INTRODUCTION

Bill Greensmith

Bexhill-on-Sea is a sleepy seaside town in East Sussex on the south coast of England, seemingly populated by old ladies and retired servicemen. I first visited Bexhill as a young boy, with my parents; we intended to spend a week’s vacation there. No sunshine and beach for us—it rained endlessly. Bored, damp, and miserable, we soon returned to London. At some later date I discovered that the comedian Spike Milligan was stationed at Bexhill for a period during World War II. He described the town as “an above-ground cemetery,” and his wartime experiences there surely account for it being immortalized in some of his scripts for the BBC radio program The Goon Show. Such was my skewed perception of Bexhill and the staid and gloomy reputation it enjoyed, deserved or not, during the 1950s.

It was unquestionably the most unlikely of locations for the birthplace of Blues Unlimited, the world’s first publication devoted solely to the blues. Picking up the magazine for the first time in the 1960s, I can still recall my incredulity upon seeing its address.

Bexhill was home to both Simon Napier and Mike Leadbitter, Blues Unlimited’s founding editors. Simon and Mike’s friendship began at Bexhill Grammar School in 1955 through a shared interest in rock ’n’ roll—and, had they but known it, rhythm and blues, as many artists during this period, such as Joe Turner, Fats Domino, and Chuck Willis, were being marketed and sold as rock ’n’ roll. The difference soon became apparent to the pair as they explored labels like London American and Vogue, two of the few domestic outlets for R&B and rock ’n’ roll in England at the time. An all-consuming and passionate interest in the blues, in all of its many and varied forms, quickly followed—and led them in turn to zydeco and Cajun music, at a time when few of us had ever heard those terms.

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Simon Napier and Mike Leadbitter. 38a Sackville Road, Bexhill. (Photo Diana Napier)

Weekly record sessions were held at Simon’s parents’ house. John Broven, a friend and classmate of Mike’s, soon joined the pair and was introduced to the records of Jimmy Reed, B. B. King, Elmore James, and Lonesome Sundown, among others. Label listings were pored over, and the trade publications Billboard and Cashbox were scoured for news and reviews of likely records. Mike and John began writing to many of the companies that regularly advertised in these magazines. Eddie Shuler of Goldband Records in Lake Charles, Louisiana, was one of the first to respond, sending a box of his releases, which included records by Hop Wilson and Juke Boy Bonner. Mike and John had similar success with Paul Glass of both USA and Age Records in Chicago, receiving records by J. B. Lenoir, Homesick James, and Junior Wells. Contact was also established with like-minded enthusiasts, thus setting up a free exchange of information and ideas.

The annual American Folk Blues Festival (AFBF) show, which began in 1962, was a seminal event, exposing many English and European listeners to the blues for the first time. Before that, tours of Britain by blues artists had been few: Lonnie Johnson, Big Bill Broonzy, Josh White, Sonny Terry, and Brownie McGhee were among the earliest. In 1958 bandleader Chris Barber, a longtime selfless supporter of the blues, famously promoted a tour by Muddy Waters and Otis Spann, a monumental event for English blues aficionados. Roosevelt Sykes, Speckled Red, Little Brother Montgomery, Champion Jack Dupree, Memphis Slim, and James Cotton were also early visitors. Some later AFBF shows did garner criticism; there was perceived to be a lack of imagination in the booking of artists. But in reality they were remarkable events, presenting an extraordinary collection of artists on one stage: Sonny Boy Williamson, Muddy Waters, Big Joe Williams, Lonnie Johnson, and others in 1963; Magic Sam, Earl Hooker, Clifton Chenier, Juke Boy Bonner, and others in 1969. Viewing from today’s perspective, who would argue with these choices?

In 1963 much of the information that we now take for granted was still to be documented, and a standard blues discography did not yet exist. That blues research was still in its infancy is an understatement, given the meager blues literature described by Tony Russell in his foreword. A magazine devoted exclusively to the subject seemed like a good idea. In April 1963, six months after the first AFBF toured Europe, the first issue of Blues Unlimited was published. Its base of operation was the attic of Simon’s parents’ antique shop at 38A Sackville Road. Subtitled The Journal of the Blues Appreciation Society (TBAS), Blues Unlimited was a direct outgrowth of that organization. Formed in May 1962, TBAS was based on a similar group created earlier by Max Vreede in Holland; its objective was to collect and disseminate discographical and biographical information, publish sales lists, and function as a lending library.

