Okay, so let's start with a little, I guess,
a word association game. All right, I'm ready.
If I say the father of the blues, who's the very
first person that pops into your head? Just,
you know, off the top of your head. Oh, well,
I mean, if you're looking at any standard music
history or you've ever been to Memphis, the answer
is it's W .C. Handy. Exactly. W .C. Handy. That's
the name. The legend, the man behind the Memphis
Blues. St. Louis Blues. He's got the statues.
He has the statues. The school's named after
him. He basically wrote the book on himself as
the originator. And he was a titan. We're not
here to, you know, tear down his legacy. He deserves
a lot of that credit, but. There's always a but,
isn't there? History's never that clean. Right.
Because what if I told you that the father of
the blues title, it might actually belong to
someone else. Someone who beat Handy to the punch.
In print. Legally. Publicly. By months. And this
is where it gets really fascinating. We're talking
about a figure who was, you know, arguably the
first to publish what we call a real blues composition.
But he's been almost completely forgotten. Erased
from the story. I mean, this is a man who wrote
lyrics in 1912 that are still standard blues
lines today. He was the one who, in a way. told
musicians to slow down and feel the music. But
he didn't live long enough to see it through.
He died young under mysterious circumstances
just before the recording boom that would have
made him a star. So today we are correcting the
record. We're doing a deep dive into the life,
the music, and the tragic end of H. Franklin,
Baby Seals. The man who might just be the true
forgotten father of the blues. So we've pulled
together a lot of material for this. We're looking
at... biographical records from old vaudeville
circuits, music archives, sheet music. And some
fantastic research from modern blues historians
who've been trying to put this puzzle back together.
And the mission is pretty simple. We want to
introduce you to the man who really stood on
that bridge between ragtime and the blues. Bridge
is the perfect word. Genres don't just appear
overnight. It's not like people went to bed listening
to ragtime and woke up playing the blues. It's
a transition. It's a transition, and Baby Seals
was right in the middle of it, basically directing
traffic. So let's go back. Turn of the 20th century.
Who was H. Franklin Seals? Well, the sources
we have place his birth around 1880. And he's
from the South. Yeah, Mobile, Alabama. And that
geography is really important. Mobile was a port
city, kind of like New Orleans, a cultural sponge.
So he's hearing everything. Everything. Opera,
folk songs, Caribbean rhythms. It was a place
where... a musician could just soak it all in.
But he doesn't stay put. He first really shows
up on the professional radar around 1909. Right,
in Shreveport, Louisiana, at the Lyric Theater.
When I read his job description there, I just
had to laugh. Today, a musician plays an instrument,
maybe they sing, but Seals, the source, lists
him as a pianist, singer, songwriter, comedian,
and dancer. That tells you everything about the
grind of the Black vaudeville circuit back then.
You couldn't just be one thing. You had to be
a jack of all trades. To survive, you had to
be a jack of all trades. You'd play piano for
the other acts, then jump up and do your own
comedy bit, then a dance, then a song. You were
the whole show. And he was good. Not just scraping
by, he was directing leading orchestras. A total
pro. He understood the business of show business.
Speaking of business, this is where we hit the
first big wait what moment. It's 1910. Seals
is in Texas, and he publishes a ragtime song.
I think I know the one you're talking about.
The title is Shake, Rattle, and Roll. Okay, let's
just pause there because I know what everyone
listening just thought. Big Joe Turner, Bill
Haley, the 50s rock anthem. It is not that song.
Definitely not. Musically, it's completely different.
But Shake, Rattle, and Roll in 1910, that phrase
was just out there 40 years before rock and roll
even existed. It's an incredible coincidence.
But it also shows you something about, you know,
the vernacular. These phrases, they describe
movement. Dance, energy, they bubble up in the
culture for decades before they finally break
into the mainstream. And the source material
calls this a ragtime coon song. We should probably
unpack that term. Yes, it's a very jarring term
for us today, but we have to understand it was
an industry label back then. Publishers, like
the one in New Orleans that put this out, used
it to categorize this upbeat, syncopated music
from minstrel shows. So... It was the pop music
of its time. In a way, yeah. It often used caricature.
But musically, it was the space where a lot of
brilliant black composers had to work to get
published. Seals was writing these catchy hits
within that system. So he's writing, performing,
directing. But he wasn't doing it all alone.
Enter baby Floyd Fisher. I love the description
of her in the sources. A dainty little singing
and dancing Zubret. That's a classic theater
term. A soubrette is the witty, lively, energetic
female performer. And they were more than just
stage partners. They were married, a real power
couple. And they had a brand. Their act was billed
as that classy, coony comedy pair. With a K.
Of course, with a K. But what's amazing is their
career path. In 1910, they're in Texas, a good
regional circuit. But by 1911... They break out
big time. The list of cities is just wild for
that era. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia. And
that is a huge deal. Getting out of the southern
Chitlin circuit and into those major northern
hubs, that's the big leagues. It tells you they
were polished, they had crossover appeal. So
it's 1912, they're touring the north, they're
successful, they're famous, and Seals decides
to publish a new song. Something different from
that upbeat ragtime. This is the moment. August
1912, St. Louis. He publishes Baby Seals Blues.
Now let's look at the calendar. This is the whole
Father of the Blues debate in a nutshell. Because
W .C. Handy's The Memphis Blues is the one that
gets all the credit. But the dates are the dates.
Seals publishes in August. Handy publishes in
September. Seals beat him to the press. He did.
Okay, so he's first. But I can hear the skeptic
saying, was it actually the blues? Or was it
just a ragtime song where he slapped the word
blues on the title to sell it? And that is the
absolute key question. The answer isn't in the
title. It's in the instructions printed on the
sheet music. The instructions for the musician.
