One of the major architects of Swamp Pop, King Karl, was born on December 22, 1931 bit.ly/1AQha3Q Bernard Jolivette was born in the St. Landry Parish community of Grand Coteau, Louisiana. He started playing guitar at 13, gigging occasionally with Creole accordion legend Hank Broussard. Five years later, he moved to Beaumont, Texas, in search of work, and found it as a relief singer for Lloyd Price (the New Orleans vocalist who would later have many Top 10 hits including Lawdy Miss Clawdy and Stagger Lee). Then the Korean War came and off Bernard went. I was in for two years, he says. Two years too many. After his release from Uncle Sams grasp, Bernard returned to his home state and formed a group called the Musical Kings with a local fellow by the name of Guitar Gable. That was 1955, the same year Bernard metamorphosed into King Karl. The band recorded a single that became an instant regional hit, Congo Mombo, that featured a King Karl vocal on the flip side, Life Problem. After that there was the Karl-penned hit Irene. You know how that came about? chuckles the sly King. I just based it on Goodnight Irene. It was a switcheroo. In those days, if you didnt perform live, you didnt amount to much. These are some of the places the Musical Kings were playing 35 years ago: the Hix Wagon Club in Ville Platte, Bubba Lurchers in Lake Charles, the Re Bop Club in St. Martinville, Rogers Nite Club in Breaux Bridge and the Tuxedo Junction, which was all the way to Shreveport and paid $250 for one night. From 1955 to the late Sixties, I made my living from playing, says Karl, who opened for guys like Percy Sledge and the late Albert Collins. In the Fifties, we could have worked seven days a week if we wanted to, playing the clubs and colleges. After I joined Guitar Gable, it was two years before we played in front of a black audience. With a white audience, well, thats where the money was. Despite the potential dynamite of an all-black band performing the devils music in all-white, pre-civil rights Southern towns, Karl doesnt recall any serious trouble. There were two places in Louisiana, one called Henderson and one called Catahoula. They used to put the chicken screen around the stage there. We played there two times. But those were the worst places and we didnt have an inch of trouble. In Catahoula, there wasnt a black person living there. In Henderson, when we played there, a black man couldnt go fishing there. The deputy had to meet us on the outskirts of town, then take us back out. But we never had any trouble. Like many pioneering black artists, King Karl says he was taken advantage of--to put it mildly--by a more business-minded individual. In this case, he was a studio owner, songwriter and manager of talent named J.D. The main quarrel centers on a song called This Should Go On Forever that somebody wrote; it was recorded by Karl in 1957, but, at J.D.s behest, stayed in the can for two years until a version by Rob Bernard was released by Chess Records. And yes, it did very well. King Karl died of a lung ailment on December 7, 2005 in Mesa, Arizona, where he had made his home since 1992. He was laid to rest with full military honors on December 15, in Phoenix National Cemetery. He was fifteen days short of his 74th birthday.
Posted on: Mon, 22 Dec 2014 15:31:16 +0000
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