In 1927, the small town of Hinton, WV, was far from any center of American musical commerce. New York had its Tin Pan Alley, Hollywood was the hub of the talking film business, and there were scenes in New Orleans and Chicago. But no center for the span of rural music that came to be called country, folk and blues. This music was certainly selling though. Vernon Dalhart’s disc of “The Prisoner’s Song” backed with “The Wreck of the Old 97,” released in 1925, had sold a million copies for the Victor Talking Machine Company and eventually went on to sell more than seven million.

Seeing a lucrative market that was relatively untapped, Victor sent pioneering A&R man Ralph Peer to travel the south in search of talent. Peer, who had already recorded Fiddling John Carson’s surprise hit “Little Log Cabin In The Lane,” also saw dollar signs. He cut a new deal with Victor: he’d find and record the talent for free; in return, he would retain the publisher’s share of any new copyrights he recorded. Ernest “Pop” Stoneman, another of Peer’s early sellers, suggested Peer call on Blind Alfred Reed, whose song about a recent train accident, “The Wreck Of The Virginian,” was getting regional attention without benefit of a recording or a touring act. So, when Peer made plans to solicit musicians for a recording session in Bristol, on the Tennessee and Virginia border, he sent a telegram to Reed in Hinton to accompany him. In those days, a physical handicap was a terribly limiting factor. The blind either begged or relied on their family’s benevolence, but those with some musical ability found a way to support themselves. Alfred Reed, born blind on June 15, 1880, in Floyd, VA, was one of the lucky few who was able to scrape a living from playing at local dances, churches and on the streets of his hometown. He gave music lessons and sold copies of his lyrics, printed by the Princeton newspaper presses, for 10 cents each, doing all he could to provide for his wife and six children. In 1927, an opportunity to engage in the new record business must have seemed too good to pass up. Arville, his son and usual accompanist, was off working on the railroad, so Alfred drafted another local musician, Arthur Wyrick, to drive him over the ridges to Bristol.

On July 28, 1927, Reed, alone with just voice and fiddle, recorded “The Wreck Of The Virginian” in Peer’s makeshift studio - set up inside a former furniture store at 408 East State Street. Adding Wyrick on guitar, he followed with “I Mean To Live For Jesus,” “You Must Unload” and “Walking In The Way With Jesus.” Peer made several other finds that week in Bristol, most notably the Carter Family and “Blue Yodeler” Jimmy Rogers.

Sessions in Camden, NJ (Dec. 19, 1927) and New York City (Dec. 3, 1929) followed, with Reed now accompanied by his son Arville on guitar. Victor eventually released a total of 21 masters including “Telephone Girl” (credited to “Orville Reed” - a misspelling of Arville) and “The Old-Fashioned Cottage,” credited to “Alfred and Orville Reed.” For several years, Alfred Reed made steady mail box money from his royalties both as the artist and as the songwriter, and of course Ralph Peer made commensurate publishing money. But as the Great Depression took hold of America, record production decreased, and Blind Alfred Reed never returned to the studio.

Some of that era’s recording artists had enough sales and other work to hold on as professional musicians through the 1930s. The Carter Family’s discs sold very well and they continued to record and develop their sound, and of course Jimmy Rogers was Peer’s cash 1933. Black harmonica ace Deford Bailey, who recorded for Victor in Nashville in 1928, sailed through the tough times as a star of the early Grand Ole Opry. But for Blind Alfred, things leveled off and, like so many early recording artists, he had to rely on the few local venues for work. He may have been well appreciated in his home area, but probably due to his handicap, Reed didn’t travel to develop new audiences. By 1937, local ordinances prohibited him from even playing on the streets.

By the 1950s, the recordings had been unavailable for more than 20 years, and royalties dwindled to a trickle. Reed kept composing in the evenings, writing the lyrics out in braille, and he took care to renew his copyrights in 1955, but he died on January 17 of the following year at the age of 76. The Peer Corporation immediately contacted the family, advising them to sell the rights, which they did. Arville joined the service and then worked in a brick plant in Princeton, abandoning his guitar.

He and his father’s music were all but forgotten until the interest that was sparked by the folk revival of the 1960s. In 1971, the replanted seeds of the revival bore some fruit: Ry Cooder included a version of “How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times And Live” on his first Warner Brothers release, and Rounder Records, a burgeoning roots record label in Massachusetts (which was, in part, inspired by WV’s “Kanawha Records” label), released a set of 14 of the original masters. To this day, his music is mostly unknown outside the inner circles of musical historians and old time music fans. Blind Alfred Reed lies in a grave - only recently marked - in Elgood, WV, in Mercer County. Ironically, most of the participants in this tribute were unaware of the man and his music until asked to participate. —Tim O’Brien  

OFFICIAL ARTIST SITE: www.wvmusichalloffame.com

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