Sauce Boss

It doesn't take much to remind Bill Wharton, the blues-playing chef known as “The Sauce Boss,” of how blessed his life is.

Through Planet Gumbo, an organization he helped found, Wharton constantly finds himself face-to-face with abject poverty and destitution. He holds tight to those things when the blessings of his own life chip away at his serenity and start to become burdens.

“We were doing a gig at the biggest shelter in the country — in Washington, D.C., three blocks from The Mall — and the day we did the gig, I was putting on my old shoes that morning and thinking, ‘Man ... maybe I should get a new pair,'” Wharton told The Daily Times this week. “They were getting old and all scuffed up, but then I said, ‘No; I'll put another coat of polish on them and I'll make do today.' So later that day, we were setting up at the shelter, and there was a gentleman in the front row who'd had both of his feet amputated.

“He was a drummer, and when we started playing, this man was grinning from ear to ear. He just made everybody's day, and I was saying to myself the whole time, ‘What the hell are you talking about, needing a new pair of shoes?' He was a testament to the human spirit.

“I remember this old Buddhist saying my dad told me one time — ‘I felt sorry that I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet,'” Wharton said.

Such a Zen-like attitude may seem sedate for a guy who's playing “The Shed” at Smoky Mountain Harley-Davidson this weekend, but bikers and fans of some rowdy rock and blues needn't worry — once he gets fired up, “The Sauce Boss” doesn't back down. With his chef's hat and smock, he's a little peculiar to look at at first, but the music — and the food — wins over the crowds every time, he said.

“I remember playing at ‘The Shed' last year, and it was great,” he said. “I had a great time. When we first walked out on stage, we got some crazy looks from those guys, but when we started playing, everybody started rocking. And that's our job — to rock the house, man.”

Wharton has been house-rocking since the early 1970s, when he discovered a vintage 1933 National Steel guitar leaning up against his daughter's bicycle outside of his house. A friend moving out of town had dropped it off to lighten his load, but at the time, Wharton didn't know that. In fact, for that first year, he considered it a sign from God, and so the amateur chef took up playing. At the same time, he worked on his cooking skills. Several years later, the “ Sauce Boss “ was born — a unique combination of Wharton's two loves that allows him to play the blues and cook on stage, often at the same time.

He'll drag out the gumbo pot and cook up a batch on Saturday, he said, sharing with “The Shed” masses the combination of cookery and musical wizardry that's blown away a few high-profile celebrities over the years. One of those who took a liking to Wharton was “Margaritaville” mayor Jimmy Buffett, who even wrote about the “Sauce Boss” in his song, “I Will Play for Gumbo.”

But while he enjoys playing for music fans, he feeds himself spiritually when he plays for the downtrodden. Planet Gumbo, he said, evolved from a 2002 gig at a soup kitchen, the response to which opened his eyes to the healing power of music and food combined.

“It's an amazing thing,” he said. “When we're on the road with a day off, we'll take the show to a homeless shelter. We play shows all over the country. It enables us to righteously sing the blues.”

This weekend's trip to East Tennessee will include a stop at Volunteer Ministries in Knoxville — his third time there. In recent years, he added, the number of clients at such shelters has risen in the wake of the economic recession, meaning Planet Gumbo serves a greater need than ever before.

“The numbers have gone up, and there's something of a change in the clients,” he said. “There's always been homeless people, but in the past couple of years, you see a lot more older people and older couples who are nicely dressed. You see a lot of women with families and a lot of children. It's definitely not your stereotypical bum on the street, is what I'm saying. There's a problem in that a lot of people have been treated unfairly, I believe.”

Such circumstances led Wharton to broach the subject on his most recent album, “Hot n' Heavy,” released in March. One track, “That's How It Feels,” is written from the point of view of a homeless person; it's intentionally followed by “Gonna Be All Right,” which Wharton likens to the sun coming out from behind dark clouds.

