Johnny Winter died Wednesday, July 16, 2014. He was born John Dawson Winter III, on Feb. 23, 1944, in Beaumont TX, which makes him 70. He was an skinny albino, and played guitar.
In 1971, the rock concert phenomenon was a snowball rolling down a mountain, getting bigger every inch of the way. The combination of loud music, theatrics, and public dope smoking had a lot of appeal. Johnny Winter was one of the hottest performers.
In Atlanta, the number one venue was the Municipal Auditorium. It was a sturdy concrete building on Courtland Avenue, in the middle of Georgia State University. The front of the building is still there, but the guts are long gone. When a Johnny Winter concert was announced for May 1971, 6,000 tickets went fast. The Omni would open in 17 months.
At this time, PG wasn’t quite into the concert thing. The first show he saw at the Auditorium was in March 1972. The second act was Edgar Winter, Johnny’s younger brother. The headliner, Humble Pie, might as well have not shown up.
At some point in the proceedings, Johnny Winter began using heroin. He took some time off to recover. When the comeback tour was announced in 1973, PG was ready. On the morning tickets went on sale, he was at the Sears in Athens GA, and copped front row seats. The show was scheduled for the Fox Theater, which had not been used for concerts long. Until then, it was mostly a movie house.
The opening act was Foghat. They were amazing. Foghat built a career by opening for acts that somehow didn’t quite measure up.
Johnny Winter just wasn’t very good that night. He didn’t have Rick Derringer, or a second guitar of any sort, to play with. It was him, a bass, and drummer, and his girlfriend. The lady beat a cowbell with a drumstick, and did some backing vocals.
Pictures from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
The quiz, How Redneck Are You?, had to happen. PG had too much free time, and took the test. He might lose points for writing a blog post about it. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
The test is eleven multiple choice questions. PG did not give a correct answer until number fo-wer, “Do you own camo clothes?” The camo cargo shorts were purchased at Walmart.
Other questions that worked for PG were seven … “What role does WD-40 play in your life?” … and ten … “Is NASCAR a real sport?” PG was just kidding when he said that NASCAR was rigged. Number eleven was close. “Do you really care what other people think of your lifestyle?”
The full set of teeth did not seem to hurt none. “You are 60% Redneck. We ain’t sure if you’re a real redneck or not, but you sure could pass for one if pressed. Just need the right uniform… “
In an curious act of political correctness, race was not mentioned. Most rednecks do not appreciate African Americans. That is probably the most polite way of saying this.
This was discussed in the comments. “…just because someone is redneck doesn’t mean they are racist. ~ true but it doesn’t hurt.. ~ Agreed 100 % why do idiots have to bring rasicm into everything ~ because they have been brainwashed by race baiters.”
There is yet another internet quiz, How Southern Are You? When you get your score, you are invited to post the results on facebook. Do you add, or subtract, points for that?
There are ten multiple choice questions. The first one is “1. Which refreshing drink would you reach for on a hot summer day? Coca-Cola Sprite Sweet Tea Beer” If you are a retired drunk, who likes unsweet tea, it is ok to lie here. You have to keep up appearances. The same goes for question 2. The fact that the nearest Piggly Wiggly is one hundred miles away is of no concern.
Questions 5 and 8 are about language. Yes, the phrase “Bless your heart” means “I think you are ignorant,” but only if you are very polite. Number 8 is about Y’all, the word. The quiz only asks if you use it. It does not ask if you only use Y’all as a plural.
The first time around, PG got “You are 100% Southern.” Then he wanted to see if number 5 said “Bless your heart” or “Bless her heart.” You are probably more southern if you say the latter.
On this round, PG tried to be as unsouthern as possible. He knows better than to think a pig pickin’ is where you check out fat girls. Still, you have to do your research. On this round, the result was 3% Southern. “Well bless your heart! You don’t know the first thing about what it means to be Southern!”
Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
I can’t find any references, but I don’t think Miss O’Connor was bff with Carson McCullers ~ Has anyone ever admitted to doing those voices? ~ @mbsycamore The only thing worse than nostalgia is nostalgia for nostalgia. @chamblee54 @mbsycamore what about yesstalgia @mbsycamore @chamblee54 Yesstalgia does sound more dangerous. @mbsycamore Oh, no—I just responded sincerely to an ironic post. ~Hannah Gee · this article is pretty racist to both whites and blacks. why is buzzfeed always trying to divide us? Mark Ramsey · Because it increases their traffic. ~ maybe BF can just send some of that traffic to my blog ~ Is she the best we can do? ~ glisten ~ “Calling out is rarely a comfortable experience, but it IS an opportunity for growth and for building a truly inclusive, radical community.”. If someone says something inappropriate, then the person should deal with them in a quiet, private manner. Only that person should deal with the offender. It should not be an excuse for the gossip machine to crank up, and have the entire “radical community” defriend and defame this person. Should I remind you that this is a human being we are dealing with?And that maybe, just maybe, this person has a side to his/her story? Our “inclusive” community is going to be built on gossip, backstabbing, and community vengence. Is this what you really want? ~ I wonder if any of these people calling for action have ever been “called out”. ~ transcript ~ This so called radical community can be awfully self righteous, and good at ignoring our own flaws. …”learn about this and hopefully be more thoughtful and heart-centered in their words and actions going forward”… That includes taking a look at ourselves. Make sure that we do not become the evil that we think we are fighting. ~ That assumes that Jesus is the Christ. ~ I reposted a story at my blog today. It is about the start of the Sharon Needles meltdown. I saw something wrong happening, spoke out, and was villified. I see the way people came to Melissa’s defense, and remember the way I was treated two years ago. ~ If you have defriended a person, that person is not going to put much value in your wonderful opinions. This is a bit of residue from the anti racism crusades we have endured. ~ The following quote is about body parts. “As I have noted in the past, vaginas are like, a thousand times tougher than testicles. Those ladyparts are basically tough as tractor tires. Our balls are as tough as tissue paper. We get flicked in the nuts by a badminton birdie we’ll double over for twenty minutes, moaning and rocking back and forth. Our balls are like little yarn-bundles contained in a thin, wifty sack of outlying flesh. They unspool like bobbins of delicate thread when damaged. Women on the other hand push entire people out of their lady-realms like divine fucking beings. So, maybe that vagina-analog isn’t the best insult, misogynist dudes. Kay? Kay.”Chuck Wendig (contemp.) American novelist, screenwriter, game designer “Burning the MRA Playbook,” Terrible Minds blog (29 May 2014) ~ When we talk about inclusion, we might want to consider what could be called creepism. There are people that you simply don’t like. Should these people be shamed, and excluded from the community? ~ Many of these comments say more about the critic than they do you ~ There are always going to be people who simply don’t like each other. Some times it is mutual, some times it goes one way. If you don’t like me, then I don’t like you. This can be a problem in creating a safe space ~ is true religion an oxymoron? ~ Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”. ~ selah
1. You must first learn to pronounce the city name, Atlana. Old-timers are still allowed to call it Alana.
2. The morning rush hour is from 5:00 am to noon. The evening rush hour is from noon to 7:00 pm. Friday’s rush hour starts on Thursday morning.
3. The minimum acceptable speed on I-285 is 80 mph. On I-75 and I-85, your speed is expected to at least match the highway number. Anything less is considered ‘Wussy’.
4. Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere. Atlanta has its own version of traffic rules. For example, Ferraris and Lamborghinis owned by sports stars go first at a four-way stop. Cars/trucks with the loudest muffler go second. The trucks with the biggest tires go third. The HOV lanes are for the slow Floridians passing through who are used to hogging the left lane everywhere.
5. If you actually stop at a yellow light or stop sign, you will be rear ended, cussed out, and possibly shot. Unless there is a police car nearby.
6. Never honk at anyone. Ever. Seriously. It’s another offense that can get you shot.
7. Road construction is permanent and continuous. Detour barrels are moved around for your entertainment pleasure during the middle of the night to make the next day’s driving a bit more exciting. Generally, city roads other than the main streets have more potholes and bumps (usually speed bumps) than most dirt roads in the countryside.
8. Watch carefully for road hazards such as drunks, possums, skunks, dogs, barrels, cones, furniture, cats, mattresses, shredded tires, squirrels, rabbits, and crows.
9. Spelling of street names may change from block to block, e.g., Clairmont, Claremont, Clairmonte.
10. If someone actually has their turn signal on, wave them to the shoulder immediately to let them know it has been “accidentally activated”.
11. If you are in the left lane and only driving 75 in a 55-65 mph zone, k, e.g., you are considered a road hazard and will be “flipped off” accordingly. If you return the flip, you’ll be shot.
12. For summer driving, it is advisable to wear potholders on your hands. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
There is a form letter floating through the intercourse now. It is a letter that Steve Martin used to send to his fans. (The letter was recently immortalized at Letters of Note.)
He …that is Stephen Glenn “Steve” Martin (born August 14, 1945) … has moved up in correspondence with his adoring fans. Mr. Martin now gives out business cards, with the message “This card certifies that the holder had met Steve Martin and found him genuinely friendly”. What a wild and crazy guy!
