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PREVIOUSLY:

• MUSICAL MEMOIR: Playing with Hubert Sumlin and Sunnyland Slim at Arcata’s Jambalaya Club, 1976

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This musicial memoir and others can be found on Paul DeMark’s Substack.

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Sunnyland Slim looked a little stunned when Arcata’s mayor handed him the key to the city.

It was September 4, 1979 when Sunnyland and Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson performed two shows together at Bret Harte’s Club in Arcata’s Jacoby Storehouse. Yes, he was called Cleanhead because he was totally bald. 

Today the venue is The Basement and before that it was Abruzzi’s Italian restaurant. Arcata, for non-local readers, is in Humboldt County, Northern California.

I was a 28-year-old Blue Lake resident at the time and a member of a popular local dance band, Caledonia. I was drumming behind both musicians on a two-week Northern California tour. The rest of the band included Harry Duncan – who booked the tour – on harmonica and vocals and Chicago guitarist Steve Freund, now a resident of the San Francisco Bay Area.

I’d been playing on and off with the 73-year-old Sunnyland for seven years. He literally helped create the Chicago blues sound when he moved from Memphis to Chicago in the early 1940s and started playing with Muddy Waters, Howling Wolf and his own bands.

It was my first time playing with Vinson, 62 at the time. He had been a star swing-jazz, bebop and R&B singer/alto sax player in the 1940s through the early 1970s. Born in Houston, Texas, he was precocious enough as a young man to hook up with Big Bill Broonzy, the Cootie Williams Band and eventually Jay McShann’s Orchestra.

He recorded a number of hit songs that made the rhythm and blues charts featuring his smooth vocals and sax playing — Kidney Stew Blues, Cherry Red, and Cleanhead Blues. It was an honor to play with such a fine, accomplished performer. A soft-spoken, lean man, he was still swinging hard.

Like Sunnyland, he dressed stylishly for the stage. He used subtle gestures to lead me on the drums. When he was coming to a part in a song where there was a stop, he didn’t motion me with his hand over his head or say “look out” over the mic like many singers do. Instead, standing in front of me, he’d take his right hand behind his back and gently close his fist to signal the pause. Classy.

I decided to try to do something special for these blues legends, especially Sunnyland who had become my musical mentor and friend. 

A few weeks before the tour started, I called my friend Wesley Chesbro, who was on the Arcata City Council. “Wesley, do you think there is any way I could convince the city of Arcata to give the keys to the city to Sunnyland and Cleanhead Vinson?”

“Possibly,” he said. “Write a letter to the city council proposing what you’d like to see happen and I’ll present at the next meeting.”

Poster for the 1979 show, created by Don ‘White King D’ Hunter. Note the ticket price: $4 in advance, $4.50 at the door.

In my letter I said they were two extraordinary artists in the history of black rhythm and blues. I requested the city give them each a key to the city of Arcata. Also, since the Robert Cray Blues Band would also be playing Bret Harte’s later that week, I asked the city council to declare it Blues Week in Arcata.

Chesbro called me the day after the city council meeting. “The council approved both of your proposals,” he said. “Now you need to get the keys made.”

I asked Wesley if they could be made out of a redwood in the shape of keys with metal plates bearing their names and the Arcata Key to the City on it. He said to go for it and the city would pay the bill.   

I found a woodshop in Arcata, made the order and left the next day to begin the tour in San Francisco. They told me I could pick them up when I returned.  

I called Chesbro while on the road to ask how the event would unfold. He said he and Arcata Mayor Dan Hauser would be at the beginning of the first show. I told him I wanted it kept a secret. They should come on to the stage just before we are set to play. 

In the band, only Harry knew what was going to happen. As we filed onto the stage to get ready to play the first set, I watched Chesbro and Hauser walk onto the stage. 

Hauser approached the mic and told the sold-out house that the Arcata City Council had voted to declare it Blues Week at its last meeting and it was his honor to present the keys to the city to Sunnyland Slim and Eddie Cleanhead Vinson.

Sunnyland, looking surprised but smiling, stood up and received the foot-long redwood key from Hauser. Chesbro then gave Vinson his own key as the crowd cheered. Sunnyland looked over at me and smiled before we hit the first swing number, Cleanhead’s Kidney Stew.

In an interview in March 2026, Chesbro reflected on the event. “It was a real privilege with two cultural superstars coming to town to help get them their deserved special recognition.”

The morning after the show, Sunnyland picked Harry and me up to visit the local record stores to see if they had any of his albums for sale. He was always hustling his trade.  

We first stopped at the Holiday Gardens Motel to see if Cleanhead would like to go with us. I knocked on his door and he came out in his bathrobe looking tired. “I’ve got to stay in to rest,” he said quietly and closed the door.

When I got back to Sunnyland’s car, he said, “What’s happening with Cleanhead?” I told him he wanted to stay in and sleep.

“The man’s acting like he’s 50 years older than Eubie Blake,” an irritated Sunnyland said, Blake, who was 92 at the time, was renowned as an early jazz and ragtime pianist. At the time, Blake looked more like 100.  

While Sunnyland drove to Arcata’s The Record Works, I was sitting in the back seat of his Oldsmobile station wagon with Harry in the front. “Harry, I had a dream last night that Paul was on the city council,” Sunnyland said. “Paul, you could be a politician.”

Maybe I could have been, but I stuck to playing the drums instead.

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Author’s note: Thank you to Pamela Long for editing and Julian DeMark for photo scanning.