The Golden Grail - found! Gambler's Blues (aka St. James Infirmary), the first sheet music

 Ahhhh.

I had been looking for this sheet music for years. Dare I say, for over a decade?! It escaped me. It was as if it did not exist. I mean, I found evidence that it was locked in the archives of the New York State judicial library, as evidence in a 1930s lawsuit. But it was rare as the Dickens and I could never find the actual thing.

But eventually I did.

I found it on eBay. The starting price was ninety-nine cents (plus postage), and there were two weeks left in the bidding. "Oh dear," I thought, "this is such an important historical document, one that has eluded me for a decade, and I am sure many people will be bidding for this, waiting for the last possible moment before entering a bid. There is no chance that, with my meager resources, I shall be able to actually get my hands on this item." But, as you can see, I did win it.

For ninety-nine cents (plus postage).

What an odd thing!! This was something of considerable historical importance. And I was the only one to enter a bid. Nobody else in the world cared. It was my golden grail. Nobody else cared. There were no other bids. And so I now possess a great historical document at a cost of ninety-nine cents (plus postage).

I must be deluded. I had been pursuing this story, this history of "St. James Infirmary," for a very long time. One of the critical links in the saga of this song appeared for sale, and . . . well . . . it sold for ninety-nine cents.

I shall have to ponder this.

Maybe history depends upon who writes the story.

The year on this music sheet is 1925. It was published by Phil Baxter in Little Rock, Arkansas. My earlier research had informed me that "Harry D. Squires, Inc." was the original publisher of this song, and that Squires was the person who convinced Fess Williams to record it (the first recorded version). So it is likely that Baxter released this edition of the sheet music before finding a bona fide publisher. Also, I had noted that Baxter and Moore neglected to copyright the song (thereby leaving the way open for "Joe Primrose" to take ownership of it). But "International Copyright Secured" is printed on these pages. I had found no evidence of this when I contacted the U.S. copyright offices, so I am not sure what this means.

The 1925 sheet music with lyrics can be found here - the pages should expand when you click on them. I leave it to you to compare this music with the second oldest publication of this song in Carl Sandburg's "American Songbag," published in 1927. Whatever this comparison tells you, it will be clear that neither Phil Baxter nor Carl Moore nor Joe Primrose nor anybody else, wrote "St. James Infirmary."

Again, here is the sheet music for Baxter/Moore’s “Gambler’s Blues.”

Maria Muldaur, Harry Belafonte, Victoria Spivey, Carolyn Hester, Porter Grainger, Bob Dylan, etc.... Links in a chain

Well, it seems I'm on a Porter Grainger (or maybe a Bob Dylan) run.

So ... here's the latest. 

In March, 1962, about the same time his first album was released, Bob Dylan served as a backup musician, playing harmonica, for an album featuring blues legends Victoria Spivey (b. 1906), Big Joe Williams (b. 1903), Roosevelt Sykes (b. 1906), and Lonnie Johnson (b. 1899). The album was titled Three Kings and a Queen. Young guy, aging legends; Dylan fit right in.

1962 was a busy year for Dylan the session player. He was twenty years old, and had already served as harmonica backup for Harry Belafonte on Belafonte's 1962 release of "Midnight Special."

Harry Belafonte (Dylan, 20 yrs old, on harmonica) "Midnight Special" 1962. 

He had also played harp for three songs on Carolyn Hester's self-titled third album. On the one below, Hester's interpretation of Walter Davis' (1911-1963) "Come Back Baby," Dylan's harmonica has a subdued subterranean pulse. But at around 1:50 he holds a note for twenty seconds before modulating. This young man was a creative, well-practiced instrumentalist, sensitive to the nuances of a song, sensitive to how he contributed to the whole.


Carolyn Hester, "Come Back Baby," 1961.

So, back to Porter Grainger.

The back cover of Dylan's New Morning CD features a photograph of him (standing with a guitar) beside Spivey (sitting at a piano). Spivey had often recorded with Porter Grainger accompanying on piano and occasionally backup vocals. They wrote songs together. In 1937 she recorded Porter Grainger's "One Hour Mama."

Victoria Spivey "One Hour Mama" 1937

Written by Grainger, this is a woman talking about sex. Porter Grainger was extraordinary in this way; he had an ability to emulate another's point of view. 

I've always heard that haste makes waste
So I believe in takin' my time
The highest mountain can't be raced
It's something you must slowly climb

I want a slow and easy man
He needn't ever take the lead
'Cause I work on that long-time plan
And I ain't a-lookin' for no speed

Etc.

Grainger did this again and again. He could grasp a female point of view and make it universal (from  "Sing Sing Prison Blues," written for Bessie Smith: "Judge, you ain't no woman / And you can't understand"). He could take the perspective of a slave, and make you feel it (from "Song From A Cotton Field:" "All my life I been makin' it / All my life white folks takin' it ' / This ol' heart they jus' breakin' it...") He could communicate pride (with maybe a touch of cynicism) in black engagements in war (1919's "When Our Brown Skin' Soldier Boys Come Home From War" ... can you recall any other WW1 patriotic song with black Americans as the focus?). 

He often wrote in a cabaret style popular in the '20s, but he could could take on the blues (music, rhythm, lyric), he could take on spirituals, he could take on popular music.

Porter Grainger has been forgotten.

How do we forget the composer of "Dyin' Crapshooter's Blues" and "Tain't Nobody's Business If I Do?" How do we dismiss almost everything else he wrote? (Until I wrote I Went Down to St. James Infirmary, it was assumed that Blind Willie McTell wrote "Dyin' Crapshooter's Blues.")

2025.
Maria Muldaur, possibly first coming to public awareness as a member of the early 1960s Even Dozen Jazz Band, interprets songs as if she was living the lyric - this is a signal of a great singer, as it is of a great actor. Her contributions to the Americana canon are exemplary.

She released an album of Victoria Spivey songs in 2025. The title song is Porter Grainger's "One Hour Mama." Muldaur reaches deeply into formative blues throughout the album, her vocals are evocative, drawing out the nuance of the lyric, and the instrumental underpinnings could not be more sympathetic. It's also a whole lot of fun!

Maria Muldaur "One Hour Mama" 2025

So thank you, Maria Muldaur, from both me and, I am sure, Porter Grainger. (Spivey would have loved this!!)

You can find more selections from Three Kings and the Queen on-line. The LP was originally released on Spivey Records, co-founded by Victoria Spivey and jazz historian Len Kunstadt. Spivey died in 1976, and the label ceased production after Kunstadt's death twenty years later. Occasionally reports emerge that the music has been re-engineered, and the label is about to be revived, but nothing materializes. Used copies can be found via sites like Discogs.

Rick Beato on copyright claims

Rick Beato on faux copyright claims.

Quite by accident, my research into the long history of the song "St. James Infirmary," has become entangled with copyright.

Essentially, copyright is meant to reward the creator "for a limited time" before returning the creation to the commons, where others can use it for building the future. That is, nothing (songs, sewing machines ...) is created out of nothing - we all depend upon what went before. And we all build upon the past. There is no unique creation. But ...
Corporations want to protect what brings them money. And so, successfully, they have pressured governments to lengthen copyright restrictions.The more lengthy and restrictive the copyright laws become, the more impoverished do we all become as creators, or even just as listeners/viewers/readers ...
This contemporary notion of monetization has become an infectious illness.
Thanks, Rick, for your post!