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My daddy was a mean son, bitch,

0:33

He was also a preacher that believed

0:35

that the road to salvation was unflinching

0:38

faith. As such, the

0:40

best way to keep children on the right path was

0:43

through hard work and strict

0:45

discipline. My childhood

0:47

can be described with a lot of words, but

0:50

trust me, spoiled, ate

0:52

one of them. Due

0:54

to my upbringing, I've soured

0:56

on the ideas of faith and religion. But

0:59

despite that, I still believe

1:01

in god in my own way. I

1:03

don't show this by quoting scriptures or

1:06

attending church every Sunday, I

1:08

worship him through a music. Despite

1:11

the beatings I received in his name, how

1:14

could I not believe and god. Not

1:17

after being blessed enough to grow up in an age

1:19

of real music. I'll

1:21

never forget the first time I heard Robert

1:23

Johnson on the radio, Those

1:25

powerful chords and raw lyrics shook

1:28

me to my very soul.

1:30

I only heard him for a

1:31

minute, before daddy slapped

1:33

me so hard that my ears were ringing.

1:36

Those people are marked by sin,

1:38

and so is everything they do you.

1:41

I will not tolerate the devil

1:43

in this house boy.

1:45

Daddy made his point clear through scripture.

1:48

But he did nothing to dull the passion that the

1:50

blues brought to my soul. Nor

1:52

did the constant teasing from the other children

1:54

in school when they found out about taste in

1:57

music. While they listened

1:59

to the latest

1:59

honky tonk hits, I taught

2:02

myself to strum the blues on a guitar

2:04

and

2:04

learned how to tickle those heavy lie tombs

2:06

out on a piano. One

2:09

day, I hoped that everyone would speak

2:11

the name of Ricky Dods, the

2:13

same way they did Johnson and muddy

2:15

waters. It became

2:17

clear that I would never be able to achieve my

2:19

dream while living under daddy's

2:20

thumb. So

2:23

I scrimped

2:23

and saved every penny I could.

2:25

From doing odd jobs around town.

2:28

I sang in the choir to nurture my vocals

2:31

and would listen to the radio and secret.

2:33

Coming along to the songs. Even

2:36

in the quiet of the night, barely

2:38

above a whisper,

2:39

that music lifted my spirits.

2:43

If daddy

2:43

had any suspicions about my goals.

2:46

He never vocalized them.

2:48

I imagine the night I left home was a complete

2:50

shock to him. Honestly,

2:53

I don't know. I wasn't going

2:55

to stick around and wait to find out. Instead,

2:59

I hopped on the nearest bus out of down

3:01

when my money ran short, I

3:03

hitchhiked and jumped to

3:05

trains until I finally reached Chicago

3:07

to pursue my dreams.

3:09

The year passed by slowly

3:11

and

3:11

painfully. Learning how the

3:13

windy city worked was tough for a dumb

3:15

redneck boy, fresh off the truck.

3:19

Times varied to be between lean and rough

3:21

and never bobbled much above good.

3:24

The days I got three square meals were few

3:26

and far between. I lived

3:29

everywhere from flop houses

3:31

with leaky roofs

3:32

and oftentimes on the streets. Despite

3:35

how tough those days were, I

3:37

can't help but look back

3:38

on them with a lot of fondness. I

3:40

was fearless throughout my twenties. Hope

3:43

and dreams were the only things I needed to

3:45

keep me going. Every day

3:47

I clawed at success, getting

3:50

by on pennies playing on the streets

3:52

and blessed by the occasional working night

3:54

with my battered guitar.

3:56

Sure. The bae was never much

3:58

better than breaking my back

3:59

digging ditches, but there ain't

4:02

no feeling like being in the spotlight and

4:04

soaking in the applause of a crowd. I

4:06

don't care if it's a room with a dozen people

4:09

or a stadium filled with thousands. In

4:11

that moment, a man is as

4:13

close to god as one can ever hope to

4:15

be. Like the century

4:18

I lived in, my twenty gave

4:20

way to my thirties. The confidence

4:22

of youth gave way to the reality of

4:24

maturity. Eventually,

4:26

it came time for me to face

4:29

the truth. You see?

4:31

There's a problem growing up with legends.

4:34

When the stages and the radios are taken

4:36

up by Tommy Johnson's and Tampa

4:38

Reds of the world.

