Chapter 1: Robert Kelly Autobiography

Almost nearly, Not quite hardly

Dedicated to my Grandfather---Carly Ore. I lived with him during the summers from my 14th to my 18th year. He was a carpenter and I worked as his helper. I didn’t know that I was learning so much until years later when all of the skills that I learned, from him, helped me to completely remodel an old house, with the help of my Son who was learning the same skills from me.

Chapter One- Riverside

The first thing that I remember, about growing up in Texas was the warm summer nights. My Father and I would lie on a home made quilt, he called a pallet, in the back yard and listen to the Friday Night Fights on the Radio. This was 1940 and I was 5 so there was no TV and no Air Conditioning and only a few mosquitoes. This was what I waited for all week long. Not that I was such a big Boxing fan but my Dad was and it was a chance to be with him. He had done some amateur boxing in his youth (local Ft. Worth Golden Gloves) and he would explain the finesse and agility it took to be a boxer. He was actually a small man, only 5’ 7" and only weighed about 140 but to me he was a giant and I listened to his every word. His favorite boxer was Willie Pep (a small man, also), I do remember that, but some of the others were just names that went past me and I was only interested in the conversation. My Dad was a very intelligent man even thou he only went through Grade School before he had to quit to help make a living for his Family. He eventually got his High School diploma and some college credits by going to night school after he was already an adult. I remember him telling me that if a person was only book smart and didn’t have any "horse sense" then he was just an educated idiot. I didn’t realize that he was actually brain washing me to get an education, but to keep my feet on the ground and apply what I learned to everyday situations. He would say, "We are all a product of our surroundings" and he instilled that in me. His idea, for me, was, I only finished school when I graduated from College----nothing less. So, I didn’t think that I had any other option. In other words, I couldn’t quit school after High School, I had to go to College, and I did----and I graduated---and went on to Graduate school. I was the first person from either side of my family to have a Degree from College.

Our small house in Riverside, just outside of Fort Worth, was a mansion compared to what my Mother and Father had lived in when they were children. It only had a small living room, kitchen, bath, one tiny bedroom, and I had the screened in back porch for my room----no windows, just screens and some tarpaulin drapes that pulled up and down with strings for when it rained or was cold. It had all the modern conveniences though, hot and cold running water, linoleum on the kitchen floor, and something that my Grandmother didn’t have for years----an indoor toilet and tub. I do remember that we walked quite a bit of the time, even though we had a car, but the car was only used for emergencies and work---after all gas was 15 cents a gallon. This phrase, "Give me a Dollars worth of Regular", was the only words I remember hearing at the Service Station, as it was called.

Almost every Saturday night, our house was the gathering place for Family and Friends. Mainly because they couldn’t afford to do anything else, but also, it was a place that was warm and friendly and my Mother and Father both encouraged it. Almost everyone in my family was musically inclined. They either played an instrument, or would Sing or Dance----or play, sing and dance. I learned to play Sax when I was 5, Guitar and Bass at 10, and I thought that everyone in the world loved music as much as my family did. My Mother and her two Sisters would sing Andrew Sisters Songs, my two Uncles would play guitars and sing, and my Mom and Dad who were "Adagio" (acrobatic) dancers before I was born would "cut a mean rug"---that’s dancing---just in case you don’t know. They were not professional, but just loved the "get-togethers" as they called them. Besides all that, they furnished their own entertainment.

Little did I know, at the time, that this influence would affect my whole life and making music was so much a part of my childhood that I would eventually become a full fledged entertainer as a profession. I don’t mean just fooling around, I mean, it was my only means of employment for more than 40 years.

This was a very happy time for me. I had to walk about a mile to school but I had three other school buddies that walked with me. I had lots of oak trees to climb, a railroad track to walk, and a never tiring, constant playmate, Blondie---my cocker spaniel dog.

I didn’t realize or care that my Father was only making $11 a week and we were just barely getting by. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, as far as I was concerned, because everyone that I knew, or came in contact with was pleasant, happy and enjoying life.

