Live at the New Bluebird Nightclub
Co-produced by T-Bone Burnett; drummer Mike Buck on the session.
Fort Worth, Texas · Blues Vocalist
DEC. 6, 1925 — MAR. 8, 2001
For twenty years he sang at the Blue Bird Club. Then he bought it, and sang there ten more. This site keeps his voice, his records, and the memories of everyone who was in the room.
Robert Ealey began singing in his local church at fifteen, back home in Texarkana. By twenty he'd moved to Dallas and was singing blues professionally, influenced by Lightnin' Hopkins and T-Bone Walker. In Fort Worth he joined the Boogie Chillun Boys and became the featured voice at the Blue Bird Club.
In 1990 he teamed up with guitarist Tone Sommer and started touring Europe, where Texas urban blues found an eager audience. Every September, his own festival filled Sundance Square with the sound he'd spent a lifetime building.
On Record
1996 · Black Top Records
Featuring Mike Morgan, Tone Sommer, Ty Grimes, and Mark Rybiski.
1997 · Black Top Records
A D/FW blues session, straight from the Blue Bird's back room.
1991 · Produced by Mike Kubiak
Remastered and available in MP3 format at AllTexasMusic.com.
In His Own Fans' Words
"There was more than sweat pouring from him — the energy he filled the room with was thicker than the smoke."
— A fan, remembering a Blue Bird show"He carried a lifetime of hard knocks, but you'd never know it from the joy on his face when he sang."
— A friend and fellow musician, in the memorial guestbookStay Connected
The Bluebird Club, Fort Worth
Texarkana-born, Fort Worth-raised — thirty years of Texas blues from the same corner stage.
Robert Daniel Ealey was born December 6, 1925, in Texarkana, Texas. Long before anyone called him a bluesman, he was singing in a quartet at his church as a teenager — the same voice that would later carry across three decades of Fort Worth nightclubs got its start in a pew.
He started singing professionally at twenty, then put that career on hold to serve in the Army during World War II. When he came home, Ealey headed for Dallas in 1951 before settling into the city that would define him: Fort Worth.
In Fort Worth, Ealey teamed up with guitarist U.P. Wilson to form a duo called the Boogie Chillun Boys. Their sound left a mark on the local scene — fellow Texas singer and guitarist Ray Sharpe counted them among his own influences.
Whatever else changed, the Bluebird Club stayed constant. Ealey held court there for over three decades, eventually taking an ownership stake in it. It's where he built the bands that carried his name: the Five Careless Lovers, the Juke Jumpers, and later, on the road, a rotating cast of Texas blues players.
His 1973 live record, Live at the New Bluebird Nightclub, credited to Robert Ealey and the Five Careless Lovers, captured that room's energy — drummer Mike Buck was on the session, and the album was co-produced by a young T-Bone Burnett.
By the 1990s, Ealey and guitarist Tone Sommer were taking the sound further afield, touring the U.S. and Europe and reaching new listeners partly through television advertising work. His 1996 album Turn Out the Lights, released on Black Top Records with Mike Morgan and Sommer on guitar, and its 1997 follow-up, I Like Music When I Party, marked the fullest reach of his career.
Robert Ealey died in Fort Worth on March 8, 2001, at seventy-five, from complications following a car accident the previous December. He was laid to rest with military honors at the Dallas–Fort Worth National Cemetery. A posthumous compilation, Blues That Time Forgot, followed in 2003, and in 2020 writer Joe Nick Patoski told his fuller story in the book Robert Ealey and His Five Careless Lovers.
Born December 6 in Texarkana, Texas.
Begins singing professionally at age twenty, then serves in the U.S. Army during World War II.
Moves to Dallas, later settling in Fort Worth; forms the Boogie Chillun Boys with U.P. Wilson.
Releases Live at the New Bluebird Nightclub with the Five Careless Lovers.
Co-owns the Bluebird Club, his musical base for more than thirty years.
