Val Wilmer writes: George Webb (obituary, 28 April) gave me my first and only gig as a roadie. As a tour manager in the early 1960s, he was responsible for an extraordinary roll-call of African-American blues artists, mainly pianists. The tours were tough but getting away from the segregated US was exciting, and they were having a ball. Webb was pretty tough himself, but eventually he was floored by the constant carousing. With the mighty Roosevelt Sykes in tow, he was desperate to put his feet up. "Look," he said, "Sykes is playing the Chinese Jazz Club in Brighton tonight, and he's got to get back to London for the All-Night Carnival. Could you take care of him?"
I was only 19 but I jumped at the chance. A train trip to Brighton, some wonderful, two-fisted piano, followed by a midnight feast of chicken and chips when we got back to London. It was a blues–lover's dream. About five years ago, both Webb and I appeared in the BBC series Jazz Britannia. On the way to the launch, I spotted his dapper figure ahead. We hadn't seen each other since the mid-60s but he recognised me immediately. Without missing a beat, we began talking about Sykes, Jesse Fuller and the blues – as if the intervening four decades had never happened.