Hey it’s Zack.
Saturday May 14 we played in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. A relatively short drive from New Orleans – about an hour forty-five making good time. Hattiesburg is home to The University of Southern Mississippi. It’s a fairly large college with strong programs in the fine arts and polymer research. We always play at the coolest little bar in town called Benny’s Boom Boom Room. Owned and operated by a Jew in the haystack, Ben Shemper, he will invariably me ask upon my arrival, “you know any nice Jewish girls for me?”
The sacred steel group The Lee Boys, of South Florida, kicked off the night with their brand of pedal steel boogie rippage. Their pedal steel player Roosevelt Collier is a regular sit-in guest on the festival scene and an inspiration to our own Ed “Steel” Williams. Subbing in on drums they had the killer up-and-comer New Orleans cat Terrence Houston (Khris Royal & Dark Matter, George Porter Jr’s Runnin’ Pardners). It was a real thrill to sit in with them at the end of their set. A rollicking good time!
A rollicking good time.
After the Lee Boys we proceeded with our set as usual. No surprise covers, impromptu jams or rarities tonight. In fact, in the excitement of the Lee Boys we neglected to make a setlist. Scrambling to come up with an encore we made a pow-wow around the drum riser to decide. While we were convening someone sent a drink flying onstage. The drink, filled with liquid mind you, fell directly atop the pedal board where I keep all my various effects and stomp boxes. What the f?
I was annoyed but my initial reaction was that this must have been a mistake. Some drunken patron up front must have lost control of his or her beverage in a dramatic way. I’d seen many a drunk dude or chick fall over into the front of the stage at Benny’s. But, no. I was informed that this in fact was a deliberate act. I was pissed. Why would you do that? This was an intentionally malicious act in line with one of the South’s deep rooted and painful traditions: throwing beverages at musicians who you don’t approve of. But there was no chicken wire in front of this stage to protect my ish.
After quickly drying off the pedals I decided that I need to find this guy. I’m not a confrontational person. I’ve never had a fistfight in my life but I shouldn’t just let someone mess with me like that right? So I went off stage to in pursuit of the drink hurler who had by then been escorted outside. Let’s call him Mr. Mann. Someone led me to Mr. Mann where he was on the sidewalk in front of the club. He was a big fella sporting a cowboy hat and a scowl, but stumbling drunk past the point of being physically threatening.
“Do you have three hundred dollars on you?” I asked. “Because you just spilled your drink over about $300 worth of my equipment.” I don’t remember his exact response to this but it was something along the lines of a go f*ck yourself.
“Why did you throw your drink at the stage?” I asked.
“Because y’all are a hippy f*cking jam band bullshit,” he belched indignantly.
“So we don’t have a right to exist?”
“That’s right!” He had a more sober friend giving me a dirty look. “What are you gonna do about it?” Mr. Mann offered.
At that point I may have just walked back into the bar then or I may have called him an ignorant asshole then walked inside. I honestly don’t remember. Either way I went back inside feeling proud for having confronted the fella and proceeded to rock out our encore of “Catching Fireflies”. I felt good. I looked like a tough-guy going after some drunk goon. Truth is I knew no real risk was involved. The bouncer was right there between us.
After our set somebody said “Zack come here you gotta see this.” It was a pickup truck stuck in a ditch in front of the parking lot. On his way home Mr. Mann was hit with instant karma. He drove his pick up into a parking pole, bottoming it out. With the help of some friends who let friends drive drunk his vehicle was removed from the crevasse and he went presumably home.
The next morning I received a call from Benny informing me that Mr. Mann had called him up offering to pay for any damages he may have caused to my pedals. Turns out he’s one of those Jekyll and Hyde type drunks. The nicest guy you’ll want to meet when he’s sober but a whirling fart scoundrel when drunk.
And he’s a musician. A songwriter. I checked him out and his songs are not completely horrible. He’s going for the drunken-but -kinda-sensitive-redneck-singer-songwriter persona. My guess is he saw a young band playing to a sizeable crowd in his hometown and it pissed him right off. Machismo and singer-songwriting are not exactly compatible but I have to say it does take courage to sing original songs in a lonely bar by yourself. My advice to Mr. Mann is to man up and to quit drinking if you’re gonna be such a belligerent bastard when you do.
Tags: bennys boom boom room, boom boom room, hattiesburg, lee boys, terrence houston, the lee boys, the revivalists
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he probably saw your stache and got wickedly jealous. i assume you had it then otherwise you would have grown it in two weeks (saw you in brooklyn) and that would be damn impressive…as i cannot grow facial hair quickly. good on you to step up to him though. i’ve actually been to that bar so i know the clientele. keep up the rockin my man.
Proud of you Fin! I guess you are ready for Israel.