“It's just an affirmation of this whole thing — of how you have to hang in there with a good attitude, and that it's going to be OK,” he said.
- Daily News Maryville TN

Stirring

A good word for this, stirring! Sauce Boss (Bill Wharton) plays and cooks with guitar and stove and voice. Is this a selection from various earlier sets? Non-obscure support, including three titles with Lucky Peterson, including “Let the Big Dog Eat” (in the style of a hound-dog ingesting). Hear John Babich’s splendid piano in the tight band on “I’m Cookin’ .” The second of two power-harmonica contributions from Pat Ramsay distinguishes “Alligator”, while on “Going Back to Florida” Sauce Boss delivers gruff relish vocal over cordon bleu slide guitar. “Ten Foot Pole” has some associates gloriously croak-echoing the complaint. Bigwhoppering fun! Whoever stole his implement couldn’t remove his gusto. Hear the ham-curing laugh, and Babich’s deliberately ham-flavored piano. “Your Maytag Done Broke Down” features prominent slide on what sounds like an amplified National steel model. A serious blues guitarist! Would he fry Walter Trout? “Cypress Grove” fails vocally, but not instrumentally, “Great Big Fanny” rocks, and “Open Up” is a Nashvillish bellow with Elmore James intro and solo. “Little Miss Heartbreak” has a deliciously dire lyric (“you so sweet you give me diabetes”). Towards the end of the CD, Sauce Boss refuses whisky, but not on “never on an empty stomach” grounds. He shares his own relish! I gather he also feeds the poor. Bon appetit!
- Pop Matters

Once in a while I come across an album so authentic it reminds me music doesn’t have to tout bells and whistles to make its mark. Bill “The Sauce Boss” Wharton’s Raw is the perfect example. No stranger to the music scene, the Sauce Boss has recorded over half a dozen albums and is the type of singer whose voice itself tells a story. With an almost growl, the Sauce Boss’ voice breezes effortlessly through a traditional blues song like “Digging My Potatoes” to original rocking blues songs such as “Outlaw Blues” and “Every Inch of Your Body.”

On “Taxi in the Rain," the Sauce Boss slows the tempo down and offers the listener a glimpse of his gentler side, while on “Sweet Stuff” we get a taste of the Sauce Boss’s staple playfulness as he compares his love with a variety of foods. The theme of food continues on the infectiously bluesy “All That Meat and No Potatoes” which couldn’t stop your foot from tapping if you tried.

So what’s the deal with all these food references? A little sleuth work revealed the Sauce Boss isn’t just a singer, he’s also an accomplished chef known for his dynamite gumbo (recipe available on his website). Even the Food Network has done two spotlights on him.

To close the album, “Left Handed Smile," a touching ballad, serves as a reminder to keep on smiling in the face of trouble and you'll persevere.

After the performers have done their last encore
I will still be standing with a smile I always wore

The Sauce Boss is genuine in his delivery and sincere in his sound. This guy’s not just a singer; he’s a storyteller and on Raw he proves these stories are definitely worth hearing.
- Indie Music

It was very cold Thursday night, but not too cold for hot blues and spicy gumbo with the Sauce Boss, Bill Wharton, at Moondog's.

The Florida native Wharton, who's been bringing his gumbo-fueled music to the Burgh since back in the days of the Decade, seems almost as much at home in Moondog's as the fans, a few of whom actually ventured out to hear some blues and eat some gumbo, cooked on the stage, as usual, while Wharton also whips up tasty blues servings (yes, there will be lots more food and blues puns served up here -- live with it...).

Wharton, his band, and his gumbo pot. (Jim White photo)The music is mostly all Wharton originals, all in the spirit of great slide blues, and all cooked with flavor and style. From the opening "Digging My Potatoes," you're on notice that the notes will fly thick and fast, except when Wharton takes time to add ingredients to the cooking pot on the stage where his gumbo is brewing. There were peppers, onions, shrimp, oysters, chicken, okra, crawdads, and who knows what else dumped into the pot as the music simmered along.