4:40

They're not just your inspiration. They're

4:42

your competition too. I

4:45

could pick a guitar well enough Even

4:48

accompanied the rhythms on a piano with some

4:50

degree of competence. My

4:52

voice could draw attention from people passing on

4:54

the street, but wouldn't captivate

4:56

a room full of people. In

4:58

short, I was good,

5:00

but I wasn't great, and

5:02

I wasn't ever going to be. In

5:05

the spotlight? Well, it's

5:07

got no sympathy for those who can't cast

5:09

a shadow. It

5:11

was my thirty third birthday when I finally

5:13

realized my big break wasn't coming,

5:16

and I hung up my aspirations for

5:18

good. By then,

5:20

a few years of the Volsted Act

5:22

had already passed, which banned

5:24

alcohol. And while legally country

5:26

was dry as a bone, Booze

5:28

still flooded the streets of Chicago. It

5:31

was so rampant that anyone could

5:33

make money on the stuff. Even

5:35

a hic past his prime with a busted

5:37

dream. I got a job

5:39

bartending at the purple piano in Chicago's

5:42

south side. You'd never

5:44

know prohibition or Black Friday

5:46

were a thing within those stores. People

5:48

would dance and drink the night away.

5:50

The owners were Italian, but

5:53

the music was always blues or

5:55

jazz. Despite the beatings and

5:57

teasing I had received growing up, the

5:59

music had

5:59

broken through the color barrier. Black

6:02

performers packed the seats with all

6:04

white crowds.

6:05

Tolerance is distance based,

6:07

though, I guess. Fancy

6:09

white folks don't

6:10

mind color from a distance. Not

6:12

when they're a safe distance away from them on

6:14

stage or through the speakers on the

6:16

radio. They also don't

6:18

mind them waiting on them and cleaning up their

6:20

messes, But apparently, they've

6:22

got a problem with them handling their food

6:24

and drinks. This is why the

6:26

other bartenders and I were the only white

6:28

faces that worked at the purple piano.

6:32

I often received decent sized

6:34

tips from the customers, but

6:36

in truth, I had more in common with my coworkers.

6:39

I'd rather listen to them talk about music

6:41

in their day than hear the white

6:43

rich people complain about problems that I wish I

6:45

could afford. Still,

6:48

I pocketed their money all the same.

6:50

I ain't no saint, and I

6:52

never was. The purple

6:54

piano satisfied me in other ways too.

6:57

While dishing out gin and bourbon by

6:59

the barrel load, I was still close

7:01

to the music I loved. I

7:03

witnessed greatness as it happened.

7:05

And while I didn't have the talent to make it

7:07

big, my ears still worked

7:09

just fine. And after

7:11

closing, I could still strum along in

7:13

my guitar and sing. Sure.

7:16

It was an empty crown, but

7:18

it kept my younger self alive. The

7:21

dream might have died. But that

7:23

spark of hope always remained.

7:26

One night I stayed late like I always

7:28

did waiting for the last revelries

7:30

to fade The party went

7:32

later that night than most, something

7:34

about a wedding or a bachelor party.

7:37

Inside the purple piano, the

7:39

two didn't look much different.

7:41

Finally, the

7:42

last of the party stumbled out the door

7:44

and left the rest of

7:45

the staff and I to clean. I

7:48

had

7:48

just stepped out side and lit a cigarette

7:50

when I heard scratching from the bar.

7:52

Christ, it sounded

7:54

like we had rats again. If

7:56

we had any screaming dames on the dance

7:58

floor, it would have been taken out

7:59

of my check. I picked

8:01

up the baseball bat we used for the unwelcome

8:04

pests and stormed into the bar.

8:06

Ready to battle

8:07

with the venomous bastards.

8:09

Instead of rats, I

8:11

found a young black kid who bolted up from

8:13

his sea I recognized

8:15

him as one of the new hires to sweep up around

8:17

the place. He was about

8:19

the same age I was when I first came

8:21

to Chicago. But he didn't string a

8:23

sentence together in under five minutes.

8:26

Stuttering John, I remembered. That's

8:28

what everybody called him. John

8:31

didn't know me. All he saw was an

8:33

angry white man with a baseball bat,

8:36

like

8:36

any sensible black man

8:37

he turned and fled tripping

8:39

over the stool as he did. I

8:42

dropped the bat and yelled an apology

8:44

after him. But by the time I got to

8:46

the front door, the

8:47

streets were empty. I

8:50

side and grabbed the back my

8:52

head, making a note to apologize to

8:54

him the next day. I headed

8:56

back towards the bar. John

8:58

had been in such a hurry that he left behind what

9:00

he was working on. It was a

9:02

battered up piece of sheet music

9:04

and an abandoned pen.

