A few weeks ago Little Beaver agreed to let me take some photos of him for this site. This was our second meeting.
During our first meeting back in December, when I asked if I could invite my friend Joe to photograph our interview, he refused. Next time, he promised.
So when he agreed, he was simply honoring his word.
I headed to his home in Opa-locka on a Friday afternoon in January with my wife’s Canon EOS Digital Rebel XT, a swivel desk lamp with a 60 watt light bulb, and an extension cord.
In his living room I set up the lamp on his coffee table, connected it to a nearby socket, and swivel-aimed the light towards him while he sat down on his bar stool.
Do you want me to wear my Little Beaver glasses?
Before I could say yes, he was already reaching for a pair of shades folded on top of the bar.
And so began the first-ever Long Play Miami photo shoot.
I then asked him if he could get his guitar.
You mean, Katie Pearl?
I thought you’d want me to.
I’ll be right back.
Little Beaver strummed the guitar for a bit. And then, the strumming flowed into a familiar tune as he began playing his famous guitar track from the 1971 Betty Wright classic, Clean Up Woman.
After he put away his guitar, I sat down on the couch and we talked for awhile, about mundane things like the weather (“I was a little nippy this morning… 39 degrees.”) to far less mundane things like whether he’d ever play in public again (“You know, when you don’t play, you get rusty…”).
Then he remembered something he wanted to show me. He left the room for a minute and returned with a photograph that was mailed to him by his friend Lawrence Watson from Forrest City, Arkansas, where he grew up.
I was maybe 15-16 yrs old.
[That was] Some juke… some little hole in the wall. See the snare drum sitting on the chair?
We were ‘wood-sheddin.’
(That’s Watson on the far left with the bass guitar and of course, that’s Beaver – with the shades.)
As the daylight began to fade, I asked if I could take a couple of photos of him outside. This idea didn’t seem to sit well. There was a moment of hesitation in the way he remained on the bar stool.
But then he just said yes and we walked out the front door.
In the late afternoon sun, Little Beaver stood in the space between the corner of the façade and a half-shuttered window. Occasionally he’d look to either side of him. He wanted to make sure none of the neighbors were watching.
Because, as he has told me before,…
Willie “Little Beaver” Hale doesn’t like ‘all that fuss.’
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