Before I lucked up on store trousers I used to wear my "stepfathers'" trousers, rolling them up from the bottom so that they looked like plus fours or knickers.
Mayann had enough "stepfathers" to furnish me with plenty of trousers. All I had to do was turn my back and a new "pappy" would appear. Some of them were fine guys, but others were low lives, particularly one named Albert. Slim was not much better, but the worst of all was Albert. One day Albert and my mother were sitting on the bank of the old basin canal near Galves Street quarreling about something while I was playing near by. Suddenly he called her a "black bitch" and knocked her into the water with a blow in her face. Then he walked off without even looking back. My God, was I frantic! While Mayann was screaming in the water, with her face all bloody, I began to holler for help at the top of my voice. People ran up and pulled her out, but what a moment that was! I have never forgiven that man, and if I ever see him again I will kill him. However, I have been in New Orleans many times since that day, and I have never run into him. Old timers tell me he is dead.
The nicest of my stepfathers – I can remember at least six – was Gabe. He was not as highly educated or as smart as the others, but he had good common sense. That was what counted for me in those days. I liked stepfather Gabe a lot. As for stepfather Slim, he was not a bad guy, but he drank too much. One day he would be nice, and the next he would beat Mayann up. Never when I was there, however. I never forgot the experience with stepfather Albert, and I would never let anyone lay a hand on my mother without doing my best to help her.
When Mayann took up with Slim I was getting to be a big boy. Everyday there were fights, fights between whores, toughs, and even children. Some house in the district was always being torn down, and plenty of bricks were handy. Whenever two guys got into a quarrel they would run to the nearest rubbish pile and start throwing bricks at each other. Seeing these fights going on all the time, we kids adopted the same method.
One morning at ten o'clock Slim and Mayann had started to fight at Gravier and Franklin Streets. While they were fighting they went down Franklin until they reached Kid Brown's honky-tonk. The porter was sweeping the place out and the door was open. Slim and Mayann stumbled, still fighting, into the bar, around the piano and on the dance floor in the rear. While this was going on a friend of mine named Cocaine Buddy rushed up to me as I was leaving school during recess.
"Hurry up, Dipper (that was my nickname – short for Dippermouth, from the piece called Dippermouth Blues)," he said, "some guy is beating your mother up."
I dropped my books and tore off to the battle. When I got to Kid Brown's they were still at it fighting their way out into the street again.
"Leave my mother alone. Leave my mother alone," I shouted.
Since he did not stop an idea popped into my mind: get some bricks. It did not take me a minute, and when I started throwing the bricks at him I did not waste a one. As a pitcher Satchel Paige had nothing on me.
"Run like hell! Slim will jump you," everybody cried.
There was no danger. One of the bricks caught Slim in the side and he doubled up. He was not going to run after me or anyone else. His pain got worse and he had to be taken to the Charity Hospital near by. I have never seen Slim again. He was a pretty good blues player, but aside from that we did not have much in common. And I did not particularly like his style.
As I grew up around Liberty and Perdido I observed everything and everybody. I loved all those people and they loved me. The good ones and the bad ones all thought that Little Louis (as they called me) was O.K. I stayed in my place, I respected everybody and I was never rude or sassy. Mayann and grandmother taught me that. Of course my father did not have time to teach me anything; he was too busy chas ing chippies.
My real dad was a sharp man, tall and handsome and well built. He made the chicks swoon when he marched by as the grand marshal in the Odd Fellows parade. I was very proud to see him in his uniform and his high hat with the beautiful streamer hanging down by his side. Yes, he was a fine figure of a man, my dad. Or at least that is the way he seemed to me as a kid when he strutted by like a peacock at the head of the Odd Fellows parade.
When Mayann was living with stepfather Tom he was working at the DeSoto Hotel on Barrone and Perdido Streets. When he came home he brought with him a lot of "broken arms" which were the left overs from the tables he served. From them Mayann would fix a delicious lunch for me which I took to school when her work kept her away from home all day long. When I undid these wonders in the schoolyard, all the kids would gather around me like hungry wolves. It did not take them long to discover what I had: the best steaks, chops, chicken, eggs, a little of everything that was good.
One day while I was eating my lunch the crowd of kids gathered around me suddenly backed away and scattered in all directions. Wondering what was going on, I raised my eyes and saw One Eye Bud and his gang, the same gang I had the fight with on the day mama sent me to the grocery on Rampart Street. I did not show any signs of being afraid and waited for them to come up close to me. I expected there would be trouble, but instead one of them spoke to me politely.
"Hello, Dipper."
"Hello, boys. How are you?" I answered as though I was not nervous. "Have a piece of my sandwich?"
They turned into my lunch as though they had not eaten for ages. That did not worry me. Bad as they were I was glad to see them enjoy themselves. Afterwards we became good friends and they never bothered me again. Not only that, but they saw to it that no one else bothered me either. They were tough kids, all right. And to think that they thought I was tough still tickles me pink right to this day.
Old Mrs. Martin was the caretaker of the Fisk School, and along with her husband she did a good job. They were loved by everybody in the neighborhood. Their family was a large one, and two of the boys turned out to be good and real popular musicians. Henry Martin was the drummer in the famous Kid Dry's band which Mrs. Cole engaged for her lawn parties. She ran them two or three times a week, and it was almost impossible to get in if Kid Ory's orchestra was playing. Kootchy Martin was a fine pianist, and the father played the violin beautifully. I do not remember the father very well because he left New Orleans when I was very young. He was involved in the terrible race riot in East Saint Louis and has never been heard from since.
My friend was Walter Martin. I got to know him very well because we used to work together in the good old honky-tonk days. Walter was a fine guy, and he had one of the nicest dispositions that's ever been in any human being.
Mrs. Martin had three beautiful daughters with light skins of the Creole type: Orleania, Alice and Wilhelmina. The two oldest married. I was in love with Wilhelmina, but the poor child died before I got up the nerve to tell her. She was so kind and sweet that she had loads of admirers. I had an inferiority complex and felt that I was not good enough for her. I would give anything to be able to see her again. When she smiled at me the whole world would light up. Old Mrs. Martin is still living, as spry as ever at eighty, God bless her. She always had some kind of consolation for the underdog who would rap at her door and she could always find a bite to eat for him somewhere.
Across the street from where we lived was Elder Cozy's church. He was the most popular preacher in the neighborhood and he attracted people from other parts of the city as well. I can still remember the night mama took me to his church. Elder Cozy started to get warmed up and then he hit his stride. It was not long before he had the whole church rocking. Mama got so happy and so excited that she knocked me off the bench as she shouted and swayed back and forth. She was a stout woman and she became so excited that it took six of the strongest brothers to grab hold of her and pacify her. I was just a kid and I did not dig at that time. I laughed myself silly, and when mama and I reached home she gave me hell.