9:06

A top of the score was

9:08

the title, Chicago or bust.

9:11

Reading over the notes, I found

9:13

my hand tapping against the side of my

9:15

leg. The notes

9:16

in the lyrics poured through me. Nursing

9:19

that beaten younger self, new

9:21

life flowed through my spirit and my

9:23

body, walking as if in

9:25

a trance, I

9:26

picked up my guitar from behind

9:27

the bar, took the stage, and

9:30

set up John's sheets. My

9:33

thumb strummed the first

9:34

chords and rhythm that vibrated through

9:36

core. Closing

9:37

my eyes. It was like I

9:39

didn't even need to see the notes. They

9:42

flowed through me into my heart.

9:44

And pulsated through my hands in a rapid

9:46

twist of cords that I

9:47

would never have been able to match before.

9:50

The lyrics did the same. All

9:53

I had to do was open my mouth

9:55

and they poured from my throat. I

9:57

didn't even need a microphone. It

9:59

was like the years of tobacco abuse never

10:02

My voice pitched high as a

10:04

schoolgirls and deep as the ocean when the

10:06

song demanded it. Kit

10:08

my soul to the dust.

10:11

I'm kidding, baby. It's

10:14

Chicago World Bus.

10:16

My guitar and my voice

10:18

echoed with the last lyrics as I

10:20

sat on the stool and felt the tears well

10:22

behind my eye. The

10:24

kid who couldn't speak without stuttering

10:26

was damned musical Savant.

10:28

It was the most beautiful thing I had

10:30

ever heard, and I was grateful

10:32

even to be a small part of it.

10:35

Clapping

10:35

snapped my eyes open, It

10:37

was just one set of heavy hands, but

10:40

they were like thunder in the empty room.

10:43

Standing closer into the light. My

10:45

mouth went dry as I saw the three piece

10:47

suit and cigar dangling from his

10:49

lips. Big Maddie

10:51

Marcon, a capo for the

10:53

Gambino crime family, and my

10:55

boss. There purple piano

10:57

was more like a playground for him,

10:59

and a place to launder money through

11:01

his less legitimate businesses.

11:03

Our bartender had been accused of stealing

11:05

from the Till, and it was said

11:07

that Mark Cohn was why we never saw

11:09

him again. Sorry, mister

11:11

Macron. I said, and

11:13

jumped to my feet. The manager said

11:15

it was okay if I played after hours.

11:17

I mean, so long as there ain't no

11:19

customers around nothing. I didn't

11:21

know anyone else was here.

11:23

Markone looked like he hadn't heard a word I

11:26

said and plucked the cigar from his

11:28

lips.

11:28

That was but beautiful. He

11:31

stressed each syllable in the

11:32

word. What's

11:33

your name? Get. I doubted I

11:36

was ten years younger than Marcon, but

11:38

I wasn't going to correct him.

11:40

Ricky, sir. Ricky

11:41

Dodds. Good

11:44

name. I mean, not a

11:46

deli, but a. Nobody's

11:48

first it. Right? Marcon barter's

11:50

joke, and knowing that he was a man

11:52

you didn't want to disagree with,

11:54

I laughed along with him and made

11:56

sure to cut it just as soon as he did.

11:58

We had an act to

11:59

call in sick. You interested in

12:02

headlining tonight? Ricky

12:04

Dodds?

12:04

My eyes widened. I

12:06

had been on stage, even

12:09

accompanying some great names before they made it

12:11

big, but it was always off to

12:13

the side. Never in the spotlight

12:15

and never in a venue as big as the

12:17

purple piano. I couldn't

12:19

believe it and I couldn't find the

12:21

words How could I achieve something like

12:23

this after giving up on my dreams?

12:26

It was all because of stuttering

12:28

John. I'm going to take that

12:30

stunned silence as a yes It almost

12:32

always is. I mean,

12:34

unless I got a gun to someone 1, but,

12:37

hey, you didn't hear that from me. Cappiche?

12:40

Marcon

12:40

reached into his coat and pulled out a

12:42

stack of bills. He thunded

12:44

out several and placed them in my hand.

