Chris Strachwitz

Arhoolie Records has been in business for four decades now, a venerable institution of American roots (and recently, world) music. Although it's grown considerably over the years, the label is still a labor of love, and the vision of the man who began it 40 years ago - Chris Strachwitz, who was born in Germany, but moved to the U.S. after World War II. Here he talks about what led him to begin his label.

Q: What was the first music to grab you?

"I remember stopping at a roadside and asking if people had heard any good guitar pickers."

A: My mother brought a couple of 78s from the States in the late ‘30s, when I was 6 or 7. One of them was "Sonny Boy" by Al Jolson, and we thought that was the cat's meow. Then when I came here I started collecting records. They were very expensive then, 79 cents apiece in the late ‘40s, and I was only getting 75 cents a week allowance. The very first record I bought was "Bully Woolly Boogie," by Heather Brooks. I saw that in some store. I knew I liked boogie woogie after I'd seen the movie New Orleans. I just totally wigged out on the music in that movie, and it had Meade Lux Lewis, Louis Armstrong, and Kid Ory. I looked for their records, which were hard to find.

"One of the first hillbilly records I ever bought was T. Texas Tyler on Four Star, "Remember Me," with "Oklahoma Hills" on the other side. I may have sent away for that. There were broadcasts in southern California, you could send to a mail-order shop. It was a Hollywood company, and these were records you wouldn't find in most stores. XERB was the main outlet for hillbilly music, it blasted out from Rosarito Beach, just south of Tijuana. Mexican music wasn't marketable then, so they did nothing but hillbilly music all day long. I'd wake up and listen to it. My friend and I even wrote to them, asking what it would take to be an announcer on XERB, and they wrote back, saying the first requirement was to be a Mexican national. I wasn't even a U.S. national at that time! It's still a big powerful station, called XTRA, and just plays Mexican music now.

Q: You've released a lot of older Mexican music, and been influential in some ways in bringing it to people's attention.

A: I've delved into the old material in that field, but I don't think I had one iota of influence on the market. Q: Blues was you rea love, and you resiised a lot of blues discs even before you began Arhoolie. A: Sam Charters was the leader in reissues, on Folkways, he started the RBF series. I did see the Harry Smith, but it was all on Folkways, and I really admired that label. The majors were doing nothing whatsoever. We started Old Timey Records and Blues Classics. We were thinking what names we were going to give these labels, and someone said, "Boot." In the ‘50s Louis Armstrong's agent sued Jolly Roger Records, who were reissuing things on 78 and LP. Apparently they got them on using the name and likeness without permission. I wanted to avoid that. The Memphis Minnie I did was in response to hearing that she was in dire straits in a Memphis hospital. Jo Ann Kelly visited her, I visited her. Sam Charters told me where certain people lived. I sent money to Blind Boy Fuller's widow for a record. We tried to pay wherever I could find them. Bob Pinson, who accompanied my on my first trip to Texas, when he interviewed Sleepy Johnson, I was very impressed. He asked where Johnson learned blues, and the reply was "Well, we used to go into them furniture stores or wherever and listen to the latest n____r records."

Q: What about the International Blues Record Club?

A: It was a way to make a few nickels. I was barely eking out an existence. My teaching job paid less than $7000 a year. My hobby was buying old 78s. In the mid-‘50s they went out of style, and you could buy them all over very cheaply. That's when I went into volume - by which I mean 100 at a time. They were still costing a nickel or a dime apiece. Then I found out through advertising in VJM in England that there was an audience that was willing to pay up to a dollar or two for these records. And that's how I started. Some collectors over there got some nice stuff. I was one of the first to become hip to this stuff; I'd pick up anything that said ‘Blues singer with guitar.' I began to learn the labels.

Q: You loved blues, but what about other styles? It seems as if you were just in love with roots music.

A: I loved New Orleans jazz, especially Bunk Johnson and George Lewis, so soulful and blues drenched. And I loved hillbilly music. But it was Lightnin' Hopkins who really kicked me. His lazy drawl was the ultimate in musical genius, and the poetry he made. I like Muddy, especially his fast ones. I liked rhythm bands - we used to go to the honking sessions.

Q: You went to Texas to record Hopkins.

A: That was in'59. We didn't have the sense to ask these records companies, although they probably wouldn't have told us anyway. There were articles wondering where Lightnin' Hopkins was from, and then comes this postcard from Sam Charters...

Q: But that wasn't your first trip to the South.

A: When I came out of the army in Arkansas, I realized my dream town (New Orleans) wasn't that far south, so I took a bus down and stayed three or four days. I'd never had a sense what it was like down there, except for the radio. I listened to the Dixieland Jam Bake in 1949 or ‘50. My great-aunt, who we lived with in Reno, walked into her living room while I was listening to the show and said, ‘My goodness, where is that broadcast coming form - the Belgian Congo?' She'd never heard black music.

Q: So how did you get into the record business?

A: I have to give credit to the two people who helped me enormously. One was Mack McCormack. Without him I don't think I would have ever had the gumption to do all those things. He's very knowledgeable. He realized there were people like Lightnin' around, and said ‘Let's go!.' I'd had experience doing detective work. I remember stopping at a roadside and asking if people had heard any good guitar pickers. I did that a number of times - it's how I ran into Black Ace. That music was still pretty vibrant at that time, not totally lost to those people. Most of the folklorists detested commercial artists, but I wanted people I could put out on record. I lived off being Lightnin's agent, taking a percentage off the gigs I got for him and Mance [Lipscomb], and selling the records at the gigs. But it was rough. We stayed in motels that cost $3, and looked for 22 cent a gallon gas.

Q: But you remained a record collector?

A: I could never afford these mountains of 78s I was confronted with. In Philadelphia someone told me about a place where they had records. I went there and they opened this humongous steel gate on rollers, and this warehouse was stacked from bottom to ceiling with 78s - Chess, Peacock, Sun! I asked if I could do through it, but you had to buy the whole thing. There was a trailer truck at the Hayward Flea market. I bought a boxful of "Excelsior" by Smokey Hogg, 25 of them for $1.25 - that I could afford. Some came from pressing plants, other from jukebox operators, and it was pressed in massive amounts. Wolf's Record Store in Oakland kept all their 78s in the back after they brought in 45s. I remember going through those. I just enjoy it so much. I've always wondered, ‘Can I sell this?' I knew people wanted blues, but there wasn't much response to country. I wish I'd done more with gospel, but that didn't turn up much, it was much rarer than the blues stuff, and it was bought up. The blues I liked was considered really awful by most blacks. I was in a record store in L.A., and when I told her what I was looking for, she said, ‘Man, who do you want with those lowdown blues?' She was horrified.

But Strachwitz has persisted, and made a real impact on American music. His label has achieved an enviable reputation, and let's hope 40 years is just the beginning of the story...