Actually, there was a little moment of doubt (especially in the front row) when the cooking flames briefly refused to be confined to their vessel. After some minor repairs, the gumbo was on its way.

I should note that Wharton's music, like his gumbo, is not all slash and burn. "Every Inch of Your Body" and "Taxi in the Rain" are poignant and searching. Despite the cooking and clowning, Wharton's blues are serious, tasty stuff. They're enough, on their own, to fill any hole in your soul.

Happy gumbo diners after the show. (Jim White photo)

Magic John on bass was joined by new drummer Justin Headley. The trio cranks out a higher energy level than you would think possible, thanks mostly to Wharton's steamy slide guitar work.

At the end of the night, the gumbo is ready, and everyone lines up for a bowl. And the gumbo, spiced with Wharton's own hot sauce, is worth the wait.

Wharton has turned his soul food gig into a venture to help feed people who need food, called Planet Gumbo. He performs and cooks for homeless shelters and other organizations devoted to helping the needy. In fact, tomorrow (Jan, 18), he returns to perform for the East End Cooperative Ministry 25th Annual Martin Luther King Jr. Celebration at Eastminster Presbyterian Church.

By the way, kudos, or cheers, or whatever to the Moondog. He's brought in a few good beers. Even if they couldn't find me the lone St. Nikolaus Bock thought to remain in the cooler, there was the always-reliable Guinness on tap, along with a few other goodies, like Penn Pilsner. BeerNotes was a happy lad.
- Pittsburgh Post Gazette

It appears as if the PR machine behind the Florida-based slide guitarist known as "Sauce Boss" is fed up — no pun intended — with the cute plays on words critics have used to describe the Sauce Boss and his, um, tasty blues sound. So, let's just say that on his ninth album, Raw, the Sauce Boss (who also goes by the name of Bill Wharton and serves up his famous gumbo to homeless people all over the country, as well as Hurricane Katrina survivors) plays authentic, down 'n dirty blues like you've probably heard before from other musicians who don't give themselves sassy kitchen-centric names. But the Sauce Boss' mean guitar powered by a 1948 Fender amp and resilient voice that's both gritty and tender — not to mention the thumpin' rhythm section of Majic John and Big Jim — make Raw a treat. (Oops, sorry for the food reference.)


Track Listing:
1) Digging My Potatoes
2) Every Inch of Your Body
3) Outlaw Blues
4) Taxi in the Rain
5) Sweet Stuff
6) I Bait My Hook by the Light of the Moon
7) Hurricane Blues
8) A Hundred Times A Day
9) Deep in the Shed
10) All That Meat and No Potatoes
11) Someone
12) The Shakes
13) Left Handed Smile

Added: August 26th 2008
Reviewer: Michael Popke
Score:
Related Link: Official Sauce Boss Web Site
Hits: 305
Language: english
- Sea of Tranquility

"He stirs up the crowd as well as the roux, giving his audience a demonstration of both cooking and guitar skills they'll never forget."
THE TIMES-PICAYUNE (New Orleans)

"Wharton rips into solos in the same class as Billy Gibbons or Ry Cooder. Aficionados and casual blues fans alike should appreciate what the Sauce Boss cooks up."
PERFORMING SONGWRITER MAGAZINE 12/03

Bill Wharton, a.k.a "The Sauce Boss", is a favorite attraction at blues festivals, state fairs, and clubs all over the country for two reasons: He's a wonderful player and singer, and he cooks up a mind-blowing gumbo right on stage, passing out the tasty results at set's end . . . Wharton's slide guitar is always innovative, and his high baritone matches the tunes perfectly. . . However, it could be the eatin' side of things that will permanently hook you into the Sauce Boss's universe . . ."
BLUES REVUE MAGAZINE

"The best bar band I've seen in a long time . . . You know Bill, everybody wants to be me. But I'd like to open a bait shop and be you." JIMMY BUFFETT
"The Sauce Boss does his cookin' on stage,
Stirrin' and a singing for his nightly wage.
Sweating and a frettin' from his head to toe,
Playin' and swayin with the gumbo
Prayin' and buffetin' with the gumbo
From "I Will Play for Gumbo" (1999) by JIMMY BUFFETT

