Huddie Ledbetter, better known as Lead Belly, has influenced generations of folk and rock performers, gifting the world an archive of timeless hits including “Goodnight, Irene,” “The Rock Island Line,” “The Midnight Special,” and “In the Pines.” But in March 1935, his future career was still very much in doubt, as he and folklorist John A. Lomax arrived in Albany, New York, scheduled to perform at Page Hall on the campus of what was then the New York State College for Teachers.

The men first became acquainted in the summer of 1933. Lomax, a 65-year-old white Texan, was reviving his career as a folklorist after losing his banking job to the Great Depression. Accompanied by his teenaged son, Alan, he was traveling through the South recording material, including “Negro folk songs,” on behalf of the Library of Congress. At the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola, they were introduced to 44-year-old prisoner Huddie Ledbetter, “called by his companions Lead Belly,” Lomax wrote. Ledbetter, a Black musician raised in Texas, “was unique in knowing a very large number tunes, all of which he sang effectively while he twanged his twelve-string guitar.”

The following summer, the Lomaxes returned to Angola, and Ledbetter recorded a version of a petition that he had written and performed while incarcerated in Texas. In Texas, the song had won him a pardon, but no pardon was needed in Louisiana. On August 1, 1934, a month after the Lomaxes’ visit, Ledbetter was released more than five years early through a routine “good time” allowance.

By then, Alan Lomax was ill, and Lomax invited Ledbetter to work with him. They arranged to meet in Marshall, Texas toward the end of September. “Come prepared to travel,” Lomax wired. “Bring guitar.”  

For the next three months, unpaid, Ledbetter served as Lomax’s driver, personal attendant, and professional assistant. Together, they made their way through Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina, moving northward as they recorded primarily in state prisons, where African Americans were incarcerated at rates vastly disproportionate to their presence in the overall population.  

At the end of December, arriving in New York City, the pair shifted focus, intent on presenting Ledbetter and his music to the nation. As spokesman, Lomax aimed for sensationalism, focusing on Ledbetter’s incarcerations and describing him as “a ‘natural,’ who had no idea of money, law or ethics and who was possessed of virtually no self-restraint.” The resulting storm of publicity was marked by headlines such as “Sweet Singer of the Swamplands Here to Do a Few Tunes Between Homicides.”  

The partners’ 1935 management agreement gave Ledbetter a third of any income, minus expenses, from bookings, with the balance going to Lomax and his son. But Ledbetter’s share was managed by Lomax, who claimed he was protecting Ledbetter’s interest by only parsing out a daily allowance. Lomax also moved himself and Alan, Ledbetter, and Ledbetter’s wife Martha into a borrowed farmhouse in rural Wilton, Connecticut, away from the temptations of the city.  

At first, there were some successes: a recording contract; appearance in radio and newsreel versions of The March of Time; and a book contract for Alan and John Lomax. But as “real money” failed to materialize, Lomax asked Harold W. Thompson, a professor of English at the State College, to help arrange a tour of upstate schools.

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By the time they reached Albany on March 10, Ledbetter and Lomax had been on the road for a week, driving more than 700 miles through frequent snow and ice. Performances at the University of Rochester and the University of Buffalo had been well received, but tension between the men, building since September and intensifying once they were north, had reached a boiling point. In Rochester, the 47-year-old Ledbetter ignored Lomax’s attempt to forbid him from going out after the performance. In Buffalo, Ledbetter refused to relinquish the tip money collected after each show, and in a showdown that clearly rattled Lomax, demanded an advance on money he was owed. Lomax refused him, and later reported the humiliation of having “lost control” over Ledbetter, who he claimed, had started toward him “threateningly.” The drive to Albany had been marked by silence and distrust.

Now, at 8:30 pm on Monday night, March 11, following an introduction by John Lomax, Huddie Ledbetter walked onto the stage at Page Hall. The event, sponsored by the State College Alumni Association, was nearly sold out, with tickets priced at 50 cents, discounted to 35 cents for students. Ledbetter delighted the crowd with his singing, guitar playing, and most likely, as in Rochester, a final song punctuated by a “nimble-footed tap dance.”  

But Lomax was furious. Partway through the performance, Ledbetter had switched to a technique sometimes described as “Hawaiian” or “bottleneck,” in which a knife is used in place of a guitar slide. Lomax, sitting on stage with Alan, took it as a threat. He informed Alan that once the remainder of the tour was finished, he was through with Ledbetter. It’s not known what he said to Ledbetter, but at an after-party at the Thompson home, the performer remained in the kitchen, refusing to play for guests.

On March 26, 1935, Huddie and Martha Ledbetter boarded a bus at Port Authority for the long trip back to Louisiana. Within months, however, they returned permanently to New York City, where Ledbetter began to rebuild his career on his own terms.

[This material is adapted from Bernard’s book, Bring Judgment Day: Reclaiming Lead Belly’s Truths from Jim Crow’s Lies (Cambridge University Press, 2024). She is an Emmy and Peabody Award-winning writer and filmmaker, and an associate professor in the Department of History at UAlbany.]