Releases Turn Out the Lights and I Like Music When I Party on Black Top Records; tours the U.S. and Europe.
Dies March 8 in Fort Worth; buried with military honors at Dallas–Fort Worth National Cemetery.
Subject of Joe Nick Patoski's biography, Robert Ealey and His Five Careless Lovers.
On Record
Co-produced by T-Bone Burnett; drummer Mike Buck on the session.
With Mike Morgan and Tone Sommer on guitar.
From The Stage, The Road & The Family Archive
Snapshots spanning fifty years — from a young man behind the drums to the Bluebird's biggest nights and stages overseas.
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Recordings pulled from the archive — press play and let the Bluebird come back to life.
Shared By Friends, Family & Fans
Stories people have shared over the years about Robert — on stage, behind the mic, and off the clock.
Have a memory of your own? Share it with everyone who loved him.
Post Your Memory on Facebook →Rex looks back on the many friendships he made playing around the Dallas–Fort Worth scene alongside Robert, including fellow musicians Tone Sommer and Ty Grimes. He remembers Robert's playful stage call for "Next Time You See Me" during nights at the club in Como.
During the 1997 Chicago Blues Festival, Juan stopped into a restaurant after catching another show and was surprised to find Robert on stage singing alongside U.P. Wilson. He stayed for the rest of the set, took photos, and came away with an autograph and a CD.
Robert Kamp remembers his first open jam night in the early '80s as a young, inexperienced drummer, feeling out of place hauling in gear he barely knew how to use. Robert Ealey called him up anyway, and the crowd loved it. Afterward, Ealey personally thanked him and bought him a drink — a night Kamp credits with teaching him humility and giving him the confidence to sit in with any musician, anywhere, ever since.
A short, tender note from his daughter Linda, saying she misses him and will always love her father.
Weldon remembers Robert's signature bit on stage: miming a harmonica so convincingly that plenty of people in the crowd never noticed he wasn't actually holding one.
Growing up on Fort Worth's Near Southside, William recalls sneaking into clubs as a kid just to hear the music. Later, as a young man, he visited the Bluebird and watched Robert perform — an experience he compares to being in church, given how much of himself Robert poured into every song. He credits that memory with shaping the standard he tries to live up to as a blues musician himself today.
Bill tells a favorite story from the early '70s: the morning after a late night watching Robert and the Five Careless Lovers tear up a club on Berry Street, an insulation crew showed up at his house for a scheduled job — and the driver turned out to be Robert himself, working a day job between gigs. They spent the morning talking and enjoying the view while the crew finished the work.
A quick, fond memory of nights at the Bluebird with the Juke Jumpers, Robert's signature "neck tie" catchphrase, and the small details — like the coffin handle mounted on the ladies' room wall — that made the club unforgettable.
From the Original Site · Posted 2011–2012
A bass player who sat in with Robert maybe twenty times over the years, Sonny writes at length about a trip to Belgium's Blues Peer festival in the late '90s, where their band nearly missed the flight and went on stage after midnight to 30,000 muddy, tired festival-goers. Their scrappy Fort Worth shuffle brought the crowd roaring to life, and during Robert's ballad "If You Need Me," he walked down into the audience as hundreds of hands reached out to touch him — both Robert and the crowd in tears by the end. Sonny calls him a real bluesman, a real man, and a star.
Caught an intimate bookstore appearance in Plano with only about twenty people in the room, where Robert and his guitarist performed like they were playing to a stadium. Lance remembers Robert sharing some relationship wisdom before a song, and still has the CD he signed that day.
Worked as a waitress at J&J's Blues Bar, where Robert would always invite her up to sing whenever he came in. Shortly before he died, he'd asked her to sing on a project he was planning after returning from a trip to Europe — a chance she never got, but his kindness and encouragement stayed with her.
A short note calling Robert a huge influence on their musical taste, signed simply, "We love you, Robert."
A brief tribute to the great memories of a great artist.
Remembers touring Europe with Robert and fellow musician Curly "Barefoot" Miller back in the day. Rest in peace.