"Talk about a hot show: Bill Wharton brings it-music and gumbo-to a boil and never lets 'em leave hungry . . . the poet laureate of sauce, the sauce boss himself, a gentleman by the name of Bill Wharton, a modern hero of the blues and a visionary . . . he's a gumbo preacher with a slide guitar . . . He and his band don't just perform the blues they cook them, literally . . . "
Bob Shacochis, GENTLEMAN'S QUARTERLY

"Try this trick: Stir, play guitar, taste, adjust heat, guitar again, stir again, sing. Wharton's got gumbo down to a science. Or is it a religion? Wharton doesn't really make gumbo; he plays it into existence summoning the spirit of Lightning Hopkins to share pot space with his own Liquid Summer hot sauce. As an artist, he's borrowed from the recipes of the Chicago blues as well as Julia Child. He takes a guitar, a pot and a burner onto stages of blues festivals and juke joints all over the world."
BRETT ANDERSON, CITY PAPER (D.C.)

"It's an amusing, engaging mixture."
NEW YORK TIMES

"Wharton is not only a fine slide guitarist . . . but serious about the blues in an almost evangelical fashion. He respects its origins as a field hand's survival kit, and looks to ease his audience's tensions and relieve their emotional starvation with a communal meal. Music and food is an old elixir, a participatory, not a spectator event."
WASHINGTON POST

"Bill Wharton is an American original, the kind of citizen that makes us proud to live in this country . . . Wharton and his band play a rich flavor of blues ... making better records each time out."
CMJ NEW MUSIC REPORT

"A very talented slide guitar player, blues hound, Bill Wharton has enjoyed a strong word-of- mouth following. Those in the know, including many blues legends, say that Wharton is one of the most dynamic bluesmen going."
THE AUSTIN CHRONICLE

"Bill Wharton and the Ingredient's CD RECIPES is a highly infectious outing with Bill "The Sauce Boss" as he cooks up a tasty gumbo of high energy rockin' blues. The Chef plays a mean slide, the band sizzles and Kenny Neal spices things up on harmonica."
BLUES ACCESS

"This is no white-boy poseur. Wharton plays it, sings it, and feels it with burning intensity at every show. He lays it all on the line and invites you to meet him up there. The whole show is comic blues church service, with Wharton as the hammy preacher/devil relishing the irony of sanctifying Les bon temps with his sacramental big spoon." TALLAHASSEE DEMOCRAT

" . . .Bill Wharton has heaped this new platter, which he sells with snake-oil charm, with a foot stomping, full-length blues album and a cookbook, and a travelogue of Bill's favorite road food and a gumbo video, not to mention a history of his Liquid Summer Hot Sauces and an instant Internet link to the Sauce Boss' own Web site for concert listings, a new recipe every month, sound clips and MP3 giveaways. "I love the idea of using this state-of-the-art technology to spread our laid-back, down-home and funky philosophy around the world,' he says with an evil laugh. When the gumbo is finally thick and dark as voodoo, Bill dishes it out, and the crowd takes it like communion. Gumbo, Bill says, is the perfect metaphor for mankind because when you throw everything you've got into the pot and just give it time to come together, then it works. So he serves up his Gospel of the Gumbo to show people that when they come together for good food and good music all the differences between them dissolve."
WEEKLY PLANET (Tampa, FL)

"Bill is one of those Florida-born silver tongued charmers who can not only play guitar and drums but could talk the armor off an armadillo if he tried."
FLORIDA TODAY

AND FROM FRANCE

"He belts out a high energy blues and plays the cooking pot simultaneously. More then a simple attraction, his musical gastronomical spectacle becomes a big family soup while the vapors from his cooking tempts your taste buds, the loudspeakers release quite another spice which is no less delectable."
GUITAR