Issue number 1 contained items by John Broven on Little Junior Parker and Jay Miller (which presaged his book Record Makers and Breakers forty-six years later). Paul Oliver contributed an article on Bull City Red; Cedric Hayes produced a discography of the Staple Singers, and Simon an overview of Crown Records, in which he singled out some of the label’s more worthwhile issues. A news item reported the death of Mercy Dee Walton, and Mike Leadbitter pleaded for help in compiling label lists of Sun, Bullet, and Hollywood, among others. John and Mike jointly reviewed the current crop of U.S. singles—Hop Wilson on Goldband, Clarence Garlow on Folkstar, new Chess 45s by Muddy Waters and Buddy Guy—and U.K. releases on the recently formed Pye R&B label, including albums by Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley and 45s by Sonny Boy Williamson, Howlin’ Wolf, and English harmonica player Cyril Davies. However, “Mr. Davies does not warrant discussion being one of these things we’re getting hurled at us from Britain of late.” This caustic comment from Simon effectively established the Blues Unlimited editorial policy: few blues revivalists were to be included in its pages. An impressive beginning and all for the bargain price of one shilling and sixpence (7½p, or 18 cents).

From the outset it was Simon who undertook the responsibility of physically producing the magazine, typing the pages on stencils and printing them on a Roneotype machine. The pages were then collated and stapled jointly by Simon, Mike, and John. This truly was a hands-on operation. Issue 1 exceeded all expectation: the entire run of 180 copies quickly sold out. Encouraged by its success, Simon cautiously increased the print run to 210 for issue 2, published in June 1963. He continued to increase the print run in increments of 10 and 20 until issue 6 (November 1963), when it jumped to 300. By issue 10 (March 1964), it had further increased to 400, and by issue 13 (July 1964), to 1,000.

Researchers, discographers, and enthusiasts from Europe and the United States soon began to freely contribute articles, interviews, reviews, and information. A discography of B. B. King, compiled by Mike and John with contributions from Wolfie Baum and Marcel Chauvard, appeared in issue 2. “Cajun Corner” made its debut in this issue, followed two issues later by Paul Oliver’s “Creoles, Cajuns and Confusion,” which added historical context and clarified the terminology. A feature on Howlin’ Wolf with an accompanying discography by John Broven, Chauvard, and Kurt Mohr was the highlight of issue 3, along with the beginning of Cedric Hayes’s listing of “Post-War Gospel Records.”

The early BUs managed to convey a wonderful sense of adventure; the enthusiasm was palpable. The early ’60s saw the rediscovery of several artists who had recorded in the ’20s and ’30s, and Blues Unlimited was among the first to report the findings. Issue 4 carried a story by Dick Spottswood about the rediscovery of Mississippi John Hurt and his recording for the first time in thirty-five years. This was soon followed by the rediscovery of Bukka White, reported in issue 7 by John Fahey and Ed Denson. And in issue 15 Bernard Klatzko reported on the search for and rediscovery of Son House, also including a brief interview.

The first major feature on Elmore James appeared in issue 5, following a report of his early death, by Neil Patterson, in the previous issue. With BU 5 the subhead The Journal of the Blues Appreciation Society was dropped and Mike Leadbitter’s name was added as “R&B Editor.” With each issue Blues Unlimited continued to break new ground, revealing new artists or ones who had been long neglected, while lending support to record companies and to serious projects like Robert Dixon and John Godrich’s discography, Blues & Gospel Records, 1902–1943, which was published in 1964.

From today’s vantage point it is sometimes easy to forget the time and context in which BU began operating. Few blues artists had ever been the subject of an article or formal interview before appearing in BU. Chess, Vee-Jay, Duke/Peacock, and Excello were active, vital record companies. New 45s by Muddy, Wolf, Sonny Boy, and Jimmy Reed were regularly reviewed. The young Buddy Guy was considered to be in the vanguard of modern blues. Neil Patterson and the indefatigable Pete Welding contributed numerous artist interviews to the early editions of BU. Welding, along with Bob Koester and Don Kent, also sent regular tantalizing reports of activities in Chicago—reports that were arguably responsible for inspiring many Europeans to visit that city. Eddie Taylor, Johnny Young, and Big Boy Spires were just a few whose stories appeared in early issues of BU. Viewed with hindsight, several of these interviews are less detailed than they would be nowadays. But in the early ’60s they were groundbreaking, introducing us to a wide variety of artists, most of whom were unknown to blues fans outside their hometowns.