This is becoming one of those really really modern days here. Listening to a djmix with a Lady Gaga song, drinking coffee out of a Mcdonalds plastic cup, and writing a tribute to Steve Martin. What a day! Oh, before we forget, there is the story about the drive in theater on I85 that was showing “Father of the Bride”. One day, the h fell off the marquee, and the title of the movie became “Fater of the Bride”. Good times.
The story of Steve Martin and PG began one night at the Great Southeast Music Hall. PG got tired of hearing how great the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band was, and decided to see a show. The show started when some guy in a white suit came out with a banjo. John McEuen stood next to him, and kept falling into the microphone stand and saying “this guy cracks me up”.
Steve Martin, the white suit guy, said that he paid somebody five thousand dollars for a joke. He then took this arrow, with a coat hanger wire attached to it, with a shape for his head to fit in, and put it on. That got a laugh, but not worth five thousand dollars. There was another gag…”do you mind if i smoke, no do you mind if i fart”. That got a slightly bigger laugh.
In those days, you could not sell alcohol in public on sunday night in Georgia. To compensate, the Music Hall sold children’s tickets for the sunday night shows. Mr. Martin was not used to having children in the audience. “Hey kid I gotta joke for you. There were these two lesbians…”
The show went over well with the Nitty Gritty crowd. However, it is doubtful that anyone thought, this is the beloved entertainer of our generation.
Mr. Martin was not through for the night. At one point, the NGDB moved to the back of the stage, and a smarmy lounge lizard, in a white suit, came on stage. While the band played “The girl from Ipanema”, Mr. Martin sang about the girl with diarrhea.
This was one of the last shows that Steve Martin did as an opening act. (He did return to the Great Southeast Music Hall. Once, he did a week with Martin Mull, called the Steve Martin Mull Revue.) Within two years, he was a guest host on Saturday Night Live, and a certified wild and crazy guy. A couple of years later, he was famous again as “The Jerk”. Steve Martin had arrived.
This is a repost. The pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”. The animated dentures are from chattering teeth. The check is in the mail.
Luther Campbell McKinnon Sr. was born February 22, 1916, on a farm in Rowland, North Carolina. Europe was stuck in a war that would change the world, and not until The United States got involved. This didn’t happen for another year.
Luke was the youngest of four children. After life as a farm boy, he went to Wake Forest University, and then came back when his Daddy died. He ran a family dairy for a few years, and went to live in New Jersey. He lived near a prison, and saw the lights dim when the electric chair was used.
In the early fifties, he came to Atlanta to live. This was where his sister Sarah stayed, with her husband and two daughters. One day he went into the C&S bank on 10th street, and took notice of one of the tellers. On October 6, 1951, he married Jean Dunaway. She was with him the rest of his life.
At some point in this era he started selling shoes. He would go to warehouses, gas stations, and wherever barefoot men needed shoes. He was “The Shoe Man” .
Before long there were two boys, and he bought a house, then another. The second house is the current residence of my brother and myself, and is probably worth 15 times what he paid for it. He had the good fortune to not buy in an area that was “blockbusted,’ as many neighborhoods were.
And this was his life. He tended a garden, went to the gym, and was in the Lions Club for many years. When he met Mom, she let him know that going to church with her was part of the deal. They found a church that was good for their needs, and made many friends there. The Pastor at Briarcliff Baptist, Glen Waldrop, was his friend.
When I think of the character of this man, there is one night, which stands out. My brother was away at the time. The day before, Mom had discovered she had a detached retina, and was in the hospital awaiting surgery. Her job had arranged a “leaf tour” by train in North Georgia, and she got one of her friends at work to take me. There was some mechanical trouble on the train, and it did not get back into town until 3am Monday morning. And yet, Daddy stayed at home, did not panic, and had faith that all of us would be back soon, which we were.
Through all the struggles of his life, Dad was cheerful, laughed a lot, and was good company. He left me with a rich repertoire of country sayings, and had many stories to tell. He was surprising mellow about black people, if a bit old fashioned. (In the south when I grew up, this was highly unusual).
Dad was always in good, vigorous health, and I thought he would be with us for a long time. Well, that is not how things work. A cancer developed in his liver, and spread to his lungs (he did not smoke). After a mercifully brief illness, we lost him on February 7, 1992. This is a repost.
Some pictures have longer captions than others. Shorpy published one with a mouthful.