"The inventor of gastronomical blues-boogie."
ROCK AND FOLK

"His album MIAMI BLUES AND LIQUID SUMMER (Loft records) unveils a gutsy slide playing and a blues voice that is ready to defrost the whole earth... Indispensable to gastronomical music maniacs."
BEST 283

"Bourges, France
The odor of gumbo cooking floats over the first two sets of I-mean business blues...Guitar slung over shoulder, he tends to the steaming pot. Your stomach is getting jealous of your ears..."Gumbo" he'll tell you as told the French here, pouring LIQUID Summer into the brew in the middle of a combined cooking lesson and Robert Johnson tune, is "bouillabaisse made in hell." It takes a certain amount of chutzpa to teach the French how to cook..."
Mike Zweirn, INTERNATIONAL HERALD TRIBUNE - Various

Music isn't the only thing simmering on stage when the Sauce Boss plays the blues.

Momma and Daddy didn't give him that name — they called him Bill Wharton — but they did teach their baby how to eat. Slide guitar was something the Sauce Boss picked up on his own, and he has played anywhere people want to dance for nearly four decades.

Like other road dog musicians, Wharton needed a second income. So he concocted his Liquid Summer hot sauces to sell at shows. Turned out that was just an appetizer.

When the Sauce Boss plays these days, he's joined on stage by a bubbling gumbo pot, adding ingredients as the show progresses. For an encore, he dishes out the Cajun stew to the audience. Wharton figures he has served more than 160,000 people since adding gumbo to the musical menu. Jimmy Buffett was so impressed that he wrote a song about Wharton: I Will Play for Gumbo.

Before Wharton opens for Dr. John at the Palladium Theater in St. Petersburg on Thursday night, he spoke to the Times about the tastiest concert you'll ever know.

How did you get the idea to add gumbo to your act?

It was New Year's Eve 1989. I was in the studio working on my first King Snake (Records) album, The Sauce Boss. At the same time, (bluesman Kenny Neal's) mom, Shirley, was making gumbo for everyone in the studio and I watched her like a hawk. She kind of showed me how to do it all.

I'd already been doing my sauce, selling it at the gigs. And I said, you know, this would be a great platform; I'd feed some folks and show off my sauce. It has evolved into this huge, kind of like rock 'n' roll tent meeting, soul-shouting picnic. That's what I call it.

Do you plan your set to play certain songs when you add certain ingredients?

We have a very extemporaneous set list. I never know what I'm going to do when I hit the stage. There's a few tunes, you know, the finale and the beginning, and whatever has been on my mind the last few weeks or whatever. But the gumbo? The recipe kind of takes cares of itself somehow. We have a number of little segues with just bass and drums when I'm doing the demonstration, mixing it up. It's like a DNA meld between Julia Child and B.B. King.

Ever hear any complaints about the food?

No, but there are some places where the spiciness is kind of interesting to them. What it is, is that a lot of these people will be sitting there smelling this stuff cook for hours. By the time we serve it, they're ready for it.

Your Web site (sauceboss.com) is equally devoted to your tastes in food and music.

We're kind of a clearinghouse of food ideas, both in recipes and also the whole thing about my foraging on the highway. It's our quest for good food. We're over Mickey D's and that sort of thing. I like to find a place where Grandma taught this person how to cook. That's what we try to share with everybody.

What's your favorite discovery, so far?

Wow. There's so many. One was this place called the Little Red Schoolhouse, way out in the sticks in southern Alabama — which is an actual one-room schoolhouse — where the people grow their own vegetables to serve in the restaurant. That was really cool. Of course, there's always the classics like Bryant's Barbeque in Kansas City.

There's so many good places. Not only do people who are traveling need to know about these places, these places need people to talk about them. These recipes and these ways of doing things need to be preserved.

Ever have any accidents during a show, like knocking over the gumbo pot?

We had one in Windsor, Ontario. The Canadians immediately got out their snow shovels and a bunch of towels and swabbed down the stage. Luckily, the major part of the ingredients hadn't been put in yet and we were able to serve it up. It was a little light on the roux, but it worked. We've had some disasters over the 20 years we've been doing this, but somehow it always seems to work out.