Chapter 2- World War II

In an instant, my whole world changed. Of course, I wasn’t the only one affected by Dec. 7th 1941, but at the time, I felt like all the weight of the world had been piled onto my family and me. My Father was telling me that he might have to go fight in the War. My Mother was thinking about getting a "Rosie, the Riverter" job. We had ration stamps for gas. Everyone was listening to the radio, and not for boxing matches but to see what was happening with the "Japs" and the "German" conflicts.

So, as a 7 year old, when my Father said that he had to leave to go to War---I don’t think that I truly understood the whole situation, but I did know that my life was not going to be the same for a long time----and it wasn’t.

By 1944, I was not listening to my Father. I was listening to my Mother read letters to me, from my Father. He had been trained for driving an LST, a small boat used for amphibian landings in the Navy. But, when he got to the Hawaiian Islands and they were going to ship him out, they didn’t have enough men to type the orders so he volunteered to be a Yeoman. This was the designation given to a navy typist and he stayed in Oahu, Hawaii for the duration of the war and never had to go to the fighting. Needless to say, He really couldn’t type very fast, but as he said, "He was serving his country and it was better than getting shot or killed".

My Mother did get a job driving a parts truck for a wholesale Auto Supply---it wasn’t very glamourous but there weren’t enough men left to do all the jobs so the women had to take over for them while the war was going on. As for me, I was alone quite a bit. My Father and Uncles were all away fighting the war. My Mother and Aunts were all working at "Homeland Helper" jobs and there were no weekend parties at our house. Up to now, this was the most traumatic time of my short life.

My only salvation was, I did have my dog Blondie. Its amazing what adventures a boy and his dog can have when there isn’t anything else to do. We lived out in the country with very few neighbors. There was lots of sandy loam soil and too many Post Oak Trees to count, so I had dug a bunch of holes into the ground and Blondie and I would play Army. On the radio, I had heard them talk about "fox holes" and how the soldiers had to hide in them to protect themselves from the enemy. I would put a note around Blondie’s neck and make her stay in a "Fox Hole" and then I would run to another one, quite a distance away, and she couldn’t see where I went. Then, I would call to her and she would follow my scent and come to where I was hiding. I would "play like" she was the messenger dog from headquarters and take the message from her neck and then we would defeat the enemy----of course.

When my nearest neighbor buddies could come over we played some inventive games. No, We didn’t play stick ball. There were only 4 of us. That doesn’t make for a really interesting match up---2 against 2 for a ball game. Russel Nickerson lived just a few blocks away, Bill Plemons a few blocks further and Dickie Richards even further. There were no fire hydrants for us to unscrew and play in the water. There were no peers for us to learn from. So, We were just on our own to find or "make up" something that was fun for boys 7, 8, and 9 years old. Our Fathers were off to war, our Mothers were working, and there were no older kids in the neighborhood, as far as I knew, so we just let our imagination go wild.

First, we would try to find a penny or a washer or anything small round and metal. If we could find something appropriate, we would walk down to the railroad track that was about a mile from my house thru the trees and then we would put the object onto the track and wait for the train to come by. Sometimes it was a long wait. Then, after the train passed, we would try to find the flattened object, which sometimes took a long time. That was it. I don’t remember what we did with the flattened penny or why that was so interesting but I remember that we thought it was difinitely something.

Every Saturday in the late afternoon we would walk to the public park. It was about 2 or 3 miles from our house and the park would set up a portable screen----which looked huge to me, but was probably only about the size of a big 50" screen TV’s of today----and they would show a cartoon and one segment of a continued serial. Sometimes, it was a Buck Rogers, Science Fiction, or a Bob Steele Western or a Tarzan episode.

This gave us food for thought so the Tarzan movie gave us our favorite game.

There were just thousands of Post Oak trees but no vines, so we would try to find just the right size of the small tree so when we would climb up to the top that it would just barely hold us up. Then, if you moved your body just right, you could make the tree start to sway. If you were good enough you could actually make it swing back and forth so much that it would get close enough to the ground where you could jump off without hurting yourself. This was fun for about a week---but then we augmented the effort. Each one of us would get into a tree close to the other and then try to make the trees sway close enough together to grab ahold of each other. If we could touch our hands, that was great. The crowning blow was when you could hold onto each other, with your hands, long enough to transfer from your own tree to the other tree and vice versa. If you both could trade trees then that was like winning the Super Bowl---at least for us at the time it was.

