


My Friday before Mardi Gras Diva Day turned into a lot more for me than just catching Carol and other friends at their parade.
With the Divas lining up at Arnaud's, I was close to a block of Bourbon Street that holds part of my life and a history that carries into today.


During graduate school in the late seventies, some of my classmates hung around music venues uptown, while my friends and I chose Bourbon Street. At that time, 327 Bourbon was known as Judah P's. You'd find dancers inside and Salt Creek playing country music on the patio. I loved going to listen to the band, even though I could only afford to buy one drink and then head out to wander the Quarter for free. One late August evening, a tall, handsome, cowboy booted and hatted, cigarette-smoking guy was leaning against the wall at the entrance and said: "I'm just a poor little country boy from North Carolina, won't you come in and have a drink with me?" Steve went to the bar, returned with my drink, said he'd be back and to wait for him. Imagine my surprise, when I looked up to see him playing drums. I began dating this drummer in the band. A whole new world opened up that gave me a life and connections on Bourbon Street.

What caught my eye that Friday was that the alley of 327 Bourbon had been turned into a beer/drink stand. One Mardi Gras, my brother Tom and I "person-ed" a stand in just that spot and sold cans of cold beer. I'd been dating (and was soon to marry) the manager of the club that had turned into "Big Jim's", with the mechanical bull and all in an adjoining, converted warehouse that opened onto 810 Conti Street.

I, of course, had to take a few photos. I guess until now, I'd always just been rushing by on my way to somewhere else. That Friday, it was as if I could see people from my past waving from the windows and balconies of every floor of the narrow, three story building. Around the corner, I'd parked my bike in front of 810 which is now a warehouse. I stopped in at the bar next door to have a soft drink before heading home. Sitting alone at the bar, I realized that it had been People's Grocery Store. I mentioned it to the bar tender who said: "I don't know for sure, but it must have been...you're the second person today who has said so."

I rode my bike home with my memories sound-tracked to the music of Salt Creek. Of course, there's more. The question is: "How much do I want to share?" We shall see.
