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Not that any of it meant much to Texas. He might have been one of the more popular singers of the

day but he still hit the streets, taking either Funny Papa Smith, Lowell Fulson, or Sam Lightnin’ Hopkins
along with him as he worked those small towns along Highway 80 out from Dallas.

Crowds would gather as Texas hollered out his songs about cheatin’ lovers, or doin’ jail time, or
working the fields, while his guitar man desperately struggled to stay in line.

And all the time those nickels and dimes rattled down into the cup, as Texas made himself a little
money then moved on.

It all came to an end when Texas found himself back in a Lone Star jailhouse. Word on the street was

he’d murdered his wife but the truth was simpler. As Lightnin’ Hopkins explained it, Texas went to
the county farm for singing lewd songs in public.

“I got somethin’ to make the hair rise on yer head, I got somethin’ to make the springs rise on yer
bed, that’s all it was” reckoned Lightnin’ “but he knowed better than to sing that kinda song again.”

Trouble was by the time Texas got out of the can, tastes had changed and with the rise of electric
blues that old hollerin’ style of his was way out of fashion.

He spent a few years hanging around Houston working for a while with pianist Buster Pickens, even
recording a few tracks with him, but Texas was in poor health, so he headed back home to Richards

where he died, almost forgotten, from the effects of syphilis.

Texas Alexander was a throwback, a real earthy singer who lived the blues. But those front porch,
hard living songs of his struck a chord with street audiences whose small change helped keep him
out of those cotton fields, and in truth that was pretty much all that Texas Alexander had ever really

wanted all along.

The Nitecrawlers

Alger "Texas" Alexander-Levee Camp Moan Blues

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