club and Becky sang “Be My Chauffeur.” But this was unusual, as LC’s rowdy lifestyle and hard drinking (his favorite drink was “White Label”) were not to Becky’s taste. When the end came, it was no surprise to Becky—“The doctor told him to quit drinking, but he was hardheaded.” He died on August 24, 1985.
1. This interview is previously unpublished.