I was a fan of this legendary New Orleans artist from his breakout albums ‘Gris Gris’ in 1968. I likely was turned onto it by a guy I came to identify as my chosen older brother. He preceded me in birth by four critical years. When he turned me on to music or a writer it was a sure thing I would go deep on it. The mystical, other worldly aspects of Dr. John’s music set him apart from everyone else of that era. Born Malcolm John Rebbenack Jr. in New Orleans in 1941 he came across “Professor Longhair” at the precious age of 13 and cultivated a similar bent for voodoo theatrics and powers in his music and stage act. His father ran an appliance shop in New Orleans East end, fixing radios and selling records. Probably a critical aspect of Dr. John’s musical path. He had a few run ins with the law spending over a year in jail. Though a guitarist at first, he switched to keyboards after being shot in Jacksonville with the bullet crushing his ring finger.
The way I met him was at a charity dinner I did with Charlie (Trotter) and Emeril (Lagasse) in Montecito, California. The home we cooked in was … let’s call it spacious. 75 guests fit easily in the main dining room. The pantry was as large as many well to do people’s entire kitchens. The garden out the side door a chef’s dream. To our surprise the owners had booked Dr. John as the musical guest for the evening! While the three of us prepped that morning and afternoon Dr. John’s roadies set up his piano out on the tennis courts. Emeril regaled Charlie and I with some stories that were part of the New Orleans legends and Dr. John’s place within them. We finally put out the meal, took bird baths, stashed our knives, and sat on lawn chairs under a perfect California sky. I thought to myself … maybe this life of cooking has magical access no one would have thought to intimate to me when I was flipping eggs and dunking fries in that diner back in Illinois that was my first job.
© 2024 Norman Van Aken