Yet Berry, in his role as rock and roll pioneer, also dealt with racism and bigotry, particularly when he was accused in 1961 of violating the Mann Act (transporting a woman or girl across state lines for purposes of prostitution). Berry claimed he had met Janice Norine Escalanti, a 14-year-old Native American, during a show in Texas and hired her to work at his St. Louis club, Club Bandstand. Imprisoned after a second trial (the first conviction was overturned due to the judge repeatedly using the word "nigra"), Berry, who pleaded not guilty, wound up serving nearly two years in prison and emerged a noticeably changed, bitter man. In recent years, he had mellowed somewhat, thanks in part to receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Grammys in 1986 and being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Born in St. Louis on October 18th, 1926, Charles Edward Anderson Berry learned to play blues guitar as a teenager and first performed at his high school talent show. Music was his first love but not necessarily his first career choice. The son of a carpenter, Berry worked on a General Motors assembly line and studied to be a hairdresser. With pianist Johnnie Johnson (a regular part of his band for years to come), Berry formed a band in 1952. After meeting blues legend Muddy Waters, Berry was introduced to Chess Records founder Leonard Chess in 1955. Berry brought along a song based on the country tune "Ida Red." With a new title and lyrics — and an immediately grabby, grinding opening guitar lick — the song was transformed into "Maybellene." On a return trip, Berry brought his recording of the song and was immediately signed to the label. "[Chess] couldn’t believe that a country tune (he called it a ‘hillbilly song’) could be written and sung by a black guy," Berry later wrote in his 1987 memoir Chuck Berry: The Autobiography.

"Maybellene" hit Number Five in 1955 and established Berry's career and sound. By the end of the 1950s, he had logged seven more top 40 hits: "Roll Over Beethoven" (Number 29), "School Day" (Number Three), "Rock & Roll Music" (Number Eight), "Sweet Little Sixteen" (Number Two), "Johnny B. Goode" (Number Eight), "Carol" (Number 28) and "Back in the U.S.A." (Number 37). Although he was already in his early thirties by the time he scored those hits, Berry was unabashed about why he wrote for a younger audience. "Whatever would sell was what I thought I should concentrate on," he wrote in his memoir, "so from 'Maybellene' on, I mainly improvised my lyrics toward the young adult and some even for the teeny boppers, as they called the tots then."

Each song was defined by the Berry trademarks: that blend of propulsive beat, rueful charm, and ringing guitar. "The beautiful thing about Chuck Berry's playing was it had such an effortless swing," Keith Richards wrote in his memoir, Life. "None of this sweating and grinding away or grimacing, just pure, effortless swing like a lion." During a concert in 1956, Berry was so self-conscious about only having brought one suit that he invented a new stage move "to hide the wrinkles," as he told RS in 1969. That move, the duck walk, also became part of the rock & roll lexicon.

Intentionally or not, Berry also set the template for the rock and roll bad boy beyond his Mann Act conviction. Early in his life, Berry spent three years in reform school for an armed robbery attempt. In 1979, he was indicted for tax evasion and filing false income tax returns and spent three months in jail. (At his sentencing, he burst into tears.) In 1990, he was sued by several women who claimed Berry had videotaped them in the ladies' room in his restaurant in St. Louis. (Berry reached an out-of-court settlement.)

When he was released from a Missouri prison in October 1963 after his Mann Act conviction, Berry was embittered, but he also saw his footprint all over a new generation of bands. The Beach Boys had released their first single, the Berry-influenced "Surfin' Safari," while a new band from England, the Rolling Stones, released Berry's "Come On" as their first single in 1963. At first, Berry picked up where he left off, writing fine new songs like "You Never Can Tell" and "No Particular Place to Go" that held onto his devil-may-care attitude.

In 1966, Berry left Chess, his longtime home, for another label, Mercury, but the result was a series of sub-par albums and weak re-recordings of his hits. (One notable exception: a jam with the Steve Miller Band captured on the 1967 album, Live at the Fillmore Auditorium). In 1969, he returned to Chess — and returned to form — on harder-edged songs like "Tulane," a drug-dealer romp that showed his newfound relevance. In 1972, he scored his first and only Number One pop hit with the novelty song, "My Ding-a-Ling." His last album of original songs, Rock It, was released in 1979.

Berry was a notoriously tough and irascible character offstage. On tour, he long traveled alone, using backup bands hired by the promoters. He demanded payment in advance, a specific kind of amplifier, and a limousine (with no driver) for his shows. In 1986, Richards assembled an all-star backup band (including Eric Clapton, Robert Cray, and sax player Bobby Keys) to play behind Berry in the documentary Hail! Hail! Rock 'n' Roll. Even then, Berry intimidated Richards onstage and off and only showed up on the first day of filming after he demanded an extra cash payment of $25,000. Despite those difficulties, the 1987 movie, directed by Taylor Hackford, became one of rock's most acclaimed concert films.

Up until his death, Berry (who is survived by his wife Themetta "Toddy" Suggs, whom he married in 1948, and four children) continued to perform at clubs and casinos. Once a month, he played at Blueberry Hill, a restaurant and bar in St. Louis. He lived in St. Louis but often spent time at Berry Park, a 155-acre property in nearby Wentzville, Missouri. (As he told Rolling Stone in 2010, he even still mowed the lawn there.) Asked by RS in 1969 about rock's role, Berry said, "Like any music, it brings you together, because if two people like the same music, they can be standing beside each other shaking and they wind up dancing, and that’s a matter of communication ... so I say it's a means of communication, more so than other music, to the kids."