First met Robert in 1972, jamming with him and the Five Careless Lovers at Mabel's and the Bluebird. John says Robert welcomed everyone who came to play or listen and had a gift for bringing people together — the roots of his own blues playing trace back to those nights. He still plays today with the Serious Blues Band in Columbia, Missouri, passing along what he picked up from Robert.
Thanks the site for the connection, and remembers that "Tudy" loved Robert and played alongside him many times — figures the two of them are together again now.
Calls Robert a Texas blues legend who will be forever missed, and asks him to give her grandmother a kiss in heaven.
A warm, upbeat note glad to have been counted among Robert's circle of friends, imagining heaven "rocking" with his sound, and thankful his music is being kept alive.
Played guitar behind Robert at several jams, including the Bluebird. Reid once brought a student along and asked Robert for some stage advice for him — Robert's tongue-in-cheek answer was to stay focused on your playing no matter the distraction, and above all, don't step on his vocals. Reid credits Robert with giving him more encouragement, and more stage time, than he'd probably earned at that point.
Two memories stand out: an unrehearsed but wonderful run through "Hideaway" one night at the Sundown on 7th Street, with Robert on drums; and years later, the last time he saw Robert, being waved up to sit at a table with his family at the Flying Saucer downtown and hearing everyone swap stories between sets. Signs off missing him, both as a mentor and a friend.
Says it was an honor to know and work with Robert, and that he was glad to hear the "lost" session tapes from the early '90s had resurfaced. Hearing "Texas Avenue" still brings back fond memories.
Says Robert and guitarist Tone Sommer left a deep mark on him at a young age. He's proud to have known and played alongside Robert, and to count Tone as a close friend and mentor ever since.
Calls Robert the "human harmonica" and the heart of the Bluebird, saying Fort Worth was never the same after he was gone — and looks forward to a good blues jam with him someday.
Enjoyed playing keyboards for Robert on the handful of gigs they shared together, and says he's missed by everyone.
Knew and jammed with Robert for around thirty years, calling him a consummate bluesman and a loyal friend to everyone in the business who knew him — someone who knew everyone, and was respected by all of them. His passing, Paul writes, changed the Fort Worth blues scene forever.
Remembers producing the Lost Tapes sessions fondly — pairing Robert and guitarist Tone Sommer with James Anderson and Mike Fiala for the rhythm section, and recording the entire album in a single day.
Performed alongside Robert for about six years before he passed, and counts sharing the stage with him — along with U.P. Wilson, Curly "Barefoot" Miller, and Ray Sharpe at his annual Blues Festival in Fort Worth — among the highlights of her career. She writes that she feels truly blessed for the time she had with him.
Had the pleasure of jamming with Robert at the Peppermill in the late 1980s, and calls him a legend.
Says the Bluebird was the first club he ever visited after moving to the U.S., and wonders what became of Freddy Cisneros, Robert's old guitarist.
Spent two formative years playing with Robert Ealey and the Careless Lovers, down to a four-piece by then. Says Robert taught him plenty about playing the blues — but even more about living a happy, joyful life. Still can't help but smile thinking about him.
Fondly recalls Robert's practical life lessons — get paid up front, never assume the band drinks for free, always tip the waitress — delivered with the same wit as everything else about him. Notes that Robert still "owes him thirty dollars from 1971" and once nicknamed him "The Big Mick," not entirely as a compliment. Says the world is a little less colorful without him.
Remembers Robert as endlessly encouraging — he once came out to support her all-girl punk band, rough sound and all, and simply smiled and told her to keep doing her thing. She says his final album's track "I'm Coming Home" still reaches somewhere deep whenever she listens to it.
A short note celebrating that Robert's memory lives on, and that his spirit still lives on at the Bluebird.
A brief thank-you for keeping Robert's music alive.
Thanks the site for keeping Robert's spirit alive, with love and respect.
More memories live on, and new ones keep coming. Add yours anytime.
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