A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs - PLEDGE WEEK: “Blues Run the Game” by Jackson C Frank

Episode Date: July 11, 2022

This episode is part of Pledge Week 2022. Every day this week, I’ll be posting old Patreon bonus episodes of the podcast which will have this short intro. These are short, ten- to twenty-minute bonus podcasts which get posted to Patreon for my paying backers every time I post a new main episode — there are well over a hundred of these in the archive now. If you like the sound of these episodes, then go to patreon.com/andrewhickey and subscribe for as little as a dollar a month or ten dollars a year to get access to all those bonus episodes, plus new ones as they appear. Click below for the transcript (more…)

Hello, this episode is part of Pledge Week 2022. Every day this week, I'll be posting old Patreon bonus episodes of the podcast, which will have this short intro. These are short 10 to 20 minute bonus podcasts, which get posted to Patreon for my paying backers every time I post a new main episode. There are well over 100 of these in the archive now. If you like the sound of these episodes, then go to patreon.com slash Andrew Hickey and subscribe for us. little as a dollar a month or $10 a year to get access to all those bonus episodes plus new ones as they appear. Before I start, a warning. Even though this episode is short, it deals with many, many upsetting subjects. If you're likely to be upset by a story dealing with the death and disfigurement of small children,

disability, mental illness, gun violence and eye injuries, you're probably. probably best off skipping this episode altogether, as it deals with these subjects right from after the first accept of music until the end. It's not a happy story. In this week's main episode, we talked briefly about a record that Paul Simon produced while he was in Britain, before the Sound of Silence became a big hit. The performer whose record he produced only released that one album in his lifetime, but it's a record that had an outsized influence on the British folk music scene. So today, we're going to have a look at the tragic life of Jackson C. Frank and at Blues Run the Game.

Jackson C. Frank's life started to go badly, irrevocably wrong when he was just 11 years old. His family lived in Buffalo, New York, where the winters are long and cold, and Jackson was a baby boomer. Because of the tremendous number of new children going through the school system, the brick school house at the school he attended had been augmented within an annex, made out of wood. And he was in that annex, in a music lesson. when the boiler exploded and set fire to it. Jackson was one of the lucky ones. That fire took the life of 15 of his classmates,

and spurred a national movement towards banning timber buildings for schools and the institution of fire drills, which up to that point had not been a thing. Jackson got thrown out of a window by a teacher, and the snow put out the flames on his back, meaning he only suffered burns over 60% of his body, scarring him for life. He had to spend a year in hospital, have a tracheotomy, and have a metal plate put in his head.

He developed thyroid problems, got calcium deposits that built up over the years and frequently left him in agony, and always worked with a limp, and only had limited movement in his arms. Many celebrities did things to comfort the children, who became nationally known. Kirk Douglas came to the hospital to visit them, and later in his childhood, Jackson was able to go and meet Elvis, who became a big inspiration for the young man. He spent his teenage years going around the local music scene, including spending a long time with a friend who later became known as John K. of Steppenwolf.

But then when he turned 21, he got a massive insurance payout that had been held in trust for him. I've seen different numbers for this. It was either $50,000 or $100,000, and in modern terms that would be about 10 times that much. Being a young man, he didn't want to invest it. He wanted to buy expensive cars.

He wanted an Aston Martin and a Bentley. And Britain was where they made Aston Martins and Bentley's. So he caught a boat to England and on the trip over started writing songs, including the one that would become his best known. Another city, baby, another town. Wherever I have gone, wherever I've been and gone,

wherever I have gone. Once I'm following down is a gamble baby, loving's much the same, Wherever I have played, whenever I throw them dies, Wherever I have played the blues. Once he was in the UK, Frank moved into Judith Piapps Flat, where he started a relationship with an 18-year-old nurse, who was also trying to be a singer. Frank encouraged her to follow her dreams and become a professional.

