Belle

Four things was always done on Saturday’s: washing the car, cooking Sunday dinner, getting ready for church on Sunday and getting ready to go out and swing at Big Daddy Brown’s Juke Joint. Ah, Saturdays, the one day to kick back just a little from the work week and have just a little bit of fun and perform the usual Saturday rituals. Everyone who had a car whether it was brand new or old as dirt washed their car on Saturdays. It was very hot in the summer time so the car would usually be in the shade of some type of tree in the yard. The radio in the car would be blasting the latest tunes while you use the whisk broom to sweep the inside floors and use an old shirt to dust the inside. The floor mats were taken out and place on the ground and washed separately. A bucket half filled with water with dish detergent or washing powder was used to wash the outside of the car. A garden hose was used to rinse off the soap. And there you were washing and singing to the tunes on the radio. This was the scene throughout the neighborhood. Every now and then someone would pass by in their car, toot the horn, wave and said, "evening." We would then respond by waving back. We weren’t to please with someone driving too fast on the dirt road after washing the car because it kicked up too much dust and it made the car dusty all over again.

We would go out into the garden to pick collard greens for Sunday dinner. After cleaning the greens in no time momma would have the entire farm smelling of greens. Ooo-wee!! that smell would make you so hungry. If momma wasn’t careful all of it would be eaten up on Saturdays, but she guarded them like gold at Fort Knox. Sunday dinner was always special. It would be something that you didn’t eat during the week, so we looked forward to Sunday dinner every week. The dinner was usually fried chicken, greens, macaroni and cheese, rice, cake and lemonade. My father would always get the biggest piece or the legs. Sometimes the minister from the church would stop by to chat or a neighbor would come by and then they were offered some of the Sunday special.

Another Saturday ritual was getting together the clothes to wear to church on Sunday. My father would get his suit out of the closet and hang it on the porch in the sun to "air out" as he would say. Sometimes the smell of moth balls in the closet also got into the fabric of the clothes and it really needed to be aired out. We would make sure our stockings were washed and our shoes were polished and shined. All of my brothers got their hair cut. The girls washed their hair and got it straighten and curled.

As we got older we were then allowed to go to Big Daddy Brown’s Juke Joint. As a kid growing up we heard so many stories about this place. We couldn’t wait until we were able to go. Daddy Brown’s was the only place for miles open after nine o’clock. This was the only place to get a cold beer, a fish sandwich and listen to a little James Brown and Otis Redding all for the price of two dollars. If you were lucky some of the local guys and some from the next town would ask you to dance, buy you a soda and talk about the latest gossip in town. Everyone knew one another or grew up together. The pickings were real slim and everyone knew one another’s business.

We got dressed in our finest juke joint clothes which was usually a pair of jeans, slacks, blouse and occasionally a hat. We made sure we had a purse that could be hung around the neck because all three of us like to dance. We didn’t want to leave our purse on the table while we were out on the dance floor. There we were, the three of us ready to do some Saturday night dancing’. Momma always said, "you’ll have fun and be careful. Stay away from the bad crowd. If you see something is about to go down find home, and find it quick". Denise would always say, "lets run a check to see if we have everything for tonight. Money-check, chewing gum-check, spray perfume-check, hankerchief-check, pocketbook around our neck-check, cigarettes-check." We would stop Denise right at the cigarette check. We don’t smoke and neither do you. Denise said, "I know I don’t smoke, but this makes me look real cool and tough at the same time. When I walk into Big Daddy’s I want the women to say, "see the one with the smokes, don’t mess with her she’ll kick your ass."

So the three of us got into the station wagon and headed for Big Daddy Brown’s. As we made our way along the long dirt road the dust kicking up from the station wagon made spiral tornadoes in the evening sky. The radio was blasting and we were all singing along. Denise immediately got out a cigarette and lit up. We all took one, lit up, and coughed all the way to the juke joint. I must admit driving along with a cigarette in one hand hanging out of the window and one hand on the steering wheel did make me feel kinda invincible. I smiled to myself and drove on. We only pretended to smoke when we went to the juke joint. By the time we got to the joint my cigarette had burned down, Laura and Denise’s also. Denise lit up another as soon as we got to the door.

There were several ways to know that you were approaching Big Daddy’s. One could smell the fried fish and fried chicken way down the road. The juke box was blasting fast thunderous crescendos. A green and red neon beer sign flickered in the window. It was just a small building built out of cinder blocks very simplistic in it’s design. It had like an upside down "V" shape roof. It was located on the end of the road about a stone’s throw from Big Daddy Brown’s house. An occasional holler would echo in the night sky from someone who’s had just a little too much corn whiskey and was being escorted to their car either by a friend or being thrown out by Big Daddy. The cars were parked about a quarter of a mile from the joint, tonight it was a full house. We parked the station wagon and started inside. On our way inside we passed a few guys standing outside just people watching and making comments about the female anatomy. Denise played right along and put just an extra sway in her steps. One of the guys made a howling wolf cry into the night. We all try to hold our laugh and continued on inside.

At the door we paid the two dollars admission fee and got our hand stamped. The stamped hand was for readmission in case you decide to step out for a breath of fresh air. Big Daddy himself collected admission. He was a big guy. He always wore a brown Stetson hat and kept an unlit cigar in his mouth. He was a nice guy but don’t start any trouble in his joint or you would truly be sorry. He hurls a baseball bat like a ninja and moves like a cat in a hurry. Just ask all of the people with broken bones or bullet wounds. Big Daddy don’t take no mess. His motto is "Come to my place and have a good time but if you start a mess you are out the door for sure". Inside was jumping. Everyone was on the dance floor or seated at the bar drinking and smoking. There was a Deejay spinning records this night. The whole place was smoky and Denise contributed to that smoke with her cigarette dangling from her corner lips. There were Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling and all around the walls. The lights flickered on and off. It gave the place an extra flair.