An editorial in issue 12 announced a price increase: from issue 13 the cover price would rise to a whopping two shillings (10p, or 25 cents). With issue 13 also came the first use of photographs, although they were initially confined to the cover. The magazine now had a smaller typeface and was professionally printed, allowing Simon to retire the Roneo machine. Issue 12 saw the start of Collectors Classics, a series of monographs published by BU, mostly featuring a single artist and discography. CC number 1 was devoted to Muddy Waters. This was soon followed by Collectors Classics featuring Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, Howlin’ Wolf, and others. The series ran through the late ’60s, eventually being replaced by BU Booklets. This series of publications covered a variety of subjects: Beale Street USA, Crowley, Louisiana Blues, From the Bayou: The Story of Goldband Records, and Mike Leadbitter’s Delta Country Blues, which was to form the basis of a greatly expanded Delta book, a project that unfortunately has remained unpublished.

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Neil Patterson, Simon Napier, John Broven, unknown, Graham Ackers, Rose and Mike Leadbitter, Anna and Dave Williams, 1964.

Another new look for the magazine began with issue 24, when it appeared in A5 size (roughly 6 x 8 inches), a format that lasted until issue 56, when it switched back to A4 (8½ x 11 inches). More photographs were now being used, and the price further increased to four shillings (20p, or 48 cents).

Mike Leadbitter’s passion for all things discographical quickly manifested itself in a regular column. “Post-War Discographical Comment” debuted in issue 21, with Mike pondering inaccuracies in the existing Willie Nix discography and issuing a further plea for help in compiling individual artist discographies and label listings. His research, along with that of his co-author Neil Slaven, came to fruition in 1968 with the publication of the discography Blues Records, 1943–1966. The primary focus was on the more down-home artists, and some regrettable criticism was leveled at Mike, mainly for the book’s typos and for the omission of artists who some thought should have been included. But such comments could not obscure its importance. This was a monumental achievement; just about all the important artists were included, and the book became the foundation of all later work. Further discographical musings were continued in “Rare Post-War Records,” a column that first appeared in BU issue 57. In attempting to unearth the rarest records of that era, Mike correctly surmised that many postwar items were far scarcer than prewar discs, which often had been produced in much greater quantities.

Ample space was also found in BU for blues news and reviews of the AFBF concerts and club dates by Little Walter, Buddy Guy, Jimmy Reed, John Lee Hooker, and other early ’60s visitors to England. These occasions provided the BU team with an opportunity to conduct short interviews with the artists. For the first couple of years, the magazine would also publish tempting auction lists of records. An early and distressing news item was a plea for help for the great boogie pianist Pete Johnson, who was living alone in Buffalo, New York, in poor health and existing on welfare, all but forgotten. The plights of others were routinely reported, such as Roosevelt Holt’s troubles with the judicial system in Mississippi for the crime of selling his 45rpm record without a license, and, following his rediscovery in Los Angeles by Darryl Stolper, the tragic murder of Kid Thomas.

But if one artist was truly championed by BU it was Juke Boy Bonner. The first item on Juke Boy appeared in issue 8, when Mike Leadbitter, with Goldband Records’ Eddie Shuler, wrote an article titled “The One Man Trio.” Throughout the years, Juke Boy was the subject of numerous features and interviews, but none more amazing than the “Help to Save Juke Boy” campaign, which began in issue 44 after Mike’s visit to Juke Boy’s hometown of Houston, Texas. It had been several years since Juke Boy had recorded, and, with no company seeming to be interested, BU made a plea to its readers for each of them to send one dollar toward a fund that would enable him to afford studio time. Each contributor would receive a copy of the record. This well-intentioned ploy resulted in the single “Runnin’ Shoes”/“Yakin’ in My Plans” (Blues Unlimited #101).

The project prompted an interest in Juke Boy, and there soon followed a resurgence of his career: Chris Strachwitz recorded him for Arhoolie Records, and in 1969 he toured Europe with the AFBF. He soon afterward returned to England for an extensive solo tour under the auspices of the National Blues Federation, and at a session in London for Liberty recorded the album Things Ain’t Right, including “B.U. Blues,” in which he recalled his visit to Bexhill. It was a justifiably proud moment for Simon and Mike. However, Juke Boy’s newfound European audience did not guarantee him continuing success at home, where his often introspective and topical blues no longer appealed to a fickle local audience, and music jobs became fewer. The title of his song “Struggle Here in Houston” would be sadly prophetic.

