◆ SpookStack

found that-on n this scene he was a hick again. Shorty for everything 1 could think of when he got the spray going and staried noap-lathering my head. “The first ume's abvays worst. You gel used to # better. Yow took it real good, homeboy. You got a good conk.” When Shorty let me stand ap end see im the mirror, my scalp still flamed, tat this time not as bad: I could bear it. The murror reflected Shorty behind me. We that Vaseline, | had this thick, smooth sheen of shining red hair—-real red—and straight as any white man’s! Shorty would take me to groovy, fran- tic sornes (parties) in different chicks’ and cats’ pads. With the Eights and the juke- box down mellow, we “blew gage” (smoked marijuana) or “juiced back” (drank Liquor). The chicks J met were Gine as May wine, the cats were hop wt all happenings. (That's just to give a teste of ‘the slang that was talked by everyone whom IT respected mm those dayz) Id msoquired tht fashionable ghetic adora- Mments, My 2001 suits and a conk; I hed begun drinking iquor, smoking cigarettes and reefers, ated | was absorbing a lot of the “hip” dialogue. Beacon HIll chick 1 had to quit the shorshine hustle be- cause I liked 16 be on the Roseland dance floor when the bands were playing, but Ella helped me get a job as a soda jerk in the Townsend Drug Store, two blocks from ber house. That was when I met my first white woman. I'm going to call her Sophia. for which | have my own private reasons. | met her at the Rosetand Ball. room, When } caught this fine blonde’s eyes, 1 just stopped. Froze! This one I'd arver pecn among dw white girks that came to the Roseland bieck dances. She was pving me that “[-go-for-you"” took She didn't dance well, at least not by Negro standards. But who cared? I could feel the staring eyes of other coupies around us. We talked. 7 told her she was a good dancer, and asked her where she'd learned. 1 was trying to find cut why she was there. Most white women who came to you didn't see Aer kind. She had vague answers for everything. And then | know the asked in that cool Laureslacal! sound of hers would } like to go for a drive. } just couldn’: betieve my luck. Wowk! 17k was just foo much! For the next five years—into 146, when I went to prison—Sophia was my main white woman. For two of the years she stayed single. for the other three she was married 16 a white man, for con venience. | soon found out from her, different parts'of it at different times, that ee te ee a ol _ she wat the oktest of & well-oll divorosd Beosion woman's three daughters. Sophia would pick me up. | took her to the dances, but mostly to the bars around Roxbury. We drove all over. Sometimes it would be nearly daylight when she let fe out in front of Elia‘s. She was ontranced with me. Auto- matically, | began to see less of Shorty. When 1 did see him and the gang. he would gibe, “Man, [ had to comb the burrs out of homeboy's head; now, looka here, he's got a Beacon Hill chick.” Meanwhile 1 Jef the drugstore and soon found me a new job. I was a busboy as eh iow at int Parker Howse. After oniy a a work expecting 1o get fired, | was so late. Bul the whole kitchen crew was too excited and upset to notice. J picked up their talk—Japanese planes had just bombed somewhere called Pear] Harbor. ~ aa tt ee a - weeks, one Sunday morning I ran in to ‘You wouldn't have believed it was me. marine sailors, chauffeurs for white fami lies, salesmen and different hustlers. Anyway, al the railroad-personne! hir- ing office down on Dover Strect, a tired- much. Around the big, huxurious-looking circular bar probably were 30 or 40 men, red conk made natural, } know. . My musical friends were of the caliber of Duke Ellington’: great drummer, Sonny Greer, and that great personality with the violin, Ray Nance. Ray's the one who sang that wild “scat™ style, that “bloo-blop-ble-blop-bla-bloo-blam- bhm—" Kemember that? And people Kke Coote Williams: a Bittle later on Pear! Bailey sang with Cootie, And Eddie (Mr. Cleanhead) Vinson: in the Braddock he'd kid me about Ais conk-—he had nothing up there ban skin. He was hitting the heights then with his Hey, Preny Manne, Chunk Me in Your Big Braz: Bed. knew Cy Oliver; he was married to a kind of of red girl, and they ved op on | © EEO!