Post by NatureCriminal7896 on Aug 15, 2021 8:14:24 GMT
Luther Jackson, Joe Jackson’s younger brother passed away of pneumonia on Sunday, Aug. 1, in the Phoenix apartment he shared with wife, Angie Jackson.
“He had COVID and after they treated that, he had pneumonia real bad,” Angie says.
“He had the kind of pneumonia that could take you right up out of here. And it did. The doctors said there wasn’t nothing they could do. They took a piece of my heart when they took my husband. I’m trying to calm down a bit but I’ve been crying every day.”
Luther Jackson moved to Phoenix to be near his parents after spending 25 years as a steelworker in Gary, Indiana. In Gary, he briefly had a blues band called the Falcons with his older brother, Joe.
His brother’s kids would watch the Falcons play and Jackson ended up teaching two of them, Jermaine and Tito Jackson, to play guitar.
Tito Jackson joined his uncle’s band on stage in 1994, sitting in on lead guitar at a House of Blues gig in Los Angeles.
Seven years later, he showed up at the Rhythm Room to get on stage and help his uncle celebrate the release of “Welcome: Live At the Hon-Dah Casino,” an album by the elder Jackson’s Phoenix-based Loose Cannons Blues Band.
Angie says, “When Tito came and did the show with him in Phoenix, oh my God, I broke down. I thought that was just the sweetest thing. That’s his favorite uncle. Whenever Tito comes down here, he’s coming to find his uncle Luther.”
Luther was proud of his nephews and enjoyed the time they spent together as a family, including a visit in 2003 to Neverland, Michael’s California ranch.
“They showed us the best time,” Angie says.
“We had a ball. And they were all there. Janet, Rebbie, Toya, all the boys. And Luther’s sons. Michael had this big stage and they got on stage and tore it up. They went up there and played their butts off. That was something I’ll never forget. The time of my life.”
As a bluesman, Luther never had the type of fame or fortune his nephews enjoyed.
“Luther seemed okay with it. He was just Luther Jackson. And that was enough.”
Once he started playing out, though, Angie says, “He really loved it. He was playing every weekend back to back to back. Sometimes a club would want him back to play for months. But he liked to move around. He’s a people’s person.”
Angie says her husband was “the sweetest man you’d ever want to meet” — very loving and caring, a person who “never met any strangers.”
The response she’s gotten from friends and fans in the blues scene has been “overwhelming,” Angie says.
“I can’t tell you how many calls I’ve gotten since he passed. They tell me, ‘You had a good husband. He was really nice to everybody.’ I tell them ‘Thank you but I know that.'”
The last time Angie heard her husband play or sing was on their patio about two months ago when friends encouraged him to get out his guitar.
“He picked a couple tunes and that was it,” she says. “He never picked it up again. I wanted him to but he said ‘I have to be in the mood, baby. I gotta be in the mood.'”
His health had been declining ever since.
“When he stopped talking and reaching for my hand, I knew it wouldn’t be long,” Angie says. “I thought he would live to be his dad’s age. His dad was 103. There’s longevity in their family. But he didn’t make it. That pneumonia took him out.”
Luther Jackson with brother Joe and their father Samuel.
“He had COVID and after they treated that, he had pneumonia real bad,” Angie says.
“He had the kind of pneumonia that could take you right up out of here. And it did. The doctors said there wasn’t nothing they could do. They took a piece of my heart when they took my husband. I’m trying to calm down a bit but I’ve been crying every day.”
Luther Jackson moved to Phoenix to be near his parents after spending 25 years as a steelworker in Gary, Indiana. In Gary, he briefly had a blues band called the Falcons with his older brother, Joe.
His brother’s kids would watch the Falcons play and Jackson ended up teaching two of them, Jermaine and Tito Jackson, to play guitar.
Tito Jackson joined his uncle’s band on stage in 1994, sitting in on lead guitar at a House of Blues gig in Los Angeles.
Seven years later, he showed up at the Rhythm Room to get on stage and help his uncle celebrate the release of “Welcome: Live At the Hon-Dah Casino,” an album by the elder Jackson’s Phoenix-based Loose Cannons Blues Band.
Angie says, “When Tito came and did the show with him in Phoenix, oh my God, I broke down. I thought that was just the sweetest thing. That’s his favorite uncle. Whenever Tito comes down here, he’s coming to find his uncle Luther.”
Luther was proud of his nephews and enjoyed the time they spent together as a family, including a visit in 2003 to Neverland, Michael’s California ranch.
“They showed us the best time,” Angie says.
“We had a ball. And they were all there. Janet, Rebbie, Toya, all the boys. And Luther’s sons. Michael had this big stage and they got on stage and tore it up. They went up there and played their butts off. That was something I’ll never forget. The time of my life.”
As a bluesman, Luther never had the type of fame or fortune his nephews enjoyed.
“Luther seemed okay with it. He was just Luther Jackson. And that was enough.”
Once he started playing out, though, Angie says, “He really loved it. He was playing every weekend back to back to back. Sometimes a club would want him back to play for months. But he liked to move around. He’s a people’s person.”
Angie says her husband was “the sweetest man you’d ever want to meet” — very loving and caring, a person who “never met any strangers.”
The response she’s gotten from friends and fans in the blues scene has been “overwhelming,” Angie says.
“I can’t tell you how many calls I’ve gotten since he passed. They tell me, ‘You had a good husband. He was really nice to everybody.’ I tell them ‘Thank you but I know that.'”
The last time Angie heard her husband play or sing was on their patio about two months ago when friends encouraged him to get out his guitar.
“He picked a couple tunes and that was it,” she says. “He never picked it up again. I wanted him to but he said ‘I have to be in the mood, baby. I gotta be in the mood.'”
His health had been declining ever since.
“When he stopped talking and reaching for my hand, I knew it wouldn’t be long,” Angie says. “I thought he would live to be his dad’s age. His dad was 103. There’s longevity in their family. But he didn’t make it. That pneumonia took him out.”
Luther Jackson with brother Joe and their father Samuel.