Another variation on the swinging in the trees was jumping onto a bag that we had hung from a limb of one of the biggest trees.

We built a platform about 10 feet up on the side of the trunk of a big tree with boards attached to the tree to use as a ladder to get up onto the platform. About 10 feet out on one of the big limbs we had attached a rope and we attached a sack of old clothes onto the rope. Actually, we used a burlap bag (in Texas we called it a Tow Sack).

We could pull the Tow Sack up to the platform and then hold onto it and jump off of the platform and you could swing back and forth for a long time. One of our games was to see who could make the biggest jump to catch the bag and still hold onto it. We got pretty good and could make some long leaps and still hang on. One day, I was going to show up all the others so I said that I could jump all the way from the platform to the bag without even swinging it.

Now, you have to visualize this, because it was about 10 feet to the bag, and it wasn’t swinging just sitting still.

Well, I jumped from the 10 ft. high platform and stretched as far as I could reach and I got my legs close enough to the bag to touch it. But, my body was way behind my feet so even thou I touched the bag, I couldn’t hold onto the rope because I never got there. Needless to say, the forces of gravity immediately took my butt and back to the ground so I landed flat of my back. This of course knocked the wind out of me and I was lying on the ground gasping for breath but all I could say was---ughhhhhhh.

My friends went to get my Mother and told her that I had killed myself on the Swing. By the time they got back I had finally gotten a few breaths into my lungs but I still couldn’t move. I was sure that I was going to be paralyzed

the rest of my life because nothing would work. I could see and hear but I couldn’t move. When I finally got enough oxygen into my lungs and my nerve endings got some blood back into them, I was OK, just bruised and demoralized for my stupidity. Youth is great, huh.

High School Senior Trip

My brain has a funny way of remembering things. Some are quite vivid, others sketchy (until reminded or jogged into focus), then others are a complete "Blur". Most of the road miles that I put on during my 1964 to 1980 days with Expression fit into the "Blur" category. But, before that, sometimes it is a combination.

In most of the small communities in Texas, all of the graduating seniors get to go on a short vacation. Not necessarily a reward, but more like a final time for all of them to be together before they go their separate ways in life, and they call it a senior trip. My senior trip from Olney High School was definitely a spectacular experience that I will never forget. It was most enlightening and unforgettable. Galveston, Texas was about 350 south on the Texas Gulf Coast and had a fine reputation of being a fun vacation spot with lots of beaches, excellent hotels and a wide open section of town called "Post Office Street".

(That's probably the main reason that all of the senior guys Voted to go to Galveston).

I remember that we left Olney, Texas and there were about 40 of us crammed on a Bus----but can't remember if it was a Greyhound or a Charter. I took my guitar so we carried our own entertainment. Joyce Pollard, Marilyn Larimore, and I sang a lot on the bus and in our Motel room when we got to Galveston. Sorry, I can't remember the name of the place where we stayed but it was close to the beach and the girls were in their rooms and the guys were in theirs---most of the time. There was lots of beer. The guys bought it (we all chipped in) but it sounded better to tell the girls that it was stolen---that way we didn't have to take the blame for buying it---or something stupid like that. (like stealing it was better than buying it----duuuh). We were all having a good time with nothing drastic or damaging really happening----even thou we were "partying hard". No sex as far as I knew---remember this was 1957 and small town Baptist Communities didn't allow that.