Steve Persall is the Times' film critic. He can be reached at persall@sptimes.com or (727) 893-8365. Read his blog, Reeling in the Years, at blogs.tampabay.com/movies.

. IF YOU GO

Dr. John and the Sauce Boss

Dr. John and the Lower 911 with the Sauce Boss, Bill Wharton,
8 p.m. Thursday at the Palladium Theater, 253 Fifth Ave. N,
St. Petersburg. Tickets are $45. Call (727) 822-3590 for information. Wharton returns on Jan. 23 to the Largo Cultural Center.
Call (727) 587-6793 for information.
- Tampa Bay.com

Bill "The Sauce Boss" Wharton drums on a pan Wednesday while making gumbo
for residents at the McKinney Shelter in Newport. (All photos by Ashley Wilkerson/Daily News staff)

NEWPORT — The folks at the McKinney Shelter are more accustomed to living the blues than hearing them.

But on Wednesday night, Bill “The Sauce Boss” Wharton played the deep blues and lifted their spirits. Wharton and his band — bassist Magic John Jones and drummer Big Jim Jenness — really cook.

Seriously.

Wharton performs at homeless shelters across the country. And while he wails on guitar, he stirs a pot of gumbo for the residents. Most of his songs are originals, and a lot concern food.

“We call it the ‘Gumbo Crusade,’ and 150,000 bowls of gumbo later, here we are,” he said.

More than 20 people packed the shelter’s lounge for the 50-minute show, clapping and singing along to the standard “Old Time Religion” and lining up afterwards for steaming bowls of gumbo.

“Boy, this is fantastic,” said Leonard Delisle, 30, who is staying at the shelter. “I’ve never seen or heard anything like that in my life.”

Wharton, 60, looks like he should be hanging out with Emeril Lagasse more than B.B. King. He wears a white chef’s hat and shirt and sports Clark Kent-style glasses. The Tallahassee, Fla., resident is an accomplished guitarist, with hints of Ry Cooder and Robert Johnson tossed in.

As a musician, he’s the real deal. And his gumbo is the real meal.

Wharton started marketing his own hot sauce in 1989. Then came the Gumbo Crusade, sort of a traveling soup kitchen with slide guitar. He looks for shelters to play in whenever he’s in a particular town. He performs tonight at the Newport Blues Cafe, where patrons will be asked to fill up a large gumbo pot with money. Proceeds will go to the McKinney Shelter.

“In the past five years, we’ve raised $50,000 for those in need,” Wharton said.

At the McKinney Shelter, everyone has a story. Some are fresh from drug- and alcohol-rehab stints and some are fighting mental illness. Others are jobless and broke. Some fall under the category of all of the above.

The 50 Washington Square complex houses the shelter, transitional housing units and single-room apartments. Carrie Wildermuth, 29, lives in transitional housing, hoping to land an apartment outside the building in the coming months.

She said she suffers from mental illness and the building provides stability and support. “We’re a family here, maybe a dysfunctional family, but a family,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without this place.”

Wildermuth enjoyed the show, saying it was a nice break from the building’s day-to-day life. “The thing is, it’s nice to be thought of,” she said. “It doesn’t happen all the time.”

Police Sgt. James Quinn, who also books acts at the Blues Cafe, helped organize the show. Quinn knows most of the shelter residents. Some he’s arrested and some he’s tried to steer toward jobs and recovery.

“This was something different for this particular community. Having him play the McKinney Shelter is something unique,” he said. “I’d never seen a performer before who played and cooked a meal at the same time.”

Debbie Johnston, who runs the shelter, said it’s the first time in her seven years that anyone has performed for the residents.

“This is something different for the people here,” she said. “They’re not really able to go out and enjoy a blues show. We’re bringing it to them.”