A vital part of BU’s content was the record reviews. Informative, insightful, and occasionally humorous, they provided an essential service and guide for the magazine’s readers, especially those without access to a specialized record store like Dobell’s in London’s Charing Cross Road or the wonderfully chaotic Dave Carey’s Swing Shop in Streatham in south London. BU was fortunate in that its revenue was generated by subscriptions and by wholesale sales to specialized outlets and did not depend upon advertising. Thus reviews were not compromised by a sense of loyalty to the advertisers. Reviewers were given a free rein.

Both Simon and Mike reviewed many records. Simon, occasionally using the pseudonym William Bentley, mainly reviewed the prewar items, while Mike, who was never afraid to speak his mind and invite controversy, stayed with the postwar releases. Mike’s passion, which led to occasional vicious outbursts of criticism, quickly earned him the moniker “Mike Backbiter.” His blunt and acerbic comments were occasionally upsetting to readers, especially when directed at their favorite artists. In his review of Liberty’s Rural Blues/Urban Blues series, Mike wrote: “T-Bone Walker fascinates me. I’m always waiting for him to make a mistake and he never does. He is, or was, far too polished for my taste. A brilliant guitarist, but his dexterity is soulless and calculated, leaving me cold.” Joe Turner and Roosevelt Sykes didn’t fare much better—“their voices grate on my nerves”—a statement few would agree with. The Prestige albums by Billy Boy Arnold and Homesick James both came in for a Leadbitter bashing, and Pete Welding, perhaps justifiably, came to Billy Boy’s defense in the following issue.

But Mike was not alone. Rick Milne in issue 41 wrote, “Muddy has a new album out featuring some of the worst intrusions of bursting brass I have ever heard. It’s called Muddy and Brass or something equally vomit inducing.” Tony Russell and Mike Rowe had contributed reviews to the magazine from early on, always knowledgeable and well-reasoned and sometimes revealing wry or irreverent humor. Tony, reviewing the Herwin album Patton, Sims & Bertha Lee, stated, “A quarter of the LP is by [Charley] Patton’s fiddler Henry Sims, with the eminence playing backup guitar. Now if Patton’s voice sounds like the result of a long night on cheap cigars, Sims’ fiddle shows us what happened to the box they came in.” Mike Rowe, reviewing Rosetta Records’ Boogie Blues-Women Sing & Play Boogie Woogie, wrote: “The discovery of the Rosetta Stone provided an interpretation of Egyptian hieroglyphics, but modern-day blues scholars will not find the discovery of Rosetta Records so helpful, for the founding mother, Rosetta Reitz, seems to reverse the process and turn known fact into musical hieroglyphics. Admittedly, giving me a feminist album to review is rather like putting Herod in charge of an orphanage, but this sort of nonsense would try any reviewer’s patience.”

Although more measured and diplomatic than Mike Leadbitter, Simon could be equally forthright and unafraid of taking someone to task. Son House’s 1966 Columbia album, recorded following his rediscovery, was much anticipated by the blues community. Simon was particularly vexed by Dick Waterman’s sleeve notes, which referred to the Beatles and Rolling Stones while omitting any mention of those who were actually responsible for the rediscovery. In an editorial in issue 30, he characterized the notes as “uninformative,” “irresourceful,” and “objectionable.”

It is interesting to see how our perception of certain artists has changed with the passage of time. Memphis Slim is a perfect case in point. Few artists have recorded more prolifically, and in the early BUs he occasionally came in for harsh, and sometimes unjust, criticism. In issue 65 he was the subject of reviews by both John Broven and Simon. John began his review, “Memphis Slim is nobody’s favourite,” and Simon, “It must be the first L.P. made by Memphis Slim I ever said a good word for.” Would Slim still be subject to the same critical gaze today, and reviewers continue to express those sentiments, given some of the releases that currently masquerade as blues? Or was it that we were just spoiled for choice?