However, the visit to Post Office Street (two consecutive nights by the way) did make a vivid and positive impression on me, this very young 17 year old kid. We (three or four of us, I don't remember exactly who. I'm sure it was Wilbur Kunkel, and probably Troy Rogers and others. If he was with us Bodie York (but I think he was a year behind us in school). Anyway a bunch of us guys went to Post Office street and walked up and down the street just looking at the outside of all the big two story houses with all the Red Lights and Signs and loud music and we didn't know if we could get in. Finally, after about 30 minutes of that, I noticed a couple of sailors that just walked into one of the Houses and I thought they looked as young as I was, so if they can get in, then, so could we and we should try it. So, here were these 17 and 18 year old "boys" from Olney, Texas going into their first "House of Ill Repute". Come to find out----it was a lot more than a "Whore House". In all of the houses, there was a big bar, gambling with Slots and Black Jack Table games, Jukebox or live music, a dance floor, and lots of very attractive women. The first one that we went into was by far the worst one that we visited. Loud drunk older guys at the bar, bad music on the jukebox and the women were about my Mothers age so we didn’t stay there. After trying a few more, we finally went into one about in the Middle of Post Office Street and it had reasonably priced drinks (about a dollar for beer, and $1.50 for mixed drinks) and really nice music on the jukebox. Lots of old R&B music that I loved to dance to. ( The Clovers, Drifters, Joe Turner, Platters, Ruth Brown, etc). We ordered a drink and were quite surprised that they didn't even ask for an I.D., just money for the drinks. We sat there for awhile and sort of took in the sights so we could try to "fit in" to an atmosphere that we were definitely not accustomed to. Then, I noticed a really nice looking "lady" swing dancing and she was a terrific dancer. I had learned to dance from my Mom and my Aunt Oneita, so I loved to dance. I knew that she was older than I was, but she was really nice looking and had a beautiful body---not too big and not too small but just right. To give you something to visualize---my idea at the time was that Marilyn Monroe was the most beautiful woman in the world. (I didn't know that at the time she was 26 and 9 years older than me) and this "Woman" was just as pretty but with dark hair and had the same kind of body and was younger than Marilyn. This would make her probably about 22 or 23 and that to me was an "Older Woman". Now back to the story, I had a couple of beers and decided to ask her to dance. It was a match made in heaven. That night, I don't think that Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers could have done better "Swing Dancing" than we did. The kind of dancing we called the "Push". It was later classified as the West Coast Swing. She could follow anything that I did and put some things that I had never seen into her routine and it fit perfectly with what I was doing. I was completely swept off my feet. ( I was a Singer and Songwriter even at the age of 17 but I didn't actually include Her influence on me into my songs until the year 2000 when I wrote a couple of R&B dance songs called "Do it, Do it, Do it" and "She was Shuckin' and Jivin'"). I had two more beers and bought her a few drinks. After a few more dances, she said that we should go up to her room. I must have had $20 dollars because that was what it cost me, however it was the fastest, most enjoyable and definitely the most educational $20 that I have ever spent in my whole life. She was very perceptive because when we finished she ask if that was my first time, and, of course, I hesitated a second, and ask if it was that obvious. She just smiled and said that it was rather quick but for me to not worry about it. We went back downstairs and had another drink. She asked me if I would come back the next night because she had enjoyed dancing with me. I told her that I was just visiting for a few days and I would try. (I was embarrassed to say that I was on my Senior Trip). I did go back the next night, needless to say. We danced and danced but I told her that I actually didn't have $20 for the Upstairs. She said for me to follow her up there anyway and I did. We kissed---which she said she usually didn't do with "patrons" as she called them. She said that she was going to give me a little advise and instructions that would be useful in my future. She took off her clothes and told me to do the same. She then proceeded to show me what felt good to a woman when a man gives her oral sex. I was in Sex Education on a first hand basis---or should I say first "face" basis. Yes, I had graduated from High School but this was the most titillating education class that I would ever attend. Nothing in College or Graduate School would ever elevate to this same criteria and to this day over 50 years later, I remember this event as if it was yesterday.

When I got ready to leave that night, she said that I could stay with her and she would buy me clothes and give me money to spend, if I ever wanted to come back.

It didn't feel like she was just feeling sorry for me or feeding me a line of bull. I think that she just enjoyed the Dancing and my company. Maybe she was just lonely and she could mold this impressionable "kid" into whatever she wanted---either way---I thought about it, but decided that living with a prostitute did not fulfill my ambitions at the time. As an afterthought, I have often wondered what it would have been like just to try it for awhile. It might have added volumes to my song writing skills. Sadly, I remember all of this, but I can't remember her name. (Even that sounds like a good title for a song)

High School Senior Trip

My brain has a funny way of remembering things. Some are quite vivid, others sketchy (until reminded or jogged into focus),

then others are a complete "Blur". Most of the road miles

that I put on during my 1964 to 1980 days with Expression fit into the "Blur" category. But, before that, sometimes it is a combination.

