the tragic real life of Robert Johnson

Mystery, mystique and legend go hand in hand with the deep and fascinating history of blues music, but perhaps no tale is more notorious than that of Robert Johnson. The legend of how Johnson allegedly sold his soul to the devil at “the crossroads” in exchange for otherworldly musical talent, only to pass away at 27 years old, is a well-worn one. It even inspired a popular Hollywood film – 1986’s Crossroads, starring Karate Kid Ralph Macchio, and some young turk called Steve Vai.

Robert Johnson might have been the first rock star, he might have changed the course of musical history and he may have done it all with help from the beyond… But the problem with a particularly compelling legend is that it can overshadow the real story.

The real story of Robert Johnson is one that, for all his timeless talent, is filled with tragedy, heartbreak and mystery.

Fell Down on My Knees

Details about Johnson’s birth are scarce. He was born Robert Leeroy Johnson sometime around 8 May 1911 in Hazlehurst, Mississippi. His mother Julia Dodds, was married to a man by the name of Charles Dodds, with whom she had 10 other children, however Dodds was not his father. In the years prior to Johnson’s birth, Dodds had been forced to flee Mississippi for Memphis by a lynch mob, changing his surname to Spencer and leaving his wife behind.

While Charles took a mistress and had two children of his own, Julia took up with a man named Noah Johnson. The pair never married, but the relationship would produce a son – Robert.

When Robert was still a young child, Julia and Charles reconciled and for a brief time lived together with their various children in Memphis – but it wasn’t to last and eventually Julia would return to Mississippi and marry a man named Dusty Willis, who was 24 years her junior.

Johnson would use many names over the years. Over the course of his young life he would go by the surnames Dodds, Moore, James and Barstow. He enrolled in school as Robert Spencer when they lived with Charles, he was known as “Little Robert Dusty” after his stepfather in Commerce, Mississippi. In the 1920 census, he is listed as Robert Spencer, living in Lucas, Arkansas, with Will and Julia Willis.

By the time he was 13, Robert wanted a name of his own. And after finally learning his birth father’s identity, he officially changed his name to Robert Johnson – and he was hellbent on making sure that everyone knew that name.

In 1929 he married 16-year-old Virginia Travis and signed the register using his father’s surname. Not long after, Virginia fell pregnant, and wanting to provide a stable life for his family he took a job on a plantation. But tragedy soon struck – Virginia and the baby died in childbirth.

You can only imagine the anguish such a devastating loss would be to the still-teenage Robert. Despite this, some of Virginia’s relatives believed that their deaths were punishment for Robert singing secular songs, which in the vernacular of the day was known as, “selling your soul to the Devil”.

The accusation that something was wrong between Johnson and God would follow him through other doomed relationships, and before long he came to believe it himself – swearing off a normal life, and committing himself to being an itinerant musician.

Rollin’ and Tumblin’

Johnson had always loved music, and by this point in his life it was the only thing that brought him any joy. When he lived in Commerce he became quite proficient at jaw harp and harmonica.

He was inspired by rowdy country blues artists like Son House and Charley Patton and studied them performing at juke joints and bars around the south. He dreamed of leaving the plantation and creating his own voice in music. It wouldn’t be long until that dream came true.

Robert knew that if he wanted to make a name for himself, he needed to play the guitar, and In a stroke of luck, Son House had relocated to Robinsonville where Robert lived, and Johnson begged and cajoled House into letting him play with him and learn from him.

The problem was, Johnson might have been a decent harmonica player, but he was a truly terrible guitarist. In fact, Son House would later recall the time when he was watching the younger man play one night and an audience member leant over and said, “Why don’t you go out and make that boy put that thing down?” Practice was required, and lots of it.

One day Johnson just…vanished. Most people assumed he moved to Arkansas or Memphis, but nobody knew for sure. All they knew was that six months later he suddenly reappeared in Mississippi, and something had changed quite dramatically.

Where once he’d been a terrible player and average singer, he was now the talk of the nascent blues scene. He could play guitar and sing better than pretty much everyone else, and nobody was quite sure how he’d managed it. As was often the case with Robert’s life, it didn’t take long for dark rumours to swirl – but these ones would define his legacy forever.

Me and the Devil

Mississippi Delta folklore says that if you go down to the crossroads of Highways 61 and 49 in Clarksdale, and when the clock strikes midnight a person could sell their soul to the devil for fame and fortune.

It didn’t take long for the rumours to spread around the blues scene that Johnson had done exactly that – it was the only explanation. Son House remained convinced this is what happened long after Johnson’s death.

And Johnson never denied it either. He seemed more than happy to not let the truth get in the way of a good story, especially one that was building his fame and reputation – it’s the sort of great PR money can’t buy. He would even reference the legend in his songs, penning the likes of Cross Road Blues, Me and the Devil Blues, and Hellhound on my Trail to further play up to his reputation.

In truth, Johnson wasn’t the first Delta musician to be accused of making a deal with the devil for his skills. Another Mississippi bluesman, Tommy Johnson, was also claimed to have sold his soul, and then there’s Ike Zimmerman.

Zimmerman was a renowned blues guitarist who lived in Arkansas, and was such an exceptional player that it was rumoured he visited graveyards at midnight to learn guitar from the spirits who lived there.