The ’60s were exciting times and each new release was keenly anticipated. New reissue labels began to proliferate, such as Mike Vernon’s Blue Horizon, Mike Rowe’s P.W.B., Trevor Huyton’s Highway 51, and Robin Gosden and Bruce Bastin’s Flyright, all of them making rare and obscure material available to collectors. Chris Strachwitz’s labels Blues Classics and Arhoolie were especially admired by Simon, who regularly reviewed their releases, and when he could give one of them only an indifferent review it was obviously troubling to him. Jay Miller’s productions for Excello were also firm favorites with the BU team, and features on the label and its artists—Lightnin’ Slim, Lazy Lester, Lonesome Sundown, and so forth—appeared in the magazine from its earliest days. Blues Unlimited undoubtedly helped foster interest in Jay Miller and Excello Records’ product, which resulted, from the early ’60s onward, in numerous reissue projects—none more exhaustive than the series produced by Bruce Bastin for Flyright, which culminated in a remarkable fifty-five albums of Miller’s productions (not counting the numerous CD issues).

Many fact-finding excursions to the United States were undertaken in the late ’50s and the ’60s. In 1957 Yannick Bruynoghe, author of Big Bill Blues, was among the first Europeans to visit the clubs in Chicago. With Big Bill Broonzy acting as his guide, he met and photographed an astounding number of artists. An account of his three-week visit, “Chicago, Home of the Blues,” appeared in the 1958 compendium Just Jazz, but unfortunately his photographs from that trip were not published for another twenty-five years. Voyage au Pays du Blues was the account of a visit by the French blues enthusiasts Jacques Demetre and Marcel Chauvard to New York, Detroit, and Chicago in 1959. First published in the French magazine Jazz Hot in 1960 and republished in the U.K. by Jazz Journal, their research and the astonishing amount of information they gathered, coupled with their evocative photographs, formed the foundation of much of the blues research that was to follow. Demetre and Chauvard’s venture certainly had an impact on the BU team. The scene the Frenchmen encountered and photographed—John Lee Hooker and Little Sonny at Joe Von Battle’s record store on Detroit’s Hastings Street; Elmore James, Muddy Waters, Little Walter, Tampa Red, and many others in Chicago—is today the stuff of fantasy. Then in 1960 Paul Oliver undertook a research trip that took him through several states, interviewing and recording an extraordinary number of artists. The resulting book, Conversation with the Blues, is a remarkable and provocative document, considered one of the cornerstones of blues literature.

Blues Unlimited reported on the research trips of the ’60s and ’70s in features that are rich in imagery, detail, and information. Notable among them were Bruce Bastin’s trip to Houston in 1965; Mike Rowe and Frank Scott’s 1966 visit to Chicago; Mike Leadbitter’s 1967 Texas trip, which led to a series of articles titled “I Know Houston Can’t Be Heaven”; Bruce Bastin and Pete Lowry’s various travels, described in “Blues from the Southeast”; and John Broven’s visits to Louisiana, recounted in the series “Behind the Sun.” In 1970, John, together with Mike Leadbitter and Robin Gosden, visited New Orleans. Interviews were conducted with Huey Smith, Archibald, and a somewhat neglected Professor Longhair, living in abject poverty and reduced to performing odd jobs at a one-stop record distributor. This was before many in New Orleans awoke to the fact that this iconoclastic figure was living on their doorstep and deserving recognition. From the information gathered on these various trips, several books emerged: Mike Rowe’s Chicago Breakdown, Bruce Bastin’s Crying for the Carolines and Red River Blues, and John Broven’s Walking to New Orleans and South to Louisiana—all seminal works on their subjects and essential to any blues library. Blues Unlimited made a brief foray into the book-publishing world with Broven’s Walking to New Orleans in 1974.

Most issues of BU carried an artist interview. Such pieces were rightly considered to be among the magazine’s most important features. The notable difference between interviews in the early issues and those in later ones was their length. The first interviews rarely exceeded two pages, but as the magazine’s collective expertise grew, greatly helped by the introduction of the cassette recorder, interviews gradually evolved into longer, more in-depth pieces. Questions would be asked about artists’ music, their associates and contemporaries, and their social milieu. Some interviewees were gifted storytellers, others more hesitant and guarded. Occasionally more could be learned about an artist from fellow musicians and band members, for they were often positioned to make acute observations. Jimmy Thomas and Red Holloway personified that role: speaking openly, their BU interviews are informative, detailed, and witty recollections of their days with Jimmy Reed, Ike Turner, and Lloyd Price.

