Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you — just like they have for the young-at-heart Cornbread Harris. You can find the 97-year-old Minnesota music legend’s face on billboards in downtown Minneapolis. He performs the blues at local venues and bars every week. And this week, author, music journalist, and former Local Show host Andrea Swensson’s biography on this “blessed dude,” Deeper Blues: The Life, Songs & Salvation of Cornbread Harris, is now available via University of Minnesota Press. Friday’s book launch and concert at the Cedar Cultural Center is officially sold out.

A heartwarming and historical document of the life of Cornbread Harris, Deeper Blues is also a moving story about reconciliation. It had been 50 years since Cornbread had a meaningful connection with his son Jimmy Jam — the Grammy-winning songwriter and producer behind dozens of Billboard-charting R&B/soul hits. Swensson spoke with now Local Show host Diane about getting to know both Cornbread and Jimmy Jam, and how they ultimately came back into each other’s lives.

Swensson also discussed her reflections on the Minnesota music scene since moving on after 9 1/2 years at The Current. She has since started a label, Slingshot Annie Records, making way for Cornbread’s career-spanning, eight-song album Anthology.

Transcript edited for clarity and length.

We're here for a very special occasion. You are putting out your second book called Deeper Blues: The Life, Song, and Salvation of Cornbread Harris. Congratulations. How are you feeling about all that?

Andrea Swensson: Thank you. I'm just so moved by Cornbread and his story. So it feels like such an honor to get to be this conduit for people to know about him and hear what his life has been like. He has, really, an unbelievable life story. He's 97 and still playing Palmer's every Sunday. I mean, just that alone is remarkable. But the fact that he started making music during World War II, and is still going now, and has been through so many ups and downs, and so many changes in the music scene. He's like a living history.

It's been fun to read the book, and following the work you did to uncover his life story, things that he didn't even know himself — about his parents, how they tragically passed away when he was young, and then was raised by his grandparents. And getting to showing him photos of his mother ... Tell me about that experience of uncovering these moments in Cornbread's life with him next to you as you're interviewing him. 

It was a bit of an unusual process because of his age and his memory, and the way that memories come back to him. It did feel like we were excavating his life together in a partnership. And he really was delighted by my research into him. 

So I first met him when he came into MPR for a session. And I had asked him during that session about playing with Auggie Garcia and recording with him. And even then he was like, "How did you know that?" He was so delighted that someone actually dug into his life. So when I started working with him, I just kind of went into overdrive of — let's try to find as much as possible. And he gave me the names of his parents and the names of his grandparents. And it just so happens that there are these newspaper records at the Historical Society from that era. There was a Black community newspaper called The St. Paul Echo that his family was written about in. 

So I found this article talking about his mother getting hired as the new organist at this church, and there was a picture of her. And she passed away, and Cornbread's father passed away when he was only three years old. And then he went through the foster care system before landing with his grandparents. So he didn't have any records of his early life or photographs or anything. And when I first found the photograph, it was online looking at digital archives. And it was basically just like a black box. I couldn't see anything. 

But then I went to the Historical Society, and I went into their microfilm room. And I told this librarian what I was working on, and I started kind of crying talking about him. "Well, so I have this friend named Cornbread and he's (at that point) 95 or something. And he's never seen a picture of his mother. And it's right here! This is this mother!" And she's like, "We have to figure this out." Went on this mission of adjusting all the settings. And eventually, I could see this outline of her face, and she looks like Jimmy Jam, Cornbread's son. I printed off a bunch of copies and I took some pictures on the screen, and I brought it to him. And it was just such a moving experience to say, "Here is a picture of your mother who you've thought about your whole life, for almost a century, but have never been able to look at." 

It was just beyond words to share those kinds of moments with him. And I think we've just been on this journey together of really learning more about him and what he's been through in his life. And then all of the incredible things that keep happening to him. I mean, he's on a billboard in downtown Minneapolis right now — a huge billboard on the side of the Pantages. That came out when he was 96. And now he's 97. And he's about to have this huge party at the Cedar ... There's just that many exciting things always happening to him. And he's just a remarkable human being.

You just know diehard musicians are diehard musicians, and they do it because they love it because they play every week. And it can be at a prestigious venue, or it can be at Palmer's Bar, which is a dive bar. Tell me more about that. Because I know before we turned the microphone on, you were like, him being 97, music is what's keeping him alive.

It is. And it feels dramatic to say that, but after watching him so closely, I really do believe that that's true. Because even in our visits together, I'll come over to his house and he is starting to struggle to move around and needs a lot of help just walking between the rooms and getting to his piano. But we always meet with him sitting at his piano. And by the end of the meeting, he's played me a few songs, and he's completely wide awake. And he's super dialed in. And you can just see the energy that he's getting from the music. And his shows at Palmer's are the exact same way. His band helps him get to his instrument. And as soon as he sits down, you can just see him come alive. And it just reaffirms everything that I already believed about music, which is that it touches our humanity in this way that we can't really figure out or explain. But that's what makes it so powerful. 

