America got the Blues today, with the news that the baddest Blues vocalist of all time Mr. Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland had passed away at 83.

A brilliant performer and showman, he personified how American Blues could be both smooth and raw, at the same time the way he sang, the blues could take you so low that falling off the floor would be up and he could lift you to unimaginable heights. His phrasing and guttural moan were his unique trademark, he attributed to listening to Nat King Cole and his moan, he got it from Aretha Franklin’s daddy, the noted preacher Rev C.L Franklin.

He recorded for over six decades, toiling for many years in the Chitlin circuit until his crossover hits, connecting with young white blues fans, much in the manner of his contemporary B.B King. His take on the T-Bone Walker standard “Stormy Monday Blues”, became the soundtrack for urban America.

Black folks have had the historical right to own the Blues, but Chicanos from the 50s and 60s grew up on Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland and made him our own.

In 1958, I first learned about Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland from our black neighbor, Mr. Aubrey Fay Sr., who would every Saturday morning crank up his HiFi and play whatever new LP he purchased the night before. One week it could be Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie, the next, Lighting Hopkins and Muddy Waters. We knew from the sound of the HiFi that it was Saturday morning and the blues vs. Pedro Infante contest was about to start. My dad being an old school Mexican didn’t understand or appreciate the sound coming from Aubrey Fay’s HiFi and without failure he would yell “Que bajen esa pinchie música de negros”, and crank up his cheap G.E house radio, to “Radio Ranchito,” a Tijuana station, hoping for help from Pedro Infante.

In the Mexican movies Pedro Infante never lost a fight, not so in cheap house radio vs HiFi. My dad eventually gave in when he realized all the neighborhood kids, including his, were enjoying both the HiFi and the music. From that point forward, Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland became the soundtrack to my life.

Fifty-five years later, his loss means the music of my life is getting unplugged. Bobby Bland’s music was everywhere. You could hear it in liquor stores, beer joints, card games, carwashes, army barracks where young soldiers are shooting craps on payday, wherever the sad and hopeful gathered.

In San Diego, he first worked clubs like Jazzville, The Sportsmen Inn, The Black Frog. He undoubtedly played in American Legions and Masonic Halls. Later came venues like the Street Scene, 4th and B, Belly Up Tavern, the Catamaran and many other upscale places.

It is said that his most devoted fan in San Diego was Sister PeeWee, from the iconic Soul Food eatery Sister PeeWee’s on Imperial Avenue, San Diego.

Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland in life, was a member of the rock and roll and Blues Hall of fame and Grammy winner which are significant awards. But, for America to not forget his contribution we need to all write to President Obama and insist that he issue an executive order to the Postal Services to issue a stamp bearing the name of Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland, An American Bluesman.

Rest in Peace Bluesman hope to see you further on up the road.