DeFord Bailey

DeFord Bailey was born on December 14, 1899 in Smith County, Tennessee, about forty miles east of downtown Nashville. DeFord's mother, Mary Reedy, named him after two of her former schoolteachers, Mr. DeBerry and Mrs. Ford. When he was a little over a year old, his mother died of an unknown illness. DeFord's father, John Henry, had a younger sister named Barbara Lou who helped care for DeFord. Gradually, she took over complete care of DeFord and became his foster mother. Barbara Lou gave DeFord his first harmonica (or mouth harp).

"My folks didn't give me no rattler, they gave me a harp, and I ain't been without one since."

At the age of three, DeFord contracted infantile paralysis (polio). At the time, the disease was almost always fatal. He was confined to bed for a year and was only able to move his head and his arms. It was at this time that he started to develop his playing style. He would lie in bed and listen to the sounds of dogs howling, of wild geese flying overhead, of the wind blowing through cracks in the wall, and most importantly, of trains rumbling in the distance. Eventually he recovered, although the disease severely stunted his growth and left him with a slight hunchback.

Music continued to be a large part of DeFord's upbringing in Smith County. Most members of his family played instruments and his grandfather, Lewis Bailey, was a champion fiddler. The tunes they played were part of a rich tradition of string band music, a style DeFord called black hillbilly music.

[My family] "could all sing and dance. Everyone could play at least one instrument."

Moving to Nashville

In 1918, DeFord's biological father died and DeFord left rural middle Tennessee and joined Barbara Lou and his foster father, Clark Odum, in Nashville. His foster parents were working for Mr. and Mrs. J.C. Bradford, one of Nashville's prominent families, and Clark arranged for DeFord to become a houseboy. At first, DeFord's work included running errands, helping set the table, and cleaning and polishing silver, but when Mrs. Bradford learned of DeFord's musical talent, his role changed.

"One day I was in the yard and she heard me playing. She said, 'I didn't know you could play like that. How long have you been playing?' I told her, 'all my life,' From then on she had me stand in the corner of the room and play my harp for her company. I'd wear a white coat, black leather tie, and white hat. I'd have a good shoeshine. That all suits me. That's my make-up. I never did no more good work. My work was playing the harp."

In 1923, DeFord's foster mother, Barbara Lou, died. The entire family was devastated, especially DeFord. With her death, the family began to drift apart. DeFord's foster father moved to Detroit, where thousands of other southerners, black and white, were going to make their way in the new Henry Ford automobile industry, while DeFord stayed in Nashville and worked a number of odd jobs for several years.

During one of DeFord's jobs as an elevator operator in the Hitchcock building in downtown Nashville, a secretary from the National Life and Accident Insurance Company heard him play the harmonica. She hired him to entertain at a formal dinner at the company's new building. He thought little of it at the time, but later when he looked back, he realized that it was an odd foreshadowing of things to come.

On October 5, 1925, a new broadcast station, WSM, went on the air. The station, which was created by the National Life and Accident Insurance Company, was interested in presenting a first-class image so it hired George D. Hay, one of America's most popular announcers. Hay (who was nicknamed Judge Hay) had a fondness for folk music and had started a variety program known as "The National Barn Dance" while working at WLS in Chicago. Shortly after he arrived in Nashville, Hay aired a similar program with a local champion fiddler named Uncle Jimmy Thompson. The show received a huge response. On December 27, 1925, WSM and Judge Hay sent out a press release announcing that WSM would begin a regular broadcast of an hour or two of old familiar tunes — a show that became known as "The Barn Dance," and later the "Grand Ole Opry."

Nashville was home to another radio station that started in the fall of 1925. WDAD went on the air a few months earlier than WSM and was operated by a local radio supply store called Dad's. Pop Exum, the manager of the store and one of DeFord's biggest fans, made DeFord a regular on WDAD. Pop had met DeFord at an auto accessory store that he had managed prior to Dad's and where DeFord would come to buy auto parts for his bicycle. Another one of Dad's regulars was Dr. Humphrey Bate, a country doctor who also played the harmonica. Dr. Bate's band, later called the Possum Hunters, played on both WDAD and WSM. When Dr. Bates heard DeFord play, he insisted that DeFord join him on WSM's new Saturday night "Barn Dance" program. One night, DeFord agreed to come and played on that evening's show without an audition. The show's announcer, Judge Hay, liked DeFord so much he asked him to perform regularly from that point forward

Throughout 1926, DeFord was a regular on the weekly show. Judge Hay, who liked to find colorful nicknames for all of his performers, dubbed DeFord "The Harmonica Wizard." In fact, the Harmonica Wizard's music inspired the show's famous name--the Grand Ole Opry.

