Horseshoes, Cowsocks & Duckfeet by Baxter Black

Author:Baxter Black [Black, Baxter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307420923
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Published: 2007-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

I spent two months livin’ in Kansas City when I was thirty-five. I’d grown up in a small town in a county that was 65 percent Spanish-speaking and was not really aware of racial divisiveness. Kansas City at that time was still healing old wounds from the race riots. When I strolled into that blues nightclub, I had no idea I was an integration pioneer. Funny what innocent ignorance can do.

WILLIE’S TOTAL EXPERIENCE LOUNGE

Prejudice is a funny thing. When a city slicker or a dude comes meanderin’ into a Montana bar in Glasgow, he’s liable to get a lot of hard stares. But, I’m here to tell ya, when the shoe’s on the other foot, it can be mighty uncomfortable.

I set out one night in Kansas City to find one of them “down-home guitar blues pickers” that I had read about in the Sunday paper. I was drivin’ around Saturday night lookin’ for Walter’s Crescendo Lounge. I had some ribs at Money’s on Prospect and asked directions. The feller told me not to go over there after dark. Then, after thinkin’ about it, he scribbled his name and phone number on a piece of paper and said, “When you git in trouble, have ’em call me.” Nice of him, I thought.

Somehow I never found Walter’s, but at the corner of Thirty-ninth and Jackson I spied Willie’s Total Experience Lounge. I recognized the name from the paper, so I went in.

I was dressed normal: hat, jeans, and boots. The bartender was a lady named Bert. She served me a scotch and cream soda.

I sat at a table in front of the band. As the clientele came in, they all sat around by the walls. Kind of like they were circlin’ me. Nobody said much and they weren’t real friendly. Finally the bandleader, Freddy, came over to my table and asked me, “Hey, man, what are you doin’ here?”

I told him I heard this was the best music in Kansas City and I came to find out!

Well he must have thought the same thing ’cause it sure tickled him! He couldn’t do enough to make me feel at home. His sister was the waitress, and he told her to make sure my grape Nehi never went dry.

By then, I “wuz smarter’n a tree full o’ owls, ten foot tall, and bulletproof!” But I couldn’t get nobody to dance with me! Eventually this lady named Elizabeth consented. She must have figured I wasn’t so bad after all ’cause she sat at my table and invited Louise and Wilma to join us. The four of us danced until closin’ time. It was a fine evening, and although they didn’t take to me at first, they must have decided that cowboys aren’t from outer space, just different.

I remember that little lesson when I see a kid wearin’ a headband and sandals in a cowboy bar. I always try to give ’im the benefit of the doubt. After all, he might be friskin’ customers at the

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