The Sauce Boss stirred the pot between guitar solos, with wife, Ruth, doing the same. Wharton checked the crowd for seafood allergies, making up special shrimp-free bowls for those afflicted. Part of his musical recipe includes a little church-meeting, hands-in-the-air gospel revival.

Though the theme always boomerangs back to food. “Praise the lord and pass the grits,” he yelled at one point.

Joseph Coite enthusiastically dug his spoon into a bowl of gumbo. He’s stayed in the shelter on and off for 10 years and said the show helped people forget their troubles for a spell.

“This was something special,” he said. “It really lifts your spirits. We needed it. It put everyone in a good mood for the night.” - Newport Daily News

The pungent smell of sliced onions permeated the air as a man in a crisp, white chef's coat and hat stirred a vat of boiling salted water and chicken stock with an oarlike wooden paddle.

He stepped from behind the vat and turned his attention to the guitar slung around his neck. The twang of the guitar heralded the start of a song, enthusiastically belted out: "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! SON, LOOK OUT! LET THE BIG DOG EAT!"

The thumping beat of the music attracted people from all corners of Pinellas Hope, the temporary homeless shelter at 5726 126th Ave. N on the edge of Pinellas Park. Soon, the camp's residents were tapping their feet, swaying their bodies and nodding their heads in time to the music of Bill Wharton, who goes by the name "Sauce Boss."

Wharton, who is in town to perform today and Sunday at the Florida State Fair in Tampa, had stopped by Pinellas Hope on Friday to cook gumbo and entertain the homeless. It's a labor of love he's been performing for the past five years. He's become so well known for his championship of the homeless that Jimmy Buffett wrote a song about him called I Will Play for Gumbo.

"It's a big soup kitchen wherever I am, and I bring the kitchen," Wharton said. "I like sharing (and) I'm doing my own thing - totally."

Wharton, 60, who is soft-spoken when he's not belting out a song, is an Orlando native who has been playing professionally since he was 14. He spent years traveling around the United States, Canada and Europe playing original music and some blues written by others.

Somewhere along the way, he invented a hot sauce, Liquid Summer, made with the datil pepper, a Florida product.

The sauce "just kind of wormed its way into my act," he said. The gumbo came later after he spent an evening watching Shirley Neal, the wife of fellow entertainer Raful Neal, make the soup.

"I watched her like a hawk," he said. He started cooking gumbo while performing his music on New Year's Eve 1989, and "150,000 bowls later, here we are."

Five years ago, he was invited to bring his song-and-gumbo act to the Daily Bread Soup Kitchen in Orlando. Wharton's life was changed. Not only was he energized by the reaction of the homeless, the television coverage of his act highlighted the plight of a population that many forget exists. Wharton formed a charitable corporation called Planet Gumbo, and he's been cooking soup and playing free for the homeless ever since, in addition to his paid gigs.

"I thought I was pretty cool before this ever happened, but I didn't have a clue," Wharton said.

Wharton said his message for the homeless is that "if I can do this, you can do this." He also has a message for the more fortunate: "tolerance of all people."

Wharton said he believes he's one of many who herald a "change in the air."

"I think people are over the things that happened in the '90s: corporate greed and the lack of concern for our brothers and our sisters."

IF YOU GO

The Sauce Boss

Bill "Sauce Boss" Wharton is scheduled to play at 1 and 3 p.m. today and Sunday at the Florida State Fair. Gates open at 9 a.m.; parking is free, and so is the Sauce Boss' concert with fair admission. The Florida State Fairgrounds is 7miles east of downtown Tampa, with easy access via Interstate 75, Interstate 4, U.S. 301, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and Orient Road. To learn more about Wharton, visit www.sauceboss.com or www.planetgumbo.org.

- St. Petersburg Times

It is easy to write off Florida swamp-blues guitarist Bill "Sauce Boss" Wharton as a novelty act, a guy who 20 years ago came up with a shtick to sell albums and make a name for himself.
Easy, yes. But unfair.
Two things become obvious when listening to him talk: One, he's as serious about gumbo as he is about the blues. And two, he has a big heart.