and Sandy Denny would later record some of his songs and wrote the song next time around about him. While he was in London, he became well known on the folk circuit, regularly playing Lay Cousins, and as Ralph MacTell put it, everyone sang Blues Run the Game. Over the years, the song has been performed by everyone from Bert Yansh, to Counting Crows. Frank's own I'm drinking Mean room service honey

Frank's own version of the song Frank's own version of the song was recorded on his one and only album Which was produced by Paul Simon As we heard in the main episode That album also included songs like Carnival, which has now possibly become the song of Franks that has been heard by most people, as it was featured both on the soundtrack and in the dialogue of the 2019 film Joker. I've seen your face in every place that I'll be going. I read your words like black, hungry birds read every so on. Rise and fall, spin and call.

The album didn't sell, and Frank returned to the US after marrying Elaine Sedgwick, the cousin of Edie Sedgwick. He was missed when he left, and Roy Harper, another folk musician who played the same circuit, wrote, My Friend about his departure. So now you tell me that you're leaving, my friend, and I can but leave you into your world of blood. When he came back in 1968 to do a couple of shows, though, his depression, which had always been bad since the fire, had worsened. Al Stewart said he proceeded to fall apart before our very eyes. His style that everyone loved was melancholy, very tuneful things.

He started doing things that were completely impenetrable. They were basically about psychological angst, played at full volume with lots of thrashing. I don't remember a single word of them. It just did not work. There was one review that said that he belonged on a psychologist's couch. He was withdrawn and wouldn't speak to people, and he had writer's block.

To make matters worse, his home life was also going awfully. His insurance money had all run out, but Paul Simon had given him a loan of $3,000, with Simon taking Frank's publishing as surety, so he could start a business. But the business failed, and Simon kept the publishing.

In 1971, when Art Garfunkel was recording his first solo album, he asked Frank if he had a song that might be suitable. Frank had actually written a new song, Juliet. Unfortunately, when he turned up to see Garfunkel, he brought along a few hippie friends, who all made fun of Garfunkel for being a sellout, and so Garfunkel didn't record the song, though he did give Frank a new guitar.

By the early 70s, Frank was in a very bad way. He and his wife had had two children, but one had died of cystic fibrosis and the marriage had ended. He spent periods of time in psychiatric hospitals and was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, though he always said himself that he wasn't schizophrenic. He was suffering from depression because of the loss of his son. He was living off handouts from friends, even as his songs were inspiring new artists like Nick Drake, who recorded four of his songs. You know, and will the days go by, babe, like a southbound tree.

Yes, it's funny thinking, you won't ever call my name. Here comes long, lonely. In the early 80s, he was living with his parents. But then in 1984, while his mother was in hospital, he got an idea. He could go to New York and find his old friend Paul and ask him for his publishing back, or maybe just for some money. He didn't leave a note and his parents had no idea where he'd gone.

He did go to New York but he couldn't find his friend and he ended up homeless living on the streets and in and out of psychiatric institutions. In the early 90s a fan tracked him down and helped sort out some of accommodation for him in Woodstock where he'd lived in his 20s. By this time he was in an awful physical and mental state

and the fan described him as looking like the elephant man because of the bloating from his thyroid problems and his joint issues affecting his posture, though I have to say that from the couple of photos I've seen of him at this time, that's quite an exaggeration. But just to rub salt in the wound, after the accommodation had been arranged, but before he'd had a chance to move,

he was sat on a park bench in Queens, and some kids, shooting randomly with a pellet gun, hit him in his left eye, permanently blinding him in that eye. His rediscovery got a bit of publicity and led to his album being reissued on CD. He also started writing again and recorded some demos on a cheap cassette recorder in 1997, many of which have since been released on various compilations.

But 1997 was also the year that Frank moved into a care home, and he wouldn't record anymore after that. In 1998, Paul Simon finally returned his publishing to him, presumably having given up on ever getting his $3,000 back. And on March 3, 1999, one day after, After his 56th birthday, Jackson C. Frank died of pneumonia. His game had finally won to its end.