Sunday, August 27, 2017

Not Everyone Has Heard This Story---kkk back east over thirty years ago.

So, I was heading toward my big slam into the earth, nose diving in life.  Drinking days.  And I was playing harmonica for Marvin's Rockabillys.  Exceporot he stuck letters on his vintage Les Paul misspelling his name.  The klittle raised aluminum mailbox letters spelled out, "Mavrin's Rockabillys".

I did not say anything for a couple of months, if I recall correctly.  When I did, it broke my heart because he never noticed.  I ruined his bliss by compromising his ignorance of that spelling fact.  It is not always noble to enlighten the ignorant if there's no need.  That's my new stance on that issue.

One time we had a gig at the Men's Gun Club of Whitset (NC).  It was this sort of clubhouse, dance hall out in the sticks.  Outside of Greensboro, Burlington, outside of everywhere.   I thought people were just ribbing me when they said they thought it was a klan place.

It was unimaginable to me that people would still be that nuts.   They were, and I guess a few still are.

The stage had a big wooden cross on the wall behind the stage.   Red lightbulbs, maybe 40 watters, running vertically and horizontally to spice up the cross.  On one side stretched the American flag.  On the other, the stars and bars of the Confederacy.

What a bizarre gig. I think Mavrin may have been one of them.  It was a great dance.   All the underage klan girls were trying to use me to get caught right there with their pants down.  To keep one of them pacified, I had to set a time and place.  And I did, in another town, and I never showed up.

No one said or did anything racist, but I am pretty sure they would have been problematic if any black musicians sat in or danced with their aggressive, under-age daughters.  Girls like that are either hard core rebelling, or a bit too close to kin.   Precocious in an idiot savant sort of way.
I was so much wanting Greensboro to be perfect, or at least not mean and backward.  I was naive.  And nuts.  Still am.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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