In most of the small communities in Texas, all of the graduating seniors get to go on a short vacation. Not necessarily a reward, but more like a final time for all of them to be together before they go their separate ways in life, and they call it a senior trip. My senior trip from Olney High School was definitely a spectacular experience that I will never forget. It was most enlightening and unforgettable. Galveston, Texas was about 350 south on the Texas Gulf Coast and had a fine reputation of being a fun vacation spot with lots of beaches, excellent hotels and

a wide open section of town called "Post Office Street".

(That's probably the main reason that all of the senior guys

Voted to go to Galveston).

I remember that we left Olney, Texas and there were about 40 of us crammed on a Bus----but can't remember if it was a Greyhound or a Charter. I took my guitar so we carried our own entertainment. Joyce Pollard, Marilyn Larimore, and I sang a lot on the bus and in our Motel room when we got to Galveston. Sorry, I can't remember the name of the place where we stayed but it was close to the beach and the girls were in their rooms and the guys were in theirs---most of the time. There was lots of beer. The guys bought it (we all chipped in) but it sounded better to tell the girls that it was stolen---that way we didn't have to take the blame for buying it---or something stupid like that. (like stealing it was better than buying it----duuuh). We were all having a good time with nothing drastic or damaging really happening----even thou we were "partying hard". No sex as far as I knew---remember this was 1957 and small town Baptist Communities didn't allow that.

However, the visit to Post Office Street (two consecutive nights by the way) did make a vivid and positive impression on me, this very young 17 year old kid. We (three or four of us, I don't remember exactly who. I'm sure it was Wilbur Kunkel, and probably Troy Rogers and others. If he was with us Bodie York (but I think he was a year behind us in school). Anyway a bunch of us guys went to Post Office street and walked up and down the street just looking at the outside of all the big two story houses with all the Red Lights and Signs and loud music and we didn't know if we could get in. Finally, after about 30 minutes of that, I noticed a couple of sailors that just walked into one of the Houses and I thought they looked as young as I was, so if they can get in, then, so could we and we should try it. So, here were these 17 and 18 year old "boys" from Olney, Texas going into their first "House of Ill Repute". Come to find out----it was a lot more than a "Whore House". In all of the houses, there was a big bar, gambling with Slots and Black Jack Table games, Jukebox or live music, a dance floor, and lots of very attractive women. The first one that we went into was by far the worst one that we visited. Loud drunk older guys at the bar, bad music on the jukebox and the women were about my Mothers age so we didn’t stay there. After trying a few more, we finally went into one about in the Middle of Post Office Street and it had reasonably priced drinks (about a dollar for beer, and $1.50 for mixed drinks) and really nice music on the jukebox. Lots of old R&B music that I loved to dance to. ( The Clovers, Drifters, Joe Turner, Platters, Ruth Brown, etc). We ordered a drink and were quite surprised that they didn't even ask for an I.D., just money for the drinks. We sat there for awhile and sort of took in the sights so we could try to "fit in" to an atmosphere that we were definitely not accustomed to. Then, I noticed a really nice looking "lady" swing dancing and she was a terrific dancer. I had learned to dance from my Mom and my Aunt Oneita, so I loved to dance. I knew that she was older than I was, but she was really nice looking and had a beautiful body---not too big and not too small but just right. To give you something to visualize---my idea at the time was that Marilyn Monroe was the most beautiful woman in the world. (I didn't know that at the time she was 26 and 9 years older than me) and this "Woman" was just as pretty but with dark hair and had the same kind of body and was younger than Marilyn. This would make her probably about 22 or 23 and that to me was an "Older Woman". Now back to the story, I had a couple of beers and decided to ask her to dance. It was a match made in heaven. That night, I don't think that Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers could have done better "Swing Dancing" than we did. The kind of dancing we called the "Push". It was later classified as the West Coast Swing. She could follow anything that I did and put some things that I had never seen into her routine and it fit perfectly with what I was doing. I was completely swept off my feet. ( I was a Singer and Songwriter even at the age of 17 but I didn't actually include Her influence on me into my songs until the year 2000 when I wrote a couple of R&B dance songs called "Do it, Do it, Do it" and "She was Shuckin' and Jivin'"). I had two more beers and bought her a few drinks. After a few more dances, she said that we should go up to her room. I must have had $20 dollars because that was what it cost me, however it was the fastest, most enjoyable and definitely the most educational $20 that I have ever spent in my whole life. She was very perceptive because when we finished she ask if that was my first time, and, of course, I hesitated a second, and ask if it was that obvious. She just smiled and said that it was rather quick but for me to not worry about it. We went back downstairs and had another drink. She asked me if I would come back the next night because she had enjoyed dancing with me. I told her that I was just visiting for a few days and I would try. (I was embarrassed to say that I was on my Senior Trip). I did go back the next night, needless to say. We danced and danced but I told her that I actually didn't have $20 for the Upstairs. She said for me to follow her up there anyway and I did. We kissed---which she said she usually didn't do with "patrons" as she called them. She said that she was going to give me a little advise and instructions that would be useful in my future. She took off her clothes and told me to do the same. She then proceeded to show me what felt good to a woman when a man gives her oral sex. I was in Sex Education on a first hand basis---or should I say first "face" basis. Yes, I had graduated from High School but this was the most titillating education class that I would ever attend. Nothing in College or Graduate School would ever elevate to this same criteria and to this day over 50 years later, I remember this event as if it was yesterday.

