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Show RIVER at the astonished white boy. It occurred to me that I might have been the first white person to ever enter this particular establishment and for a moment I stood there not knowing what to do. Then I recollected that I was in a bar and I stepped up to the counter to order a beer. I actually only got about one step toward the bar when a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and I was yanked out through the door and into the parking lot. It was the guy from the liquor store and his boy. The man was purple with anger. "What the hell are you doing?" I yelled at him. "I told you not to go in there, god dammit, and I meant it," he said. I was pissed off at being yanked around like a duffel bag. "Whaddya mean I can't go in there? What is this, Russia or something? This is still a goddamn free country and I'll go where I goddamn well please!" "You won't go in there," said the old man. He looked like he was verging on a coronary. He turned to the young kid. "Go get the gun," he said. I left. By now I was good and drunk. Back at the Climax I had a lot of company. The place was wall to wall with party-mad drunk Missourians, the band was pounding out fevered country rock, and couples were clinched in lustful embraces across the smoky, crowded dance floor. Women danced on tables. Casualties already littered the floor. It got crazier. At this point my memory begins to fade. The last thing I remember is singing "Proud Mary" with the band, the first public performance in what became a checkered musical career. I actually don't remember singing the song, what I -169- |
