Credit: Dangerous Minds / Library of Congress
Did Lead Belly really sing himself out of prison in twice?
As the ever-present myth of Robert Johnson selling his soul to the devil shows, there’s no form of mystique quite like the one bequeathed to classic blues singers.
Perhaps it has something to do with those recordings, as well. There are few more haunting sounds than the bluesmen recorded onto acetate, telling stories of hard, hellbound lives over a shrieking, distorted yet somehow lonely-sounding acoustic guitar.
Ryan Coogler was onto something in Sinners, where he depicted blues music played at its best with something not only profound, but literally magical. Something that pierced the veil between worlds, letting light and darkness in, almost in equal measure.
The story most associated with Lead Belly is, on the one hand, far less fantastical than Johnson’s. After all, people ever since have been going down to crossroads all over the south asking for his still-mesmerising skill at the guitar, and the devil just can’t be fucked to turn up.
On the other hand, it’s also a story about a Black man in the 1920s South who, through sheer musical wizardry, was able to sing himself out of jail time and possibly worse.
This was long before he came to prominence as Lead Belly. The story goes, this was still when he was Huddie William Leadbetter, a travelling musician flitting from red light district to red light district. He occasionally did time, but nothing too serious. In 1915, he served time in a chain gang but escaped, reinventing himself as Walter Boyd. This new life lasted only three years, until 1918, when he shot a man dead in self-defence.
He was promptly arrested and, due to the murder and the prior escape, he was sentenced to 30 years in prison.
How did Lead Belly supposedly get out of prison?
After seven years inside, so the story goes, Lead Belly decided that he was fed up with this prison lark and decided to do something about his situation, so he did what he did best and turned to music. He wrote a song pleading for his release and had it sent to then-Texas governor Pat Neff on acetate, and on Neff’s last day in office, he heard the song and pardoned the folk singer in 1925 – an inspiring story, but one that takes another turn five years later.
By 1930, the infamous temper of Lead Belly got the better of him again. Not for nothing was one of his most distinguishing features the enormous amount of scars on his head and face. The singer and guitarist was found guilty of assault with the intention to murder and sent to another prison, the notorious Louisiana state penitentiary known colloquially as ‘Angola’. However, by this time, Lead Belly was considerably more famous than he had been 12 years prior.
In 1933, John Lomax and his father Alan had been travelling the South, making recordings of rural folk and blues singers who might not have had the chance to have their songs committed to wax otherwise. On their travels, they stopped off at Angola to visit Lead Belly and see if he could contribute to their project. The story goes that once more, the song that he recorded was so powerful that it convinced the governor of Louisiana to pardon Lead Belly again.
However, this is a myth. One that probably spread due to people confusing it with the previous story. The truth is that Lead Belly was due for early release due to good behaviour, and said release coincided with the visit of the Lomaxes. However, they did help Lead Belly turn his life around, the singer asking for help with their project and getting a record deal as a direct result. That much is verifiably true in a way that neither story of Lead Belly singing to be released from prison is.
However, what is the blues without a good myth?
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