When Oliver Sain headed from Chicago to St. Louis in 1959 at the request of his buddy Little Milton Campbell, he was only supposed to be in the city for a weekend, filling in for Campbell's ailing saxophonist. But Sain never left.

And for the past 40-plus years, St. Louis' music scene has benefited from the presence of Sain, a highly respected, even revered music figure and the consummate musician's musician.

The blues saxophonist died quietly in bed in his St. Louis County home last Tuesday after a lengthy battle with bone and bladder cancers. His wife Ruby Sain was by his side at the time. Sain, 71, had stopped chemotherapy treatments two weeks ago at his doctors' suggestion, according to his wife, who says that "he was in good spirits" right up until his death.

That would explain why the tireless Sain showed up at his weekly gig at BB's Jazz, Blues & Soup, his longtime performing home, as recently as Oct. 23, less than a week before his death.

Man of many talents

The Man with the Golden Horn is how many referred to Sain. Others called him St. Louis' Ambassador of Rhythm & Blues. Tom "Papa" Ray, president of Vintage Vinyl, is among those who called him the Quincy Jones of St. Louis.

David Clark, a fan of Sain's, considered him an "instant addiction" after discovering his music at BB's several years ago. "Once I heard him, I couldn't get enough of him," says Clark. "I told everyone I knew, 'You have to see Oliver Sain' And anytime I had friends in town, going to see him was like part of a tour."

Some of St. Louis' music legends - Miles Davis, Chuck Berry, Ike Turner - are widely heralded. Sain's contributions won't draw comparable attention nationally, but he was no less of a musical gem. He wasn't a star in the traditional sense - recognized on the street by the wider public - but he contributed many sparkling moments under the spotlight, and his talents were large and varied. Many knew Sain was a sizzler with a saxophone, as his Thursday-night gig at BB's demonstrated weekly. But he was equally adept as a keyboardist, a bandleader, producer, arranger and writer.

Many might remember Sain for songs such as "Bus Stop," "Party Hearty," "Soul of a Man," "Feel Like Dancing" and "Booty Bumpin" - the latter a song whose title sounds as if it might have been recorded today. In fact, Sain's work remained relevant to contemporary artists. Puff Daddy (now P. Diddy), for example, sampled his "On the Hill" on the cut "Young G's" from the 1997 CD "No Way Out" (a use that Sain has said paid him handsomely).

Sain not only helped put artists such as Fontella Bass, Ann Peebles and Bobby McClure on the map, artists as diverse as the Allman Brothers Band, Loretta Lynn, Chaka Khan and Conway Twitty have recorded his music.

Campbell, who used Sain as his bandleader for years, says, "His memory, his music and the effect he had and the contributions he made to the world of music will never be forgotten. He made such an impact. I don't think you can mention anything musically about St. Louis without mentioning Oliver Sain."

John May, a founder of the St. Louis Blues Society and music manager at BB's, says Sain "always continued to be true to the music he loved, which was blues and rhythm & blues." The Blues Society is planning a tribute event for Sain.

Veteran radio talk-show host Bernie Hayes, a friend of Sain's ever since they met in Chicago 40 years ago, says, "All the people who came out of St. Louis and who are making it in the music industry were touched by Oliver. He touched their lives in monumental ways. He was their guru, more or less. They looked up to him."

One such rising musician is trumpet and trombone player Lamar Harris, who sat in with Sain once. "It's always difficult for horn players, wherever you go," says Harris. "In the times I ran into him, he really encouraged me to keep going, keep striving regardless of what else is going on. He'd give insight into how to play the game in order to survive."

Survival was something Sain knew. He believed the key to his longevity was a playing style he settled on early in his career, playing in ways routine saxophonists wouldn't. "I played for the average, blue-collar guy," Sain said. "I was playing stuff that sounded like Louis Jordan, bluesy. When I came here, I'd go out on the floor and play a tune. It was unbelievable, the response. I had all the little tricks, holding the notes. People just ate that up."

Whether his group went by the name Oliver Sain's R&B All-Stars, the Oliver Sain Revue or Oliver Sain and Band, its leader insisted on filling the stage with players who could play and singers who could sing. This ensured his concerts would be memorable affairs full of showmanship. He took pride in people coming up to him after a show to tell him they'd never seen a show like his.

"He had a knack for having great shows with fat musicians, horn sessions and multiple singers," says Mark O'Shaughnessy, president of BB's. "It was always something very interesting, cutting edge for his era."

A little help for his friends

Sain's interest in music dated back to his youngest days. As a 3-year-old, he figured out how to crank up the Victrola so he could give his favorite blues albums a spin. The Dundee, Miss., native, who moved to West Memphis, Ark., later in his youth, had music in his blood. Guitarist Dan Sane of the Mississippi Sheiks was his grandfather. His stepfather was piano player Willie Love of the King Biscuit Band.

By 17, Sain was playing professionally. After a draftee's tour with the U.S. Army, he jump-started his career again in Chicago. By the time he relocated to St. Louis (where he opened Archway Studio on Natural Bridge Road), he'd already worked with the likes of Sonny Boy Williamson, Elmore James, Howlin' Wolf and Junior Parker.

While making a name for himself, Sain, a thrice-married father of four, also made sure to help elevate others.

Fontella Bass, of "Rescue Me" fame, got her start singing with the Oliver Sain Revue, and it was Sain's connections that led to her first recording contract. "He was a perfectionist," Bass says. "And he always talked as he worked, talked to the other musicians about the music to inspire us. We inspired each other. He'll leave behind a lot of great music and a lot of humor. He had a lot of humor about everything, from politics to the junkie on the corner. Oliver was a character."

Bass wasn't able to spend much time with Sain in later years, but she says, "I'm sure he's happy he's gone. He wouldn't want to suffer like I saw him suffer. I believe there's a better place for Oliver, and he's bringing his humor with him all the way to the door."

Singer Mae Wheeler worked with Sain over the years, most recently at a Food Outreach fund-raiser at Bar Italia. She says anyone who knows the song "I Won't Complain" understands the essence of Sain.

"That's Oliver Sain's legacy," says Wheeler. "All this time that he's been sick, I never heard him complain. Ever. When you've done all that you can do, when you've done the best you can all your life, all you can do is stand. And that's what he did."

Wheeler regrets that she never recorded with Sain, despite requests from him. "I hate that," she says. "I was just thinking about that (before he died) - that I was going to call him and say let's go down to the basement and record. He was a phenomenal person, and it's my fault I haven't taken him up on it. He asked me time and time again, and he said, 'It ain't gonna cost you nothing.' I don't know why I didn't do it."

Ike Turner and Sain were friends since childhood. They grew up in nearby Mississippi towns and were friendly competitors in St. Louis in the late '50s, along with Campbell. Turner isn't one for funerals, but he won't miss Sain's, even though the California wildfires are creeping near the vicinity of his home. "He was one of the best friends I had in this world. Other than my mother, he was the best," says Turner.

A few years ago, when Sain's health was at a particular low, Turner flew him out to California to stay with him for a few weeks, and Turner turned Sain on to an organic diet to help fight the cancer. "He came here on a cane, and left without a cane," says Turner. "When he got home, Ruby called and said the cancer went into remission."

More recently, Turner had been trying to get Sain to return to the West Coast, again to better his health. "I talked to him the other day about it. He could hardly talk. I reminded him that he'd been telling me for six months he was going to come back out here. I joked that I'm still sitting on the porch waiting for him."

Republished with the permission of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.