Snooks Eaglin - R.I.P

Snooks Eaglin playing "Baby Please" at the Lone Star Roadhouse with George Porter Jr.

From the Times-Picayune:

Snooks Eaglin, the idiosyncratic New Orleans rhythm & blues guitarist with fleet-fingered dexterity and a boundless repertoire, died Wednesday afternoon. He was 72.

"He was the most New Orleans of all the New Orleans acts that are still living," said Mid-City Lanes owner John Blancher.

Snooks got his name from Baby Snooks. Y'all remember Baby Snooks, don't you? Of course, you youngsters don't. You have to be old to remember her.

Glaucoma blinded Eaglin in infancy.

The digits on Mr. Eaglin's right hand flailed at seemingly impossible angles as he finger-picked and strummed a guitar's strings. A set by the so-called "Human Jukebox" could range from Beethoven's "Fur Elise" to Bad Company's "Ready for Love."

He thrived on feedback from onlookers, gleefully took requests and challenged his musicians to keep up. Utterly unselfconscious, he would render fellow guitarists slack-jawed with a blistering run, then announce from the stage that he needed to use the bathroom
....

In the early 1960s, Mr. Eaglin released a handful of singles for Imperial Records under the name "Ford" Eaglin. He logged three years in the house band at the Playboy Club off Bourbon Street.

After the British Invasion decimated the market for New Orleans rhythm & blues, he semi-retired. The launch of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival in 1970 brought with it fresh opportunity.
....

"He's an irreplaceable guy," Blancher said. "More celebrities came to see Snooks than anyone. His reputation was as big as anyone's in New Orleans. And he wouldn't travel, so if you wanted to see Snooks you had to come to Rock 'n Bowl."

During the 2000 Jazz Fest, Bonnie Raitt showed up at the Mid-City Lanes to hear Mr. Eaglin. He exclaimed from the stage, "Listen to this, Bonnie! You gonna learn something tonight, girl!" She later lent a hand by replacing a broken string on his guitar.


Like many of us, Eaglin was a storyteller.

Among the most infamous is the time Mr. Eaglin drove the Flamingos home following a Saturday night gig in Donaldsonville. The musicians were so intoxicated that they decided their blind guitarist was the most qualified driver.

Mr. Eaglin claimed he navigated the curves of the road from memory. The crunch of gravel under the tires warned him when the '49 Studebaker strayed onto the shoulder. The story concludes with Mr. Eaglin pulling up to his house early Sunday morning and his mother suggesting the musicians proceed directly to church.

I defy anyone to top that New Orleans story.

I commend Keith Spera for writing a fine tribute to Snooks.