“I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees/I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees/I asked the Lord above, have mercy, save poor Bob if you please/Uumb, standing at the crossroads I tried to flag a ride/Standing at the crossroads I tried to flag a ride/Ain’t nobody seem to know me, everybody pass me by.”
“C’mon, Robert, let’s practice in the graveyard so no one can disturb us. We won’t hafta worry `bout those white folk huntin’ us down at night `tween the tombstones. It’s mighty quiet in there at night too, seein’ as everyone there is dead and all”.
“You got you a point there, Ike, you got you a point, my friend. I’ve been admiring your skills fo’ so long and I’m seekin’ to play even better than that. I’ll be a famous blues player fo’ sho’ one day. So let’s head on down to the crossroads past the edge of town and into the graveyard gate. We sho’ won’t be disturbed.”
Johnson and Zinnerman played many nights in that graveyard never once feeling the presence of that ol’ Crossroads Demon that was about to change the course of Johnson’s life. A few weeks later…“Ike, say, why can’t you make it out to the graveyard tonight? I been wantin’ to show you all them tunes I’m writin’. I’ve been catching fire with this here guitar.”
“Cain’t make it t’nite, man. Them hooded men from the church been out lynchin’ and I ain’t takin’ no chance. `Sides, Willie Brown say you been talkin’ bout sometimes you meetin’ a big ol’ black man down near the crossroads. You got a new teacher or sumthin’? Has that Son House got you all puffed up for lettin’ you take on his ‘Death Letter’ tune, put yer own sound to it? Damn traitor!”
“Hush, man, I’ll tell what I told Willie and what I been tellin’ Son. Man big and black been lurin’ me out nights promisin’ me he gone make me a real famous bluesman. Don’t know where he came from. Never seen him here in Robinsonville or not even down Clarksville or Rosedale way. But I seen him there at the crossroads. He took my guitar from me and tuned it up real nice. Played like the devil, I tell you…then he handed it to me and says he gone make me famous. All’s I got to do is sell him my soul! Small price, I say and he ain’t no God or no devil!”
“Yeah, well, you better watch yo’ ass out there tonight. Lynchins happenin’ all over the county. Got me scared our of my briches.”
“No matter, man. I already gone and sold my soul. That devil done made me a blues master!”
Zinnerman saw plain and clear that Johnson had somehow mastered quickly the great blues stylings of the guitar. The two traveled up and down the Delta, making a name for themselves all the way to Dallas, Texas and up through Illinois. Six of Johnson’s blues songs talk about the devil and the supernatural. It is strongly believed that near Greenwood, Mississippi, Johnson was poisoned with strychnine and died a few days later. It is not known for sure who poisoned him.“Early this morning when you knocked upon my door/Early this morning, umb, when you knocked upon my door/And I said, ‘Hello, Satan, I believe it’s time to go… You may bury my body down by the highway side/You may bury my body, uumh, down by the highway side/So my old evil spirit can catch a Greyhound bus and ride.”
to janene this is the daugter of ike zimmerman when you feel like writting anything about my daddy you need to go
threw me and my sisters, because the infomation that you have
written is totally false.Unless you want to meet me in COURT!
THANK YOU AGAIN LORETHA THOMAS ZIMMERMAN