Mrs. Dora Stainers, 562 1/2 Decatur St. 39 years old. Began spinning in an Atlanta mill at 7 years, and is in this mill work for 32 years. Only 4 days of schooling in her life. Began at 20 cents a day. The most she ever made was $1.75 a day & now she is earning $1 a day when she works. She is looking for a job. Her little girl Lilie is the same age she was when she started work, but the mother says, “I ain’t goin to put her to work if I can help it. I’m goin’ to give her as much education as I can so she can do better than I did.” Mrs. Stainers is a woman of exceptional ability considering her training. In contrast to her is another woman (this name was withheld) who has been working in Atlanta mills for 10 yrs. She began at 10 yrs. of age, married at 12, broke down, and may never be able to work again. Her mother went to work in the cotton mill very young. Location: Atlanta, Georgia.
The photographs of Mrs. Stainers were made in March, 1915. The photographer was Lewis Wickes Hine. “Working as an investigative photographer for the National Child Labor Committee (NCLC), Lewis Hine (1874-1940) documented working and living conditions of children in the United States between 1908 and 1924.” “In 1954 the Library received the records of the National Child Labor Committee, including approximately 5,000 photographs and 350 negatives by Lewis Hine. In giving the collection to the Library, the NCLC stipulated that “There will be no restrictions of any kind on your use of the Hine photographic material.”
The house that Mrs. Stainer lived in is long gone. 562 1/2 Decatur Street is across the railroad tracks from the Fulton Cotton Mill. With real estate agents demanding names for all neighborhoods, the area is known as the Old Fourth Ward. At 552 Decatur Street is A & R Welding.
Pictures are from The Library of Congress. This is a repost.
The neighborhood along Peachtree Road has always been a great place to be a freak. For a long time it didn’t have a name. It is north of downtown, between Piedmont Park and Georgia Tech. Sometime in the early eighties, people started to call it Midtown, and the name stuck.
In the time after the War Between the States, this area was a shantytown called “Tight Squeeze”. It evolved into a pleasant middle class area. In the sixties, hippies took over. The area was known as the strip, or tight squeeze. Many stories could be told.
After the flower children moved on, the area went into decline. Gays started to move in, with the battle cry “Give us our rights or we will remodel your house”. Developers, worshiping the triune G-d of location, location, location, began to smell money. The neighborhood became trendy, then expensive, then more expensive. The freaks with money remain. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”.
A few years ago, a man started to twirl a baton around Atlanta. He wears eye catching outfits, traditionally intended for females. His handle is Baton Bob. Yesterday, BB went out to celebrate the Supreme Court decisions on DOMA, and Proposition 8. He went to Colony Square, where apparently his act is not appreciated. He was asked to leave, became verbally abusive, and was arrested. Here is the police report.
Baton Bob is African American. So is the arresting officer, and the two security guards. This matter might not be about race. Further, it seems as though BB has had problems with the management at Colony Square before. A security guard, on private property, has a right to tell a man not to come in to the food court and blow a whistle.
Baton Bob does not appreciate those who don’t enjoy his act. He does not have a problem with cussing out those who get in his way. Apparently, this was a problem when he was in St. Louis. Could it be that Baton Bob has gotten too big for his Tutu?
Historic pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”. The mug shot is from Fulton County Sheriff’s Office. This is a double repost.
Caro, Necie, Teensy, and Vivi are the Ya-Ya sisters. They were kids together in Louisiana when the local movie theater had a Shirley Temple look-a-like contest. The Ya-Yas were kicked out for misbehaving. It was not the only time they got in trouble.
Sidda, the daughter of Vivi, is working on a play. Her mother is not speaking to her. Sidda wants to know about female bonding, and asks one of the ya-yas for help. A scrapbook arrives. Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood: A Novel is about what happens when Sidda looks through the book.
The book is like life… it is short, but deep. If G-d is hiding in the details, maybe people can as well. sometimes the best thing to do is tell one of the stories.
It was the last week that PG would be working at the retail giant headquarters. The cafeteria quit serving at two p.m. The morning chores had lasted past the cutoff time. The break room was full of loud people. PG decided to get out, and found the Waffle House on Atlanta Road.
After ordering lunch, PG stepped back in time. The Ya-Ya girls took a train to Atlanta. They were going to the world premiere of “Gone With The Wind.” They stayed at the house of a wealthy relative. Ginger, a maid, was the chaperone. She had to ride in the “colored” car.
The premiere of GWTW was a big deal. There was a costume ball at the municipal auditorium, which was not exactly a grand place. There was a choir from Ebenezer Baptist Church singing spirituals. One of the singers was ten year old Martin Luther King Jr.
One day, during breakfast, an Atlanta cousin said something rude to Ginger. Vivi threw a plate of food at the Atlanta cousin. The Atlanta relatives were glad to see the Ya-Yas leaving. Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.