In December of 1927, an NBC national opera show that preceded the weekly "Barn Dance" signed off playing a classical piece imitating a locomotive. Judge Hay, not above a sarcastic remark, and looking for a clever transition to the local acts on WSM, introduced DeFord Bailey and his train song "Pan American Blues." After DeFord performed, Judge Hay said: "For the past hour, we have been listening to music largely from Grand Opera, but from now on, we will present "The Grand Ole Opry."

By 1928, DeFord had settled into a weekly routine with the Opry, appearing twice as often as any other performer. In early Opry years, the show embraced all types of indigenous music and made no attempts to limit itself to an all white audience. In fact, efforts were made to attract a "colored" audience. The Opry and all other WSM shows were designed to sell National Life insurance. A large portion of National Life's business consisted of small policies popular with both white and black low-income customers. Judge Hay told DeFord that "half of National Life's money comes from colored people and that DeFord had helped make those sales."

Over the years, however, the Opry became more identified with music of the rural white south. The cast of the show was all white, with the exception of DeFord. Occasionally other black performers, including the Fisk Jubilees Singers and the Carthage Quartet, were featured on the show, but DeFord was the only one of any long-term duration. The combination of his musical skills and his diminutive, non-threatening physical appearance may have opened doors for him that were closed for others of his race.

In November of 1928, DeFord was recruited by WNOX, a smaller station in Knoxville, Tennessee. Unhappy with his salary and the paternalistic treatment at WSM, he left Nashville briefly. He returned to Nashville in 1929 and reunited with the Grand Ole Opry. He was able to negotiate a better salary. A few months later he met and married Ida Lee Jones.

In the coming years, DeFord and Ida Lee would have three children. DeFord would continue to make his living at the Opry as a professional musician, but during the Depression, he looked for ways to supplement his Opry salary. Around 1930 he opened a barbeque stand and a shoeshine stand, and he also became a landlord, routinely renting out rooms in his house. Even with this additional income, he still needed more money. One of the only ways country musicians made significant money was to go on personal appearance tours. These tours would prove to be his biggest triumphs and trials.

DeFord was known only as a radio star on the Grand Ole Opry and most of the audience did not know he was a "colored man." His race may have been known in the black community, but it was not mentioned on air. This was not accidental. Judge Hay believed Opry fans would "blow us out" if DeFord's race was publicized. His concern proved wrong.

In early 1933, WSM organized the Artists' Service Bureau, a booking agency designed to promote personal appearances for the WSM stars. By this time DeFord was one of the most popular musicians on the Opry. Surprisingly, when his race became apparent on tour, it seemed to make little difference to audiences.

"Uncle Dave Macon was the Opry's favorite performer, and I was the second."

Roy Acuff recalled that DeFord would always draw a crowd when out on the road. All of the major acts took DeFord with them to guarantee a larger audience.

"DeFord was loved all over the South,"

- Vito Pellettieri, Grand Ole Opry Stage Manager

Legal restrictions and social norms of the time made socializing with his white associates or fans next to impossible. He wasn't allowed to eat or sleep in the same places. They often had to find him special accommodations in the black section of town. Sometimes he had to sleep in the car if they couldn't find a safe place for him to stay. When eating meals, he usually had to eat in the kitchen of a restaurant or in the car.

DeFord was the only African American in his day to perform regularly and on an equal basis with white performers, and before white audiences, in Dixie and elsewhere.

In the spring of 1941, DeFord was about to begin his sixteenth season with the Grand Ole Opry. The NBC network had been broadcasting the show for about a year and a half, and the Opry was changing, becoming more slick and professional. DeFord appeared only on a handful of the network broadcasts. The slick new "uptown" acts that had arrived in the mid-1930's appeared on that portion of the show, while the old-timers played on the non-network portion.

Also affecting DeFord's appearances on the show was a licensing issue with ASCAP (the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers), which required venues to pay fees for the use of copyrighted music. ASCAP's contract with radio was coming up for renewal in 1940, and in the process ASCAP was attempting to double its usage fees. Radio networks were furious and were trying to boycott all songs copyrighted by ASCAP. DeFord was hit hard by the ban because most of his repertoire was copyrighted by ASCAP.

To counter the loss of ASCAP material, radio broadcasters, including those responsible for the Opry, created a new organization called BMI (Broadcast Music Incorporated) and began creating a catalog of music designed primarily for radio. Besides countering ASCAP, another reason the Opry may have been insistent on creating and licensing new songs to BMI was because one of the original six hundred stockholders in BMI was WSM's Edwin Craig. He made it clear that performers on his station were expected to do their part by creating new songs that could be copyrighted and licensed through BMI.

Hurt, puzzled, and offended by the Opry's insistence that he now create new material, DeFord continued to perform his old tunes. By the end of July, the boycott was over and NBC signed an agreement with ASCAP. Things returned to the way they were, with one exception. After May 24, 1941, DeFord's name no longer appeared on the show's line-up. He had been let go.

