PAPA JOHN CREACH
1917 - 1994
The Official Home Page
Papa John's Gone
Blues
copyright 1994 by Joey Covington
Papa
John Creach and I said goodbye on a cloudy afternoon in February, 1994 at
Midway Hospital in L.A. The famous fiddler and very special friend
was unable to speak, so we just held hands and gazed at each other. The
two of us had taken care of alot of business, been down alot of roads together
and knew each other as well as any two men could ever really know each other.
When that knowing look flashed between our eyes, I knew it was the
last time I would ever see Papa John
Creach. Go in peace my friend. We kept our bargain: whoever
got there first would call the other and we didn't let
each other down.
The tears came
but it was cool. I turned my head. I knew that's the way Pops
would have wanted it to be....Cool.
Two
days later, at exactly 4:26 am on the 22nd, the call I'd been expecting finally
did come. My mind blank, the nurses voice was calm, almost soothing
as she said, "Joey, I'm so sorry. Papa's gone." The finality of
those words instantly sent my mind into flashbacks of memories, and I smiled
thinking of all the good times Pops and I spent together.
It all started
in 1967. I had arrived in beautiful California, where a young dreamer
could still go west to a land of sunshine, surf, and tanned beauties. It
was a place where amazing music and new ideas were endless.
As
I stood in front of the chalkboard at the LA Musicians Local 47, gazing at
the listing of available gigs and musicians looking for work, I became aware
of a very powerful presence standing beside me. I glanced over at what
appeared to be a very thin, egyptian looking man with light brown skin. He
was also studying the chalkboard. I struck up a conversation where
I introduced myself and said I was from Johnstown, Pennsylvania. He
said his name was John Henry Creach and that he was from Beaver Falls. It
was amazing that there were only two guys in the place, and they were both
from Pennsylvania. We shook hands, and to this day I'll never forget
that handshake: smooth palms like the underbelly of a brand new puppy,
long sinewy fingers so gentle, curious and firm...yet without the macho ego.
I asked him what he did, and he replied, "I saw wood." "You saw
who?" I asked, and with that great grin of his and that twinkle in those
eyes, he nonchalantly said, "I play fiddle." He knew then and there
that he had this skinny kid drummer from Pennsylvania in the palm of his
hand. "Cool guy," I thought to myself. Then out of nowhere he
asked, "What you got in mind?" I told him I lived in Laurel Canyon
and that I was putting a band together. We exchanged numbers and as
we started to walk in different directions I called out, "Hey old man! Can
I call you Papa?" He turned to me, looked me over, grinned and said,
"No problem!" I knew then and there I had found a friend for
life.
In my 38 years
as a singing drummer, songwriter, and performer, I have been fortunate to
have met and performed with a great many artists, but as in most walks of
life, it is a rare occurence when you meet someone you can truly call a
gentleman.
Papa
John Creach epitomized what a true gentleman was, in every sense of the word.
Not only in his professional life, but also in his personal and private
life. He was the peace and calm in the eye of the hurricane. His
fiddle playing brought joy and a sense of well being to a very turbulent
world. To anyone who ever met him or saw him perform, there was always
a certain feeling of ease: that everything's OK. People always
left the clubs and concert halls with their spirits in a much higher
place.
I find it very
hard to believe that those long graceful hands will never raise another bow,
pluck a little funk, play that haunting and tear-jerking version of "Somewhere
Over the Rainbow", or give life to all the janitors or working class people
who drive a cadillac.
Yes
my friends and those who loved Papa John: the world has given up another
rare bird of wonderful proportion. Those of us still here have lost
something special... We will never see the likes of another Papa John
Creach in this life time. But we have all been blessed to have had
him for the time that we did so we could enjoy his music.
Papa, if you can
hear me, know that you have made us all proud to have been your friends and
fans. Until we meet again, keep "sawing wood", for without it, the
fire glows dimly.
Your Friend,
Joey Covington, musician
Mail
Room for friends and
fans
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since 6/6/98
