I was always afraid of the hustling gals because of my experience with the chick who pulled her bylow knife on me and stabbed me in the shoulder. Still the whores continued to chase me. Of course I must admit I just couldn't resist letting some of the finer ones catch up with me once in a while.
However, let's get back to the night Mayann and I went out sporting 'em up. After we left Savocas' we went to Spanol's tonk around the corner. As soon as we entered everybody gave us a big hello.
"Where you been keeping yourself?" they all asked Mayann. "You are a sight for sore eyes."
Then they all shouted: "Mother and son are mak ing the rounds tonight. We all ought to have good luck."
"Give me a twenty dollar card," one of the big-shot gamblers hollored to the game keeper. "I feel very, very lucky tonight."
Mother and I did not have a chance to spend much money that night. Everybody kept pouring whiskey down into our stomachs. It was the first time they had ever seen us together.
All the time Mayann kept explaining to me how to hold my liquor. I took it all in and said "Yes, mom's" to everything she told me. I was anxious to learn everything I could. At my boss' joint Henry Matranga asked us to have a drink on the house.
"You have a fine boy," he told Mayann. "He is well liked by everybody who comes to my place. We all predict he will be a very fine musician some day. His heart is in it."
Mayann poked out her chest with pride.
"Thank God for that," she said. "I was never able to give my son a decent education like he deserved. I could see he had talent within him from a wee youngster. But I could not do very much about it, except just pray to the Lord to guide him and help him. And the Lord has answered my prayers greatly. Am I proud of my boy? God in heaven knows I am. And many thanks to you, Mr. Matranga, for letting him work at your place, knowing he did not have the experience he needed. But you tolerated him just the same and the Lord will bless you for it. I shall remember you every night when I say my prayers. With all you people pulling for Louis, the way you all are doing, he just can't miss."
Just then Slippers, the bouncer, came into the bar and yelled: "Hello, Mayann. What in the world are you doing out on the stroll tonight?"
When she told him we were making the rounds he thought it was the cutest thing he had seen in a long time. Then he insisted that we have a drink with him.
By this time my mother and I were getting pretty tight, and we had not visited even half of the joints. But we were determined to make them all; that was our agreement and we intended to stick to it. Besides we were both having a fine time meeting the people who loved us and spoke our language. We knew we were among our people. That was all that mattered. We did not care about the outside world.
Slippers, who should have been in the back room keeping an eye on the bad men, stayed on at the bar with us. He just had to tell Mayann how good I was on that quail.
"Mayann, that boy of yours should really go up North and play with the good horn blowers."
"Thanks, Slippers," Mayann said, downing another drink and stuttering slightly. "Thanks, Slippers. You know … I'm proud of that boy. He's all I got. He and his sister, Mama Lucy. Of course his no good father has never done anything decent for those children. Only their stepfathers. Good thing they had good stepfathers, or else I don't know what those two children would have done."
Mayann downed another drink, and just as she did somebody in the back room shouted:
"Slippers! Slippers. Come real quick. There's a bad man from out of town who won't pay off his debts."
Slippers made one leap to the rear. In less than no time he was running the guy to the door by the seat of his pants. He gave him a punch on the chops, saying: "Get the hell out of here, you black son of a bitch, and don't come back again, ever."
That was that. Nobody dared to mess around with Slippers. He was a good man with a pistol and he knew how to handle his dukes. He could fight fair and he could fight dirty, whichever his victim preferred. But he was as nice a fellow as God ever made. I loved him just as though he had been my father. Whenever I was around fellows like Slippers or Black Benny I felt secure. Just to be in their company was like heaven to me.
After the guy had been thrown out we finished our drinks. At least we tried to finish them for they were lined up like soldiers. We said good night to Matranga and the crowd and were on our merry way to Joe Segretta's at Liberty and Perdido, the street that became so famous that Duke Ellington wrote a tune about it.
Segretta served extract of Jamaica ginger for fifteen cents a bottle. Everybody was buying this jive and adding it to half a glass of water, so Mayann and I joined in. That drink gave you just what you would expect; it knocked you flat on your tail. I could see that Mayann's eyes were getting glassy but she still asked me: "Son, are you all right?"
"Sure, mother. I'm having lots of fun."
"Whenever you get ready to go home just let me know and we will cut out."
For some reason or other I was fresh as a daisy. From the way I was holding up you would have sworn I was immune to the lush. Mother and I had two of those bottles of Jamaica ginger each, and by that time it was getting real late. I could see that mother was getting soused, but I did not want to go home without stopping at Henry Ponce's place across the street. He, as you know, was the good-looking Frenchman of the old Storyville days, and Joe Segretta's competitor. Joe would have rather been bitten by a tiger than see Henry Ponce walk the streets.
Henry Ponce thought a good deal of me and I admired him too. I used to love to see those real beautiful women of all colors who came to the Third Ward especially to see him. Of course they did not like the neighborhood he was in, after he had been run out of Storyville, but they loved him. These women used to tip us plenty to play the tunes they liked. There is no doubt about it, Ponce was a mighty man. When you are talking about real operators who really played it cool, think of Henry Ponce.
The minute mother and I stepped into his joint he spied me and ran out from behind the bar to greet me. He did not know Mayann, so I introduced her.
"I am so very glad to meet you," Ponce said right away. "You are the mother of a real good boy. He has nice manners, he works with all his heart and he has never given me an ounce of trouble. I am certainly glad to meet you. Your boy is ambitious and he is anxious to get somewhere. I watched him closely when he was working for me from eight in the evening to four in the morning. I knew that he used to work all day long at the coal yard. I could not understand how he could keep it up. He is serious about his career, I want you to understand that."
The bartender brought us a round of drinks and we downed these too. Then the three pieces which had replaced our band started jumping a tune and Mayann and I danced. I noticed she was yawning, but I did not say a word.
After the dance was over we went back to our table to finish our drink. When we got up to go, Mayann started over to say good night to Henry Ponce. She was weaving a little and after she had taken a half dozen steps'she fell flat on her face. Not realizing I had had as many as she, I went over to pick her up. As I leaned over I fell right on top of her. Everybody in the place broke out laughing. My mother had a good sense of humor, drunk or sober, and she joined in with the laughter. Everybody was in stitches, including me.
Stepfather Gabe was standing across the street at Joe Segretta's corner. When he had gone home he had found we were out and he was looking for us when somebody told him to go over to Ponce's place. When he saw what had happened he joined in the laughter and picked us up. He straightened Mayann's hat and hair as best he could, and led us to the door with a big smile on his face for everybody. He stopped to shake hands with Ponce and tell him what a swell gentleman he was. He thanked him for giving me a chance to play when an older musician would have given better service. Ponce told Gabe that an older musician did not have what this youngster had – sincerity and a kind of creative power which the world would eventually recognize. Gabe did not understand all those big words, but he thanked Ponce and went out supporting both mother and me with his strong arms.