But while most artists were pleased to discover that people were interested in their careers, and more than willing to impart useful information, there were a few loveable rogues who chose to take liberties with the truth. After all, who would ever know the difference when discussing events that took place years and worlds away? Occasionally some of this misinformation made it to print. The outlandish Doctor Ross interview in issue 28 is, in retrospect, laughable. Big Joe Williams, Homesick James, and Sonny Boy Williamson were all guilty of making extravagant statements. In a feature in issue 8 on Sonny Boy Williamson, based on information collected by John Broven, Sonny Boy claimed to have first recorded not in 1951, the date all the smart money was on, but in 1929. To their credit, both John and Kurt Mohr, in his accompanying discography, questioned the veracity of Sonny Boy’s statement. More than forty years later these recordings have yet to surface. Was this pure invention, or was there some substance to his claim? We may never know.

Not everything in BU was generated by the regular contributors or the boys in Bexhill. The magazine would occasionally receive pieces from the artists themselves. Chicago guitarist Jimmy Dawkins was the author of several items, as was bandleader Johnny Otis, who sent interviews with himself and others like Roy Milton, Louis Jordan, and Pee Wee Crayton. Haskell Sadler and O. C. Perkins also sent items. But no matter how diligent the various editors may have been in trying to present accurate information, they didn’t always succeed. Issue 84 reported the death of Bukka White. His followers and disciples were no doubt elated when, in issue 85, they learned of his resurrection. White was not the only musician sent to a premature grave: L. C. McKinley was reported dead in issue 14, only to return to the living in issue 18.

Issue 79, published in January 1971, greeted readers with a somewhat less than enthusiastic editorial that bemoaned the state of the blues scene. While obviously delighted by the flood of excellent reissues, Simon asserted, quite prophetically, “Live blues, however, and ‘new’ blues sessions (as opposed to reissue records) tend to show a steady and general decline. … The ‘future’ is much different to that of 1960. To guess what the next decade will bring is difficult, but a revitalised blues scene is unlikely.”

A milestone was reached in 1973 when issue 100 appeared, a sixty-four-page special celebrating ten years of publication. However, major changes were about to take place. From issue 103 Simon stepped down, handing over the sole editorship to Mike. Simon had been the force behind Blues Unlimited and had ensured its survival through his business acumen, which he had acquired as a wily antiques dealer. He alone typeset, laid out, and pasted up the pages and handled subscriptions, distribution, and mailing, as well as writing reviews and essays and the occasional sleeve note—a Herculean task he undertook in his spare time. In addition, in July 1971 he had helped Tony Russell launch the magazine Old Time Music. After ten years it was time to take a backseat. Issue 103 had a new layout, typesetter, and printer. Under Mike’s editorship the content began to feature more R&B–oriented material, and artists who had previously been given little attention were now accorded more space. Record producers and company owners were also sought out, and interviews with Art Rupe of Specialty and Bob Shad of Sittin’ in With soon appeared.

By this time Mike was living in London and working as the advertising manager of the magazine Let It Rock. He was also heavily involved in numerous album and book projects, most notably the compilation of the first two Genesis box sets of Chess material and the Polydor Juke Blues series. But by early 1974 he had contracted what at the time was an unknown virus. Somehow he still managed to produce BU. An editorial in issue 109 hinted darkly about his illness and apologized for any delays and disruptions to BU’s schedule. Tragically, Mike died of meningitis on November 16, 1974, at the age of thirty-two. His knowledge of blues had been encyclopedic and his commitment total.

“Blues Unlimited Carries On,” the editorial in issue 112 proudly proclaimed. Simon Napier relinquished his interest in BU and a five-person editorial committee assumed ownership, all of whom had been contributors, collaborators, and friends of both Simon and Mike. John Broven and Mike Rowe had been associated with BU from the earliest days. Neil Slaven, as well as co-authoring with Mike Leadbitter the first postwar blues discography, had been co-founder with Mike Vernon of R&B Monthly and was instrumental in the formation of Blue Horizon Records. Bez Turner had been reviewing records for some time, a job he continued to perform, along with that of subscriptions manager. I had begun making contributions to BU about the time Mike took over the editorship. As a photographer I had come into contact with a number of artists and spent a considerable amount of time asking questions while socializing. Foolishly, I had never recorded any of these conversations. It was at Mike Leadbitter’s instigation—a mild bollocking, as I recall—that I took my first tentative steps in conducting more formal interviews and serious research. I also assumed the role of photo editor, responsible for the photographic content of the magazine, liaising with Cilla Huggins, our typesetter and layout artist, and the printers, whom we changed several times.