When I got ready to leave that night, she said that I could stay with her and she would buy me clothes and give me money to spend, if I ever wanted to come back.

It didn't feel like she was just feeling sorry for me or feeding me a line of bull. I think that she just enjoyed the Dancing and my company. Maybe she was just lonely and she could mold this impressionable "kid" into whatever she wanted---either way---I thought about it, but decided that living with a prostitute did not fulfill my ambitions at the time. As an afterthought, I have often wondered what it would have been like just to try it for awhile. It might have added volumes to my song writing skills. Sadly, I remember all of this, but I can't remember her name. (Even that sounds like a good title for a song)

High School Senior Trip

My brain has a funny way of remembering things. Some are quite vivid, others sketchy (until reminded or jogged into focus), then others are a complete "Blur". Most of the road miles that I put on during my 1964 to 1980 days with Expression fit into the "Blur" category. But, before that, sometimes it is a combination.

In most of the small communities in Texas, all of the graduating seniors get to go on a short vacation. Not necessarily a reward, but more like a final time for all of them to be together before they go their separate ways in life, and they call it a senior trip. My senior trip from Olney High School was definitely a spectacular experience that I will never forget. It was most enlightening and unforgettable. Galveston, Texas was about 350 south on the Texas Gulf Coast and had a fine reputation of being a fun vacation spot with lots of beaches, excellent hotels and a wide open section of town called "Post Office Street".

(That's probably the main reason that all of the senior guys Voted to go to Galveston).

I remember that we left Olney, Texas and there were about 40 of us crammed on a Bus----but can't remember if it was a Greyhound or a Charter. I took my guitar so we carried our own entertainment. Joyce Pollard, Marilyn Larimore, and I sang a lot on the bus and in our Motel room when we got to Galveston. Sorry, I can't remember the name of the place where we stayed but it was close to the beach and the girls were in their rooms and the guys were in theirs---most of the time. There was lots of beer. The guys bought it (we all chipped in) but it sounded better to tell the girls that it was stolen---that way we didn't have to take the blame for buying it---or something stupid like that. (like stealing it was better than buying it----duuuh). We were all having a good time with nothing drastic or damaging really happening----even thou we were "partying hard". No sex as far as I knew---remember this was 1957 and small town Baptist Communities didn't allow that.