Mr. Wharton, whose repertoire of concurrently making music and food was featured in the 1999 Jimmy Buffett song "I Will Play for Gumbo," has an especially soft spot for people displaced from their homes because of the economy, a natural disaster, or some other reason.

He comes close to tears when talking about what he's gotten out of entertaining the homeless, saying people would be better off if they cast aside stereotypes, broke down barriers, looked each other in the eye, and extended a helping hand without judgment.

"I have this feeling of service. I have found a niche where I can do things for people and I can feel really, really good about it. I'm doing my life's work. Anybody who does their life work for those less fortunate knows what I'm talking about," Mr. Wharton said. "It's kind of like tithing at church. It's giving back to the community."

Like athletes, musicians are an at-risk group. Although many are down to earth, some lose sight of their roots and fall victim to egos, arrogance, self-indulgence, and idol-worshipping as they attain success.

Mr. Wharton said he wants none of that. He said he shuns "that whole extravagant rock star lifestyle that a lot of people wish they had."

"I'm wireless. I'm in the audience during my shows," he said, offering it as a sign of how he enjoys mingling with the crowd.

Mr. Wharton has received raves on the Web site CD Baby for the 11 albums he has released. His latest, "Hot 'N Heavy," came out last month.

He is known for cooking on stage as he plays, a routine he started in 1990 while promoting a hot sauce he makes.

Most of his songs revolve around food - hence the Sauce Boss moniker, the chef uniform, the ladle, and the cooking pot.

In the fall of 2002, his act evolved into a routine of cooking 300 meals for homeless residents prior to his gigs.

That's something he'll do from 4 to 5 p.m. today at the Cherry Street Mission's Madison Food Service and Community Building, 1919 Madison Ave., one day before his paid gig at the Wild Hog Saloon, 1260 Alexis Rd. Tickets for the latter at 8 p.m. tomorrow cost $12 in advance and $15 at the door.

His appearances are sponsored by the Toledo-based Black Swamp Blues Society.

The society's president, LaVonne Kujawa, said she learned about Mr. Wharton from his 2009 appearance at the annual blues festival in Monroe sponsored by the Monroe County Library System.

She said she loved his slide guitar, and his showmanship - the humor he injected about his gumbo and the way he occasionally stuck out his tongue.

"It's just nice, clean entertainment," Ms. Kujawa said.

She compared Mr. Wharton to Toledo's own Pat Lewandowski, a local bluesman and survey crew chief for Lewandowski Engineers. Mr. Lewandowski likewise has donated considerable time to the homeless since at least 1990.

Mr. Lewandowski, fittingly, will open Friday night's Sauce Boss show with local bluesman Danny Pratt. Dan Rogers, Cherry Street's president and chief executive officer, said Mr. Wharton's devotion to the homeless helps humanize the issue. "Homelessness can be viewed as a topic and not as a human issue. What Sauce Boss does is put a face on it," Mr. Rogers said. "For us, man, it just means the world."

Mr. Wharton's cooking has been more than a conversation piece. Through his nonprofit group, Planet Gumbo, he figures he has served more than 165,000 meals free of charge.

"I've never been a rich person. I've never been without a home. I've always had something to eat. But whenever I've seen people down on their luck, I've never looked down on them," Mr. Wharton said. "I just see so much of this [poverty] in a country that is so wealthy. It just makes me feel we should all do something."

Bill "Sauce Boss" Wharton performs at 8 p.m. tomorrow at the Wild Hog Saloon, 1260 Alexis Rd., with special guests Pat Lewandowski and Danny Pratt opening. Tickets are $12 in advance from the Black Swamp Blues Society, and $15 at the door. Mr. Wharton also will serve gumbo to clients of the Cherry Street Mission at a special performance he is giving them at 4 p.m. today.

Information about Planet Gumbo, Mr. Wharton's nonprofit group for feeding the homeless, can be found at planetgumbo.org. His Sauce Boss site is at sauceboss.com.


- Toledo Blade