Farewell Hubert Sumlin and Howard Tate

They both spread a particular kind of joy that was totally unique to them, and they were both lucky to find they were appreciated late in their lives

Hubert Sumlin, 1964

By Peter Stone Brown

It was sometime in 1975, and my friend Richard and I were leaving our job which happened to be in a record store when Richard said, “Let’s go see Howlin’ Wolf.” I was somewhat reluctant at first because various people had told me Wolf’s show was a comedy act with him sweeping the stage with a broom. Richard said, “Are you crazy? It’s Howlin’ Wolf.” It turned out to be a good thing I listened to Richard because it turned out to me one of the most memorable musical nights of my life, one that’s still embedded in my mind.

Howlin’ Wolf rarely played Philly, and by the time he did, he wasn’t that old especially by today’s terms, but he was quite obviously very sick. It didn’t make a damn bit of difference. He was Howlin’ Wolf. His band, Eddie Shaw & the Wolf Gang, preceded him onstage. Finally he emerged, wearing a baby blue windbreaker, with some kind of medical something on his arm that looked it hooked up to an I.V. He sat down, started playing his …