The firing of DeFord Bailey is one of the most controversial aspects of Opry history. Judge Hay offered his own explanation in his book A Story of the Grand Ole Opry: (1946)

"That brings us to DeFord Bailey, a little crippled colored boy who was a bright feature of our show for about fifteen years. Like some members of his race and other races, DeFord was lazy. He knew about a dozen numbers, which he put on the air and recorded for a major company, but he refused to learn any more, even though his reward was great. He was our mascot and is still loved by the entire company. We gave him a whole year's notice to learn some more tunes, but he would not. When we were forced to give him his final notice, DeFord said, without malice, ‘I knowed it waz comin', Judge, I knowed it waz comin'.’"

- Judge Hay

DeFord's remembrance of the events was very different. While he strongly disagreed with Hay's explanation, he didn't blame Hay for being fired.

"He had a boss too. It was the company. It's terrible for a company to say things like that about me. That I didn't know no songs. I read between the lines. They seen the day was coming when they'd have to pay me right … and they used the excuse about me playing the same old tunes."

This charge was unfounded and it didn't seem to apply to other Opry members. DeFord played a certain body of work mainly because, for years, the Opry management insisted that he play those tunes. DeFord remembered:

"I told them I got tired of blowing that same thing, but I had to go along with 'em you know. Gene Austin played on Saturday night when I was there. Played 'Blue Heaven' on his guitar. Well, I come back next week and had that down on my harp. They said, "No. Naw, don't play that. That's their song. You play blues like you've been playing."

Alcyone Bate Beasley, the daughter of DeFord's first mentor, Dr. Humphrey Bate, once said,

"On today's Opry, and on the Opry for generations, most performers do exactly what DeFord was let go for. They play the tunes they are best known for. Who can imagine Roy Acuff on the Opry not playing either 'Wabash Cannonball' or 'Great Speckled Bird.'"

- Alcyone Bate Beasley

DeFord's departure from the Opry has never made sense to anyone familiar with the Opry history. Musicologist and foremost Opry historian Charles Wolfe said,

" It is essentially a mystery and
one of the great tragedies in American music."

- Charles Wolfe

Once he left the Opry, DeFord took up shining shoes full time. The experience was traumatic but it was also a watershed in his life.

"I could make it on my own. I walked out of WSM with a smile. I told myself, ‘God gave every man five senses and I'm going to use them. I ain't gonna work for another man as long as I live.’ I'd work for myself."

His first shop was in the back room of his house on 13th Avenue South, just a few blocks from the Ryman stage, where the Opry continued to play every Saturday night for years to come. Because of his radio fame, white customers would seek him out, no matter where his shop was located. He welcomed them on an equal basis with his black customers, all sitting side by side and waiting their turns.

DeFord said a white barber once asked him how he could mix races up in his shoeshine shop. He said,

"They all know me and all
want to hear the same tune."

Soon DeFord had more business than he could handle. He moved his shop several times and had an elaborate setup, including nine chairs and as many employees on 12th Avenue South. The only sign he had outside his shop simply displayed the price of a shoeshine, but his customers could always find him.

DeFord rarely made public appearances after he left the Opry. He played for family, friends, and customers, but turned down many offers, including a lucrative offer to play in a Burt Reynolds film. He chose not to perform professionally because he was wary of being cheated or used for someone else's gain.

By the 1960's, the Nashville music scene was exploding. Most of the Opry cast that was known to DeFord was fading away. Another type of music was emerging and DeFord would play a small part in its birth. Soul music almost made Nashville a major black music center. In the 1940's, WSM rival WLAC had become a nationwide forum for rhythm and blues records and in the 1950's, Nashville had a number of independent record companies featuring black music. Along Jefferson Street, clubs rang with the new sound and DeFord's son, DeFord Junior, became involved in this new music scene.

DeFord Junior often appeared on "Night Train," a syndicated television show that featured local soul music. While working on the show, DeFord Junior played with another young guitarist who would shortly leave Nashville for the west coast. His name was Jimi Hendrix. Hendrix was close to the Bailey family, often eating and visiting with DeFord Senior at family get-togethers.

In the last decade of his life, DeFord was befriended by David Morton, a Vanderbilt graduate history student and public housing employee. Morton developed a strong friendship with DeFord and eventually recorded the only publicly available renditions of his classic tunes. DeFord also asked Morton to write his biography.

"I want you to tell the world about this black man. He ain't no fool. Just let people know what I am … I take the bitter with the sweet. Every day is Sunday with me. I'm happy go lucky. Amen! "

Morton convinced DeFord to return to the Opry stage four times before he died. Though he never made the spectacular comeback that Morton envisioned, DeFord was satisfied with his accomplishments, realizing at last his pre-eminence in the field.

"I'm an old man now. But they never will get out of a harp what I can. They're just wasting their time trying to beat me on a harp. Ain't nobody ever beat me down with no harp. Trying to beat me blowing is like trying to outrun a Greyhound bus! I got notes harder than Mohammed Ali can throw."