However, the visit to Post Office Street (two consecutive nights by the way) did make a vivid and positive impression on me, this very young 17 year old kid. We (three or four of us, I don't remember exactly who. I'm sure it was Wilbur Kunkel, and probably Troy Rogers and others. If he was with us Bodie York (but I think he was a year behind us in school). Anyway a bunch of us guys went to Post Office street and walked up and down the street just looking at the outside of all the big two story houses with all the Red Lights and Signs and loud music and we didn't know if we could get in. Finally, after about 30 minutes of that, I noticed a couple of sailors that just walked into one of the Houses and I thought they looked as young as I was, so if they can get in, then, so could we and we should try it. So, here were these 17 and 18 year old "boys" from Olney, Texas going into their first "House of Ill Repute". Come to find out----it was a lot more than a "Whore House". In all of the houses, there was a big bar, gambling with Slots and Black Jack Table games, Jukebox or live music, a dance floor, and lots of very attractive women. The first one that we went into was by far the worst one that we visited. Loud drunk older guys at the bar, bad music on the jukebox and the women were about my Mothers age so we didn’t stay there. After trying a few more, we finally went into one about in the Middle of Post Office Street and it had reasonably priced drinks (about a dollar for beer, and $1.50 for mixed drinks) and really nice music on the jukebox. Lots of old R&B music that I loved to dance to. ( The Clovers, Drifters, Joe Turner, Platters, Ruth Brown, etc). We ordered a drink and were quite surprised that they didn't even ask for an I.D., just money for the drinks. We sat there for awhile and sort of took in the sights so we could try to "fit in" to an atmosphere that we were definitely not accustomed to. Then, I noticed a really nice looking "lady" swing dancing and she was a terrific dancer. I had learned to dance from my Mom and my Aunt Oneita, so I loved to dance. I knew that she was older than I was, but she was really nice looking and had a beautiful body---not too big and not too small but just right. To give you something to visualize---my idea at the time was that Marilyn Monroe was the most beautiful woman in the world. (I didn't know that at the time she was 26 and 9 years older than me) and this "Woman" was just as pretty but with dark hair and had the same kind of body and was younger than Marilyn. This would make her probably about 22 or 23 and that to me was an "Older Woman". Now back to the story, I had a couple of beers and decided to ask her to dance. It was a match made in heaven. That night, I don't think that Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers could have done better "Swing Dancing" than we did. The kind of dancing we called the "Push". It was later classified as the West Coast Swing. She could follow anything that I did and put some things that I had never seen into her routine and it fit perfectly with what I was doing. I was completely swept off my feet. ( I was a Singer and Songwriter even at the age of 17 but I didn't actually include Her influence on me into my songs until the year 2000 when I wrote a couple of R&B dance songs called "Do it, Do it, Do it" and "She was Shuckin' and Jivin'"). I had two more beers and bought her a few drinks. After a few more dances, she said that we should go up to her room. I must have had $20 dollars because that was what it cost me, however it was the fastest, most enjoyable and definitely the most educational $20 that I have ever spent in my whole life. She was very perceptive because when we finished she ask if that was my first time, and, of course, I hesitated a second, and ask if it was that obvious. She just smiled and said that it was rather quick but for me to not worry about it. We went back downstairs and had another drink. She asked me if I would come back the next night because she had enjoyed dancing with me. I told her that I was just visiting for a few days and I would try. (I was embarrassed to say that I was on my Senior Trip). I did go back the next night, needless to say. We danced and danced but I told her that I actually didn't have $20 for the Upstairs. She said for me to follow her up there anyway and I did. We kissed---which she said she usually didn't do with "patrons" as she called them. She said that she was going to give me a little advise and instructions that would be useful in my future. She took off her clothes and told me to do the same. She then proceeded to show me what felt good to a woman when a man gives her oral sex. I was in Sex Education on a first hand basis---or should I say first "face" basis. Yes, I had graduated from High School but this was the most titillating education class that I would ever attend. Nothing in College or Graduate School would ever elevate to this same criteria and to this day over 50 years later, I remember this event as if it was yesterday.

When I got ready to leave that night, she said that I could stay with her and she would buy me clothes and give me money to spend, if I ever wanted to come back.

It didn't feel like she was just feeling sorry for me or feeding me a line of bull. I think that she just enjoyed the Dancing and my company. Maybe she was just lonely and she could mold this impressionable "kid" into whatever she wanted---either way---I thought about it, but decided that living with a prostitute did not fulfill my ambitions at the time. As an afterthought, I have often wondered what it would have been like just to try it for awhile. It might have added volumes to my song writing skills. Sadly, I remember all of this, but I can't remember her name. (Even that sounds like a good title for a song)

(to be continued, another time)