Biography
In twentieth-century music, few enigmas rival the near-total obscurity of the Fruit Jar Guzzlers, eclipsed only by John Lennon’s assassination. Their moniker hints at a thirst-quenching bond with Gid Tanner & His Skillet Lickers, a contemporaneous old-time ensemble far better chronicled, yet the same title could have suited a punk or new-wave act; remarkably, no original members or descendants have ever asserted ownership. Liner notes accompanying the historic anthology Paramount Old Time Tunes: An Album of Recordings Originally Made in the 1920s and 1930s on the JEMF label pleaded for any reader insights, underscoring the void. Those initials denote the John Edwards Music Foundation, which issues both a journal and recordings and would surely have uncovered information had any existed. In 1928 the group waxed more than a dozen sides for Paramount during Chicago sessions. Their repertoire encompassed staples of the old-time canon—“Old Joe Clark,” “Kentucky Bootlegger,” “Stack-O-Lee,” “Cripple Creek,” and “Cacklin’ Hen”—while several discs also appeared on Broadway under the alias Panhandle Boys. Such reissues under alternate names were commonplace, letting performers vie with their own releases incognito, though not every artist learned of the practice. The most telling clue lies in songwriting credits assigned to Stevens & Bolar, names old-time enthusiasts presume belonged to band members, though industry publishing norms suggest they could have belonged to any production participant. A subtler lead surfaced at the residence of Cleve Chaffin’s cousin—another Paramount old-time artist of the era—who possessed a test pressing of “John Henry.” Pencil markings on its label read “John Henry,” sung by Cleve Chaffin, yet the matrix number matched that of the Fruit Jar Guzzlers’ “Steel Driving Man,” two titles that knowledgeable listeners recognize as variants of the same folk narrative. This link implies that Chaffin, a West Virginian, may have belonged to the group, an inference that would gain weight if anyone could verify the band’s origin in the same state—an origin that remains unknown. Uncle Dave Macon may have compounded the confusion by dubbing one of his own backup units the Fruit Jar Drinkers, implying greater restraint than the Guzzlers, a distinction some listeners miss entirely and therefore conflate the two acts. A radio documentary on Nashville’s early recording scene credited “Bake That Chicken Pie” to Uncle Dave Bacon & the Fruit Jar Guzzlers. Whether the reference intends the salty Southern cured meat whose consumption would indeed prompt guzzling rather than sipping, the ensemble still differs from the Paramount outfit. Thus the Fruit Jar Guzzlers persist as an elusive musical libation whose residue continues to cling.