The Southern Colonels Dance Band (Cont.)
Screen 3 of 5But one night we finally did persuade him "to try it" in the trailer. We had just finished playing for a dance at Bardstown, Kentucky and were ready to return to Bowling Green--about 100 miles away--when Marvin complained of being very tired. We all understood that and sympathized with him. It was almost two o'clock in the morning, and we, too, were exhausted. So we suggested that he ride back in the trailer where he could relax and sleep. Of course, we knew from experience he could do neither, but we were determined to get him to ride in that trailer at least once. "You guys are just putting me on about how great it is to ride back there," he said. "Anyway, who would ride with me?" he asked.
Our answer seemed to sway him. "How about Virginia? She's never ridden in the trailer either, and the two of you could enjoy it together." Marvin glanced at Virginia who was standing next to the car. Neither of them said anything for the moment. She was a piano player from Bowling Green, substituting for Tom Pollard who could not make the trip to Bardstown. Since this was the first time she had played with the band, she apparently wanted to please us, if possible. So she did not refuse.
Virginia was terribly cross-eyed with no glasses to hide that fact, but she could indeed play jazz piano very well, and we learned early on this trip that she was a congenial traveling companion. We were not too surprised, therefore, when she agreed to ride in the trailer--"if Marvin will."
We encouraged them further by suggesting they could play cards back there on the floor under the small light, until they were ready to relax and sleep. We also assured them that whenever they wanted to change with two of us up front, all they had to do was pull the string we had strung through a small hole in the side of the trailer and up to the back seat of the sedan over the top of the rear window. On the end of the string in the car was tied a metal spoon, which would rattle against the window when someone in the trailer pulled that end of the string back and forth.
Marvin and Virginia were still not sure as they examined this crude internal communication system of string and spoon, but when one of our group handed them a half-pint of Kentucky moonshine which had been given to him at the dance, they both agreed to ride in the trailer "Why not?" Virginia said cheerily as she crawled through the rear door and sat down on the blanket next to Marvin who then added somewhat skeptically, "Yeah, why not? What do we have to lose?" I remember thinking but not saying that their optimism was certainly not supported by my own experience in that trailer. They just didn't know what they were in for, but before we padlocked those rear doors together, they were seated comfortably on the blanket, Virginia holding the deck of cards under the dim light and Marvin beginning to open the bottle of illegal moonshine. (The Volstead Act prohibiting the sale of alcoholic beverages was not repealed until early in 1933.)
It was a little after two o'clock when we began the trip home. The first thirty-mile stretch between Bardstown and Elizabethtown was the worst part. The road was rough--either gravel or dirt surface all the way--and it was a hot humid night. The dust was always with us, but considerably worse when a car would pass us. So Leon Spillman, the only person Marvin would trust to drive his car, drove faster than usual so that few cars passed us. This was perhaps better for the six of us seated in the sedan, but as we realized later, the extra speed made it worse for Marvin and Virginia, since the dust kicked up by the car went first into the trailer.
It was not surprising, therefore, that before we had covered ten miles, those of us in the back seat heard a gentle rattle of the spoon against the window. Obviously, the string was being pulled from inside the trailer. We looked at one another but said nothing. Those in the front seat had not heard the noise, and Leon kept driving.
[Vol. 7 CONTENTS]
[DAVID'S HOME PAGE]
- 30 -