Exactly. Right at the tot, Seals gives a specific
tempo marking. It says, very slow. Very slow.
Just two words. But... Those two words are revolutionary.
Why is that so important? Well, think about ragtime.
Ragtime was king. It was fast. It was frantic,
syncopated, music for dancing. It was all about
energy. But the blues? The blues is a drag. It's
heavy. It's about a feeling, not just movement.
So by writing very slow, he's telling every piano
player out there, hey, stop. This isn't for dancing.
This is for feeling. Precisely. He is codifying
the genre on paper. He's taking that feeling
from the juke joints and field haulers and putting
it into formal musical notation. He's saying,
this is something different. And then there are
the lyrics. I was reading them. And honestly,
if you didn't tell me this was from 1912, I'd
guess it was a Muddy Waters song from the 50s.
They're shockingly modern, aren't they? Unbelievable.
Here's the first verse. I got the blues. Can't
be satisfied today. I got them bad. Want to lay
down and die. I mean, that is it. That's the
core sentiment of the blues right there. Can't
be satisfied. And then there's the line that
just blew my mind. Woke up this morning about
half past four. Somebody knocking at my door.
Woke up this morning. It's the ultimate cliche.
It's the once upon a time of every blues song
ever written. It really is. B .B. King sang it.
It's in the theme song for The Sopranos. It is
the opening line. And here's Baby Seals putting
it on paper in 1912. So did he invent it? Or
was he just the first one to write it down? And
that's the beauty of folk traditions. He probably
didn't invent it in a vacuum. It was a phrase
people used. But he was the one who saw its power,
put it to music. And sold it. He commercialized
the oral tradition. You packaged the culture.
Exactly. And he did it with serious help. We
should mention the arranger. Artie Matthews.
A huge name in the ragtime world. The fact that
Seals partnered with a heavyweight like Matthews
tells you this was a top -tier professional production.
And it wasn't a flop. This song sold. Oh, it
sold well. The sources are clear. By late 1912,
it's being arranged for full bands. By 1913,
the newspapers are calling him a famous blues
writer. A title that literally didn't exist a
couple of years before. And he owned it. The
song had a life of its own. It got into the repertoire
of other musicians. Even Jelly Roll Morton played
Baby Seal's blues. And I saw a note about a yodeler.
Yes. A popular vaudeville yodeler named Charles
Anderson recorded it in 1923. So the song made
it onto a record. The song did, even as its composer
was starting to fade from history. But Seals
wasn't just an artist. He was really active in
the community, it seems. He was. He was a regular
correspondent for the Indianapolis Freeman. Which
was basically the billboard for the black entertainment
world. It was. The fact that he was writing in,
reporting on what was happening, it shows he
had a business mind. He was trying to be a leader
for other Southern performers. So let's recap.
It's 1913, 1914. He has a hit song. He's a famous
act with his wife. He's touring nationally. He
has this new title, Fantas Blues Rider. It sounds
like the beginning of a long, amazing career.
He's perfectly positioned. But this is where
the story turns. And it turns so, so quickly.
We know that in 1912, they're everywhere. Nashville,
Jacksonville, Harlem. Top of the bill. We're
at their peak. But then the source just says,
by 1915. And partnership is over. Suddenly, Seals
is working as a solo act. And we just don't know
why. The records don't say if it was a divorce,
a creative split, nothing. The classy pair is
just gone. And he's not in New York anymore.
He's back in the South. He's in Anniston, Alabama.
And that's where the story ends. December 29th,
1915. She dies. Do we know how? Unknown causes,
is all the record says. And his age. He was about
35 years old. 35. It's just, it's tragic. He
helps invent a new genre of music. And just as
it's taking off, he's gone. And that brings us
right back to the original question. Why Handy
and not Seals? Is it really just that simple?
He died at the wrong time. It's almost entirely
about timing. Think about what happens just five
years after he dies. The 1920s. The roaring 20s.
And the recording industry explodes. Right. Crazy
Blues by Mamie Smith comes out in 1920 and sells
a million copies. Exactly. And suddenly, record
labels are desperate to sign blues artists. Essie
Smith, Matt Rainey. They become stars because
their voices are captured on wax. And Seals missed
it. He missed the boat by five years. If he'd
lived in 1920, he would have been 40. A seasoned
pro with a hit catalog. He would have been recorded.
We could hear his voice today. That is such a
heavy thought. The line between being a legend
and being a footnote was just five more years.
And then look at W .C. Handy. He lived until
1958. 1958. That's the era of Elvis. Right. Handy
lived long enough to write his autobiography,
to give interviews, to shape his own legacy.
He got to tell his story. Seals never did. So
you have a guy who wrote Shake, Rattle and Roll
before rock. He wrote Woke Up This Morning before
the blues was even a thing. He literally told
the world to play it very slow. And yet. He's
a ghost. It is the classic story of history being
written by the survivors. Seals set the stage.
He lit the candles. He wrote the menu. And then
he left before the main course was served. It
just makes you wonder what else he would have
written. If he came up with Baby Seals Blues
in 1912, what would he have been doing in 1925?
He was an innovator. He was on that fault line
between old time entertainment and this new,
deep, personal expression. We lost his perspective
on that evolution. Well, I think we've done our
part to at least put his name back in the conversation.
Absolutely. H. Franklin Baby Seals, a name everyone
should know. So here's the question I want to
leave everyone with. We just talked about how
Seals got erased because he died right before
the technology, the record player, could make
him permanent. Right. So how many other firsts?
in art or in science, are currently credited
to the wrong people just because the real pioneer
didn't live long enough to stake their claim.
That's a haunting thought. We listen to the survivors,
but maybe the ghosts had the better songs all
along. Something to think about. Thanks for diving
in with us. See you next time.