And he's the father of Jimmy Jam, who's a highly decorated musician … I think a big part of the story, of course, is that father-son connection. It's so heartwarming to know that you brought these two people together in such a monumental way — having been estranged for [50] years. And now they're together. Tell me about your thoughts on all that. 

The whole impetus for the book was because I had met these two men individually. And I got to a point where I was on a texting basis with Jimmy. And he and I were talking at one point, and he said, "Hey, I'm actually coming into town." They were going to film something out at Paisley Park for — I think it was the Billboard Music Awards. "And while I'm there, I would really like to visit my father. Do you know how to get a hold of him?" And I didn't know the details of their estrangement, and how long it had been, or any of the reasons behind it. But I knew that it was remarkable that he was reaching out to a local DJ to ask how to get a hold of his dad. 

So right away, I said, “Of course.” And I sent him to the best person I thought could help facilitate this meeting, which was Chris Mozena from the Hook and Ladder, who's a huge supporter of Cornbread. And then I put my phone down, and I'm like, “I wonder what will happen.” And then a few days later, I got this text from Jimmy and it was a picture of him, Cornbread, and Jimmy's son, Max, Cornbread's grandson. And it said “This was the first time that we had talked in 35 years.” And it was the first time that Cornbread got to meet his grandson, who at that point was 21. And “Thank you for helping us connect.” And I just started sobbing. It just felt so profound to be a witness to this reconnection, and I had no idea what was going to happen next. But I did know that I felt compelled to do something. So I called up Cornbread and I went to visit him and I said, “I am really moved by your whole life story. I think that it's worth a book. And I would really be honored to be the one to write it.” 

And then a few months into working with Cornbread, I reached back out to Jimmy and I told him that I was working on this book and that I would love for him to be involved. And what happened is that they both were so eager to talk more that we started doing Zoom calls, at the beginning, every week, and then every other week. At this point, I think we have probably done 45 Zoom calls between the two of them where I would bring my iPad over and set it up and just let them hang out. And it's just been so incredible to have this front-row seat to watch them talk to each other and be in each other's lives again. 

And eventually they started figuring out how to play piano together over Zoom, which was so amazing. Cornbread, in his 90s — it must be so strange to have been alive since 1927 and someone's like, "Here's Zoom." [Laughs] He figured out within the first two meetings how to play piano with Jimmy. He knows that there's a little lag, so you can't play at the same time. But if he played something, and then Jimmy played something, they can have a call and response. So it just kept kind of evolving into this musical conversation. And then eventually the point where they were able to share a stage again.

Thinking about your experiences supporting local music industries … Seeing how Prince was raised, seeing how Cornbread was raised, how might it influence the way you make decisions on how to support our music scene?

Well, working on my first book, Got to Be Something Here, it was so eye-opening in so many ways. Because I really learned in a visceral way, what I only knew passively, which is this history of racism in the Twin Cities music scene, and the segregation that, in some ways, still persists today. And the real lived experiences of all these decades of Black musicians who, just through trying to make a living playing music, have faced so much adversity. So that alone really reshaped the way I think about all of my work. It really made me want to be more intentional, as a person with a platform and a microphone and a pen, about who I'm writing about, and how I'm writing about them, and making sure that it's authentic to their experiences, and that I'm elevating voices that haven't historically been elevated. So that was a total worldview opening/shifting moment for me. 

And then moving forward, I think now that I've gotten three years into working with Cornbread in such an intimate and personal way. And then writing a book that is really personally written — I struggled at first with figuring out if I should be in it. And then I realized that the only way to really tell the story is to tell it in the first person. I've realized now that I think what I can offer is that there's this human side to being an artist, and all of life's ups and downs in the ways that it gets funneled into creativity and music. And I really am drawn to telling stories that highlight that part of it. And I think it's a combination of those two things. Who do I want to be writing about and working with? And how do I want to be doing it? And over the last decade, through lots of soul searching and trial and error, I feel like I'm finally getting to a point where I'm like, “This is what I'm supposed to be doing.” And the further down the path I get with Cornbread, especially, I'm like, this is exactly what I want to be doing with my time and my abilities. So it's just been a really interesting part of my career to really focus on how and who and what and where and why. And really examining all those things on a deep level.

You feel like you're there when you're reading this — explaining his gestures, the hand clapping ... You can just feel the warmth that exudes out of Cornbread. 

I'm really glad that comes across because I think there's just so much about him as a person and his charisma and his warmth, like you said. And just the dedication to his craft and this life that he's made in music, it's all been very moving to me. And all I really hope to do is to just convey that to people so that they can fall in love with him like I did.

Bring me back to that time when you were host of The Local Show, and you were in the studio and Cornbread Harris performed "Put the World Back Together." 

