Christy The Writer

His name is Sterling Magee.

Ring a bell? It didn’t with me.

At first glance, he is merely an old man, another white-haired, quiet-smiled resident of a nursing home where he watches television, chats with his neighbors, and sleeps with a button nearby that he can use to summon help if his aging body should suddenly decide to betray him in one way or another.

Although he is friendly and chatty, he doesn’t brag. If he did, people who work at that nursing home in Gulfport, Florida would have known who he was long ago. As it happened, no one did until the day there was live music at the nursing home and someone noticed Sterling tapping his feet. Sure, a lot of people tap their feet when they’re listening to music, but this was different. There was a rhythm to Sterling’s movements. He was connecting with the music in a way that only a musician could.

Later someone handed him a guitar to see what he would do. As that old man started to play, everyone stopped and stared. He was good. In fact, he was damned good.

That’s when they started asking questions and found out who he really is. Turns out Mr. Magee, that sweet old man who lives in the nursing home, is in the Blues Hall of Fame. He played at the Apollo backing up people like Etta James and James Brown. He’s played with George Benson. His is the guitar you hear in the rock and roll classic “Yakety Yak.” Nicknamed “Mr. Satan,” he teamed up with a young harmonica player named Adam Gussow and they played together as Satan and Adam. They traveled the world as an opening act for Bo Diddley. They have a cut on U’s 1988 documentary, “Rattle and Hum.”

I heard this story on a recent trip to Florida, just a couple of hours before an event in which Sterling was scheduled to play. I was talking with some friends later when I heard the music start. I turned toward the stage area and there he was. Front and center, sitting on a low stool in front of a band of local musicians, guitar on his knee, sneakered feet tapping. The minute he began to sing, I knew he was the real thing.

I was completely spellbound as I moved away from the group of people I was with and made my way to the area in front of the stage. I found an empty chair and sat down, immediately finding my own feet tapping. Hey, you try sitting in front of a master bluesman and see if you can stay still. I seriously doubt you can.

Sterling looked up, caught my eye and grinned at me. I smiled back. I was in love. His energy belied his age. He sang for two hours, only taking a couple of short breaks. As the band put their instruments down for their second break, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I approached the stage and looked at up Sterling Magee.

“Mr. Magee, would you mind if I had my picture taken with you?” I was unaccountably nervous, considering I’d been a huge fan of his for, oh, about two hours.

“Young lady, if you help me down off this stage you can take all the pictures you want,” he said.

I took his arm and guided him down the three steps to the pavement. I handed my camera to one of his band members and Sterling put his arm around me. The camera whirred and we were done. I smiled and thanked him.

I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell him that I’m glad someone took the time to find out his history. I’m glad he wasn’t just left to deteriorate in a nursing home, his music still inside him.

I wonder how many Sterling Magees are out there, their stories forgotten, their voices unheard. I, for one, am going to start listening.