It was 1958, the Saturday before Easter
and my friend Ted and I had made our way
to New York City.
We were 16, but both of us were pretty big, and we had fake ID’s if we needed
them, and the drinking age in New
York was 18. The rest is history.
We had a great time, and even got to the
Village Gate to see Brownie McGhee and Sonny Terry on stage. It was remarkable
in many ways, including experiencing
going to a bar at the 8:00 a.m. opening. I’ve never done that one since. We
watched (and drank) with what I thought of as “professional” drinkers, I guess
alcoholics by today’s standards. I do remember we had a good time, no cars were
involved, and we all lived to tell about it.
However, the most memorable event to me,
those 55 years ago, was walking in Times Square at about 8:00 p.m. and there
was a man in a suit and tie, with the “good book” held high above his head,
screaming, with a Southern accent,” What are you doing, out on the streets of
New York, the night before Easter, without a bible in your hands?”
So wherever you may be, as you read this,
in that crazy man’s honor, let me ask you, “What were you doing, wherever you
may be, the day before Easter, without a bible in your hand?” (Accent implied)
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