Les Copeland pulls something that resembles a thick fingernail out of his pocket. It’s a guitar thumb pick that he says his children found under a bed in their home.
Used by acoustic blues guitar players to pluck the strings, Copeland, himself a guitarist, had lost his fair share of picks. However, when he was presented with this one –– its small opening used by someone with rather small but dextrous hands –– he realized it didn’t belong to him. It once fit the hand of one of the last living Mississippi Delta bluesmen.
Copeland is still absorbing the news announced around the world this past week that his mentor, legendary singer and guitarist David “Honeyboy” Edwards, died Monday in his Chicago home at the age of 96.
Edwards was not only a Grammy award winning artist, recognized with two awards, including a lifetime achievement Grammy in 2010, he was an inspiration to the many who preceded him and those who followed, including Copeland who had the opportunity to not only perform with his idol, but call him friend.
“I loved that old man. I’ll never forget him,” said Copeland while looking over photos and sharing memories about his relationship with Edwards.
“I last saw Honeyboy when I went to visit him at his home in Chicago at the end of July. He and Micheal (Frank, Edward’s longtime manager) cashed in their air miles so I could fly down there… I wanted to put the feeling off, but deep down I knew his days were growing short. His last words to me were, ‘I’m gonna get better and in the fall we’re gonna tour and make some money.’”
Copeland’s meeting with the man, who at 17, left his Mississippi home and would come to live with blues giant Charley Patton, making friends with the likes of Robert Johnson, and performing alongside Muddy Waters and many other blues greats, was, in his words, life changing.
While working at a dead-end job by day and playing smoky, boozy local clubs at night, Copeland took on a volunteer position as a valet for Edwards at the Roots and Blues Festival in 1997.
“He was in the green room behind the stage and was rubbing liniment on his legs, saying that everything worked from the waist on up, it was his legs that didn’t,” Copeland said about his first encounter with the then 81-year-old musician. “He had these contracts all around him, and had me sit down beside him to see how the business works.”
Dumbfounded, Copeland says he was shocked to see one contact that stated the promoters would pay Edwards, a legend in his own right, $360 to play a gig in California.
“I learned more from that guy about being a musician than anyone. He was a benevolent, charismatic genius. He spoke up when he had to, and he was a wise old man who watched his contemporaries die.”
The men’s friendship was sealed, when after playing Roots and Blues, Copeland was driving Edwards to the Kelowna airport, past the factory where he worked, and Edwards told him to leave his job and come visit him down in Chicago.
Copeland eventually made it down to the southside of the Windy City –– a notoriously rough part of town –– and said he lasted one day.
“I wanted to come back home to my kids,” said Copeland, a father of eight, including three stepchildren.
Edwards would instead come north, and he along with Frank, who besides being Edwards’ manager, recorded his music under his Earwig label, served as his publicist, booked his shows, and played harmonica, made up a Canadian tour that included Copeland.
Over the course of time, the men toured the country at least two dozen times.
In 2009, Copeland joined Edwards and Frank on a tour through Europe that included England, Wales, Italy and Austria. While there, the men performed at the famed Biennale festival in Venice.
“I got to see the inside of his life by travelling with him. The situations on the road were sometimes not ideal, and he would bitch a little and then it’d be over. I swear that man hardly ever complained,” said Copeland, who besides being in awe of performing with Edwards, was just as in awe when hearing his stories.
“We were in a hotel room in Edmonton, and I remember him saying, ‘I don’t know why I’ve lived this long.’ He was not a God fearing man, but he said his fate was up to God… He had a lot of friends who came to a violent demise, but he was not the kind of guy who would steal someone’s wife. He was not stupid.
“He would see me having problems, and he would say ‘you gotta leave other people behind, and think about yourself.’ He’d also put me in my place. If I ever played on top of him, he’d tell me to tone it down.”
When it came time for Copeland to lay down his first professional recording, 2010’s Don’t Let the Devil In, produced by Frank’s Earwig Records, Edwards took time from touring to go into a studio in Prince Albert, Sask. to record two tracks for the album. (Other songs were recorded at the Groove Recording Studio in Vernon.)
“For me it is the coolest thing in the world to have this CD with my hero backing me up, and having Michael on harmonica back me up too… I plan to continue working with Earwig and it’s all because of Honeyboy,” said Copeland, who also thanks his late mentor for a gig he recently performed in Norway.
Originally scheduled to perform with Edwards and Frank at the Notodden Blues Festival, located 70 kilometres north of Oslo, the appearance, slated for early August this year, was cancelled due to Edwards’ health.
After mulling it over, Copeland called the booking agent and asked if he could be kept on the bill. The answer was a resounding yes, and he was scheduled for three shows, which included a plane ticket to Oslo and his own valet driver that took him to Notodden.
On his last performance, Copeland celebrated his 52nd birthday, with the whole audience singing to him.
“I wouldn’t have gone to Norway if Honeyboy hadn’t put those contracts out when I first met him. He allowed me to get out of the house. I went to school every time I was with him.”