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Jackie Wilson and Mike Leadbitter.

The BU photographic archive was a treasure trove of unique and extraordinary images. Upon acquiring it, we set about putting it to its best possible use. Our credo was simple: if it’s a good image, use it big. No more postage-stamp-size images for us. Strong images were rarely sacrificed to space restrictions, and interviews were often extended to accommodate all the photographs we wanted to use.

Readers’ letters are also a staple of most publications, but for years Simon and Mike, for whatever reason, chose not to feature a regular letters page and just published an occasional letter. We quickly rectified this and instituted a letters page, which resulted in some lively and amusing exchanges.

Due to pressures of work, John Broven and Neil Slaven ended their involvement with BU in 1976, and for the next ten years the magazine was managed by the team of Greensmith, Rowe, and Turner. If we did not always keep to a regular publishing schedule as Simon had, we did manage to produce what we considered a quality magazine. Mike Rowe and I conducted new research in St. Louis, Missouri, a city whose blues history had long been neglected. There were interviews with Henry Townsend, James Deshay, Tommy Bankhead, and R&B star Fontella Bass; revelatory information on the brothers Aaron and Milton Sparks; and Mike’s rediscovery of the pianist Joe Dean, all shedding new light on long forgotten subjects. John Broven contributed a series of interviews, from his 1975 visit to Los Angeles, with Roy Brown, Harold Battiste, Paul Gayten, Joe Jones, and Earl Palmer. As interviews became more detailed and increased in length, they occasionally spanned two or even three issues. Our resolve was to publish solid research while continuing to chart the course that had been established by Simon and Mike.

In 1985 Bez Turner left BU to form Juke Blues with Cilla Huggins and John Broven. This left Mike Rowe alone to manage the magazine, since by this time I had moved to the United States. Mike, with Tony Russell, carried on for several issues. Issue 148/149 (winter 1987) announced a price increase and bravely looked to the future and a planned “Detroit Special.” Sadly, it was not to be. Beset by numerous problems, the magazine ceased publication.

This is not the first retrospective of Blues Unlimited. In 1971 Hanover Books published Nothing but the Blues, a compendium of interviews and features compiled by Mike Leadbitter from the first fifty issues of BU. It was not without fault. Reviewing the book in issue 82, John Broven praised its good points while holding Hanover and ultimately Mike responsible for its shortcomings—in particular, the typos and the lack of an index and a table of contents. Just why the latter was omitted is perplexing, as in 2007, reviewing some of Simon Napier’s personal papers, I discovered the missing contents page.

Blues Unlimited was the first to publish many groundbreaking interviews and features. For this retrospective we have chosen, for obvious reasons, not to republish material that has been superseded in more recent publications. Most of the material is reprinted as it first appeared. But it’s not often you are given a chance to secondguess yourselves, and we would be remiss if we did not correct known errors. Updated or new introductions, amendments, additional material, and notes have also been added to some interviews.

What is revealing, when reading the old BUs at a distance of fifty years, is not so much what the boys in Bexhill did not know, but just how amazingly well informed they were. Today the names of Johnny Shines, Johnny Young, J. B. Lenoir, and Elmore James are familiar, but in England in 1963, or the United States for that matter, who knew?

Simon Napier passed away, quite unexpectedly, on December 1, 1990. Both he and Mike Leadbitter have secure positions in the pantheon of blues journalism. Mike’s work was recognized when he was inducted posthumously into the Blues Hall of Fame in Memphis in 2009. Simon’s induction is still awaited.

Blues Unlimited was founded by a pair of dedicated enthusiasts and, through a change in ownership, continued to be published by a similarly committed team. Research funded by grants or endowments was never a consideration. Trips to and throughout the United States were funded out of individuals’ own pockets and conducted while on holiday from their day job. Musicians interviewed in London would be bought a pint at the local pub or a cup of tea in one of Joe Lyons’s cafés. What was important was an ability to connect with the artist, who, more often than not, would recognize a genuine interest in and affection for his or her music, and this was probably the key to many successful interviews, as well as the start of many lasting friendships. Today Blues Unlimited is recognized as the pioneering magazine in blues research.

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Neil Slaven, Bill Greensmith, Mike Rowe. (Photo Elizabeth Woodcraft)