In truth, Zimmerman is much more likely to be the source of his rapid improvement. It’s known that Johnson lived with Zimmerman’s family for an extended period of time, in order to learn the guitar. One of Zimmerman’s daughters later explained, “Robert Johnson asked my daddy to teach him how to play guitar…and my daddy taught him. He lived there with my daddy. .. he stayed a long time.”

On My Trail

While Johnson was now a feted blues musician, it was clear that he was always running from something – even if it wasn’t the Devil. While Johnson tried to settle down a few times, having a child with one woman and even marrying another, Caletta Craft, in 1931, his Faustian story followed him wherever he went and he could never resist the lure of the road for long.

Though he was friendly and entertaining, he never shied from living up to his legend. And he had a dark side. He was moody and drank a lot, often disappearing for weeks at a time. Alcohol wasn’t the only thing he had a thirst for. He was a known ladies’ man, eventually building an entire network of girlfriends – some married – from playing throughout the South.

But he was also a mentor, inspiring the likes of Muddy Waters and he would even teach one of his many girlfriends’ kids to play the guitar – he even nicknamed him ‘Robert Junior’. Junior would go on to play with artists like Sonny Boy Williamson II and Elmore James. He was Johnson’s last surviving student, and passed away in 2006.

Recordings from My Foolish Heart

By 1936 Johnson was ready to lay his songs to vinyl. Through an acquaintance he met an upstart producer named Don Law who would go on to work with Columbia Records and produce other legends like Johnny Cash and Carl Smith.

Johnson traveled to San Antonio, Texas in November of the same year where Law had a makeshift studio set up in a hotel room. Over three days Johnson recorded 16 songs including Cross Road Blues and Sweet Home Chicago – blues standards even today.

But Johnson was just getting started. His songs were released on various small labels, and one cut from the San Antonio sessions, Terraplane Blues, was a minor hit in the South and funded his second – and final – recording session.

Johnson met up with Law again in 1937, this time in Dallas. Unlike other Delta musicians, Johnson was insistent on fitting a song onto the three minutes of play time on the side of a 78-rpm record.

Johnson laid his music to vinyl during the infancy of recording. Producers in the 20s and 30s increased the speed of blues records to add energy to the quiet, somber music. Listening to his songs sped down adds even more dimension, emotion, and weight to them. In 2010, music engineers deduced that his records were sped up as much as 20 per cent. Live audiences would have heard much slower and lower-pitched songs. Johnson only recorded 29 songs in his lifetime.

A Life Cut Short

Just as it seemed that his career was finally taking off, it seemed the devil came to collect his dues. As with so many things about Johnson’s life, the circumstances of his death are mired in speculation, rumour and darkness.

What we do know is that on 15 August 1938, Johnson played his final gig at a country dance in a town outside of Greenwood, Mississippi. Three days later he would be dead, the first member of what would come to be known in rock ‘n’ roll circles as the 27 Club – musicians and actors who passed away at the age of just 27.

Officially the coroner’s report listed Johnson’s cause of death as syphilis, though no autopsy was performed. But there’s another, more sensational tale that has also gained a lot of mileage – that Johnson was killed after drinking a poisoned bottle of whiskey. Some further embellish the tale that the whisky was poisoned by the cuckolded husband of one of the women that Johnson charmed. Others think his death was a direct result of his well-documented alcohol abuse.

When he died, Johnson had no possessions or will – just his guitar, but even any detail about this special instrument has been lost to history. While the few photographs of Johnson that do exist show him with a Gibson L-1-type model (that may well have been a Kalamazoo), it’s not known if this was his guitar or just one he posed with for his promo shots.

Some say that Johnson’s guitar was shipped back to his mother after his death, and that it was later pawned when they needed money, but it’s never been confirmed. Like so many key details of his life, all we have is speculation and rumour.

Treasures from the Blues

What he did leave behind was a small but extraordinarily influential catalogue of recorded music. From Eric Clapton, Keith Richards and Jimi Hendrix to Jack White, John Mayer and Joe Bonamassa, guitarists of almost every stripe have continued to find a creative spark in Robert Johnson’s music. Clapton has called him the most important blues musician in history. In many ways, his nomadic life of music and excess was the blueprint for what would become the rock star stereotype – fittingly, he was one of the first inductees to the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame in 1986.

Just three photographs of Johnson are known. One is a formal portrait of him smiling in his suit and fedora, striped tie tucked behind his guitar – he looks dashing, charming and welcoming. The other was taken in a photo booth and shows him looking broodingly at the camera, guitar in hand, cigarette hanging from his lips. It’s a striking illustration of the supposed duality of Johnson – the ebullient entertainer with a dark side and a mean streak. But then in 2020 a third photograph was released by Johnson’s step-sister Annye Anderson – another photo booth shot, but this time showing him smiling and relaxed, guitar in hand.

Johnson was laid to rest in an unmarked grave, and there are multiple sites that claim to be his final resting place – nobody knows for sure. Some stories say he’s buried under a pecan tree, and a cenotaph in his honor resides at Mount Zion Baptist Church near Money, Mississippi.

Johnson had no problem stoking his own legend in his lifetime, but surely even he can’t have imagined the fame and notoriety that his music and myth would receive in the decades after his death.

His life was a short one marred by struggle and tragedy, but his music captured something unique and precious – he told stories through his music, dark tales that would form the bedrock of a huge swathe of popular music. Whether that came from a deal with the devil or old-fashioned hard work, it doesn’t really matter.