It was such a good day. So Tom Weber, who used to work for MPR News, was my co-host on that session, because we were doing some sessions together that would air on both stations. So he and I were sitting next to each other. And Cornbread comes in, gets helped to the piano. And basically, from the moment he sat down until the moment they shuffled him back out the door, he never stopped playing the piano. I think they were saying, "We're sound-checking now." It doesn't matter. He's playing the piano. And then we would talk to him, and he might stop for a while, and then he would play some more. I love that about it. 

So many musicians come in, and they're trying to get everything just sounding perfect, and making sure that they're ready. And they might be a little nervous. And for him, he was like, "Whatever, there's a piano. I'm good." You could feel that kind of familiarity and love of the instrument. And then when we started doing this session, it became obvious that it wasn't going to be like, "Okay, you play a song. And then we'll talk. And you play a song." Because everything flowed together. His memories, his stories, and the music, it all just became this performance. And it was like he was the host. And we were just along for the ride. And we got to just sit there and take it in. 

And so when he played "Put the World Back Together," he told us it was a new song. I've since learned that he first recorded it in 2001. But I think for him, when you've been making music since World War II, it is kind of a new song. And he would rework the lyrics and things. So, I thought we were hearing a brand new song. And I was just absolutely riveted to the lyrics because they're so simple, but it's so powerful — the message behind it. And it just felt so sincere in the way that he delivered it. And we were just kind of stunned, you know, sitting and watching. 

I read the afterword [in your book] by Jimmy Jam Harris. And he's just like, "I shared this with a good handful of people that I thought might appreciate it." And [people said], "Oh, this inspired me to talk to my dad, or thinking about time that I might not have been able to share with my parents." Have you heard any more of those stories? 

Yeah, and it's a lot of it is an appreciation for when there is time to reconcile, and then a deep regret and grief when that's no longer possible. We all have relationships in our lives that are hard, that take work, or didn't go the way that we wanted them to. And the relationship between a parent and a child is its own whole world of ups and downs, and pain and love. And I know what Jimmy hopes and what Cornbread hopes is that people can see that it is possible when you have the opportunity to reach back out and try to make something new together. And for them, it had been 50 years since they were in each other's lives in a meaningful way. That was when Jimmy was 15 years old. And now he's in his into his late 60s and finally has this relationship with his dad again. 

And the really amazing thing is because of Cornbread's age and memory, it's not really possible to re-litigate everything that happened between them and try to take part in therapy or something like what happened. For them, everything is just here and now in this present moment. And they have each other. And they have this time together. And they're gonna love it. 

So we've had these moments where they're on a Zoom call together, and Cornbread doesn't want it to end. And he'll just get out his encyclopedia and start reading the encyclopedia to Jimmy because he wants to call to go longer. And he ran out of stuff to talk about. Then Jimmy will just sit there smiling and watching his dad. It's like, these real human, boring moments that you share with someone when you just want to be with them. I've gotten to witness some of these moments, and it's just so beautiful. And so human. So I think that now all three of us really hope that the story will touch people and hope maybe inspire more of that kind of reconciliation because it is possible.

Tell me about some of the things that you took away from being host of The Local Show, now that you're doing what you're doing.

Well, what was really obvious to me when I was hosting the show is how much music comes out on a weekly basis out of the Minnesota scene. I mean, it's hard to explain to someone who isn't in your seat –  the absolute firehose of new WAV files flying at you all time.

[Laughs]

Yup! I am inundated.

I spent so much time just trying to keep track of what I listened to and where to put it. It's a lot. And what a great testament to the body of work that's constantly flowing out of the Twin Cities. It takes a person constantly devoting their attention to it to even try to keep up. So that has informed my understanding of this whole place. 

Something I try to explain to people that aren't from here is that you can go out literally any night of the week and find a world-class musician putting on a show. And it can be in any genre. We have so much happening all the time. And there's so many great pockets of all these different styles of music. And it all flows together in this really cool way, where you'll go out and see a jazz person playing with a rock person playing with a hip-hop person. And it all kind of makes sense. And it's just so Minneapolis in that way. And I think about my understanding of what the Minneapolis sound is. That's it to me — this combination of all these different kinds of music, and this real open-minded acceptance of all these different types of music. And this hunger from a live audience to go out and experience it. Because I feel like you go to someplace like New York, where there's all these musicians that have careers. But they're not necessarily in the clubs, because there aren't people just going out looking like local music shows. But here, there is. 

So I think it just gave me such a deeper understanding of the ecosystem, and this place, and the way that it hums with music all the time. And I just continue to fall deeper in love with it somehow, even though I've been doing this work now for a couple decades. And yeah, there's just so much left to uncover and explore. So I just really treasured the time that I got to do the show and got to be at MPR, because I was working at The Current for five years before I was even on air as a writer, and just learning so much, and being around such cool people that we're all doing interesting work. It's just a real high point for me.

Andrea Swensson’s “Deeper Blues” feat. Cornbread Harris, Jimmy Jam & Friends. 8 p.m.-11 p.m. Friday, Aug. 16, at the Cedar Cultural Center. Sold Out.