I have watched people walk through the doors of Buddy Guy’s Legends with looks of profound admiration and excitement. They gaze into the trophy case where numerous W.C. Handy Awards, a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame statue, two Grammys, and other notable items reside. They stare at the merchandise trying to decide what would be the best souvenir to take home: a compact disc, a shirt, a hat, or a Fender Stratocaster.
I am the first person that people see when they walk into the club. I am the greeter, the host, the door guy, and the spokesperson for the club at that particular moment. I give the customers the itinerary for the evening; I answer questions about the history of the club and about Buddy Guy himself.
My job is primarily one of making sure that the environment remains safe, friendly, and conducive to the evenings’ festivities, but it is hard not to get hypnotized by the sounds coming from the stage. The eerie echo of Guy plucking away at his guitar, his catchy hooks, an his on-stage charisma after a few shots of cognac is what brings the people back night after night in January. Keeping up with Guy’s spontaneous moments in the crowd, and making sure the wet spots on the floor from snowy shoes are dry or well lit for him to avoid, figuring out which door he is going to re-enter after getting a breath of crisp, winter air is only part of the job description.
It is hard to discuss your job at Legends without talking about January. This place revolves around the first month of the year. It is the initiation into really being a part of the Legends staff. One of our managers says to new employees jokingly, “You aren’t really staff until you’ve worked a ‘Buddy Show’ and a ‘Blues Fest’.” Blues Fest is an indoor festival that starts the same day as the city’s annual Blues festival. But January is the pinnacle of it all.
Our boss puts on a string of performances that sends an electrifying message to remind us of why we are here: the keep the blues alive. It is in that month that we bond as a family for the purpose of further assisting him in his goal. And often times I think to myself about how people line up in the early mornings on the days of the Buddy shows and how they dedicate an entire day to Buddy Guy’s Legends-playing cards, reading books, drinking, making new acquaintances and revisiting those friends from the previous years. They patiently wait for the sun to set and the hours to go by until the moment that made it all worthwhile arrives.
People come to this famous place to hear renditions of Sweet Home Chicago, Mustang Sally, and Hoochie Coochie Mann. They come here to honor those voices of past bluesmen who speak through Guy. He continues to tell the tales and lessons that were instilled in him. This is a place where tradition is deeply rooted in socio-economic disparities can live on. It serves as a reminder of just how far music has come.
On the north wall of the bar is “Mount BLuesmore”, a painted mural of four famous blues musicians painted by Dan Bellini: Little Walter, Sonny Boy Williamson, Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters. There are paintings of Stevie Ray Vaughn, pictures of a younger Buddy with old friends. With eah guitar suspended over the bar and throughout the club signed by various artists, there is a story waiting to be told. It is all one big oral tradition.
As a door guy I have heard Guy tell some of these tories to fans while sitting under the guitar shaped framed photo of Stevie Rey Vaughn while sipping on a Heineken over ice. Through my role at the club I guess I can’t help but to have the same look of admiration and excitement as the other. But it also gives me pride to know that I am a part of the preservation of a musical genre that paved the way for others. I have worked here over a year and like every other job sometimes you loose focus about why you are there, but it all gets put back into perspective the minutes someone asks, “You must love your job?” I usually nod and grin.
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