In the middle or late nineteen eighties I got a several weeks long engagement in Laredo, Texas, at the La Posada Inn. It is situated in an historic building that once hosted the short-lived independent Republic of Texas. It had a fine restaurant and a bar, with a piano and a piano player to keep customers waiting for a table in a good mood.
I was the piano player and learned to play for long stretches. I think my record duration was over four hours with no interim break. At the end a lady came over and said,” I just had to see who could play and play for that long!” And we talked and she mentioned an uncle of hers who was a musician. His name was Red Camp. A mental light flared up and illuminated a puzzle from long ago. In 1963, on my first US visit, I had been lucky to meet and talk to Lizzie Miles, the “Creole Songbird” and one of the most important singers in early blues and jazz. She had given up blues for religion but had been active recently and she mentioned a session with a remarkable pianist. I wrote down his name and afterwards I couldn’t decipher it. “Red” it said, and “C-something.” I had never been able to figure out his name and filed it the drawer for cold cases.
Until now. Red Camp! The lady saw my enthusiasm and said she would call her uncle and the next day I was sitting at a bar with someone who looked like Lee Marvin on a bad day but who turned