12:46

It was more money than I had

12:48

ever seen in my life. Get

12:50

yourself a decent set of dicks for

12:53

tonight's show kid. And hey, if

12:55

you got more songs like that,

12:57

who knows? Maybe

12:58

we can find some more work for you.

13:01

I wrapped up the bills and stuffed them

13:03

in the breast pocket of my shirt,

13:05

warmth, radiated off them and threw

13:07

my chest. Almost as much as John's

13:09

music. I nodded,

13:11

still at a loss for words.

13:13

I took Marcon's silence as a

13:15

sign that I was dismissed. So

13:17

I slung my guitar over my back

13:19

and headed to the nearest exit. It

13:22

felt like I had just robbed a bank or

13:24

something, and I felt a dire need to

13:26

run out as soon as possible. Something

13:28

stopped me though, and I

13:30

rushed back and grabbed John's

13:32

sheet music in pen. I

13:33

spent the next hour beating on the doors

13:36

of some co worker They

13:38

answered the door with red eyes and a few

13:40

swear words. After a

13:42

few knocks though, I finally got

13:44

an idea of where John lived.

13:46

We were already on the rough side of the

13:48

tracks, but hell, the tracks didn't

13:50

go to John's neighborhood. I

13:52

was self conscious of the money, Afraid

13:54

that any would be muggers could smell it on

13:56

me. Luckily, I was in

13:58

my work

13:58

clothes and up all

13:59

night. Most of the bums loitering

14:02

on the streets looked better off than

14:04

me. It took a

14:06

while, but I finally saw him walking

14:08

up the streets. John's head

14:10

was bent low like he was dragging an anchor

14:12

around his neck. I stepped in front

14:14

of his path and called out to him.

14:16

Hey, it's John. Right?

14:18

He looked up and blinked several

14:20

times, clearing the haze from his eyes.

14:22

It took him a moment to recognize

14:24

me, but his mouth dropped open.

14:27

I

14:27

held up his sheet music before he could spin

14:29

on his heel, and it froze him for a

14:31

moment. He

14:32

bobbed lightly from one foot to the

14:35

next unsure of my intention

14:37

and ready to flee if he had to.

14:40

Sorry about before, heard the

14:42

scratching and thought we had rats again. I

14:44

held out his music toward him, and

14:46

he hesitantly reached a handout. I

14:49

smiled as his fingers wrapped around the wrinkled

14:51

sheets of paper. Hear a hell of

14:53

a music man know that?

14:55

The fear in John's expression finally

14:57

broke with a smile. The

14:58

the the the thanks.

15:00

His nickname was definitely apt.

15:02

I glanced up and down the streets and

15:04

worked out where we were. There's

15:06

a hash house not too far from here,

15:08

not the best grub, but generous

15:11

portions. You hungry? I could

15:13

practically hear his stomach growl, but

15:15

he frowned and shook his head No

15:19

money. Don't worry.

15:20

It's on me. I figured

15:22

it

15:22

was the least I could do.

15:24

But John's eyes lit up like I had

15:26

just offered him a winning lottery

15:27

ticket. Once again,

15:29

I was reminded of myself when

15:31

I first came to Chicago. How

15:34

many times had I gone without food before

15:36

booking a

15:36

gig that at least came with a sandwich?

15:38

I turned up the

15:41

streets and John wasn't far

15:43

behind. The diner

15:45

was just like any other. Nothing

15:47

special about it,

15:48

but filled with the smell of burnt bacon.

15:50

And heavy with smoke from the paying customers. It

15:53

was also close enough to the poor side of town

15:56

that segregation wasn't heavily

15:58

influenced. Even

15:59

still, the

16:00

blonde waitress eyed John suspiciously

16:03

as he sat down across for me. That

16:05

was

16:05

a lot better than open hostility.

16:08

So

16:08

I decided to chalk it up as a win.

16:11

I ordered

16:11

some eggs and toast and when John

16:13

decided to do the same. I added

16:15

a couple of other dishes on top of

16:17

his order. I had finished my

16:19

breakfast while John dug into a

16:21

stack of flapjacks with unrestrained

16:23

joy. It had definitely been a

16:25

few days since he had a meal.

16:27

When he finally popped the last slice

16:29

of bacon in his mouth, I offered him

16:31

a cigarette, but he shook his head.

16:34

I sparked up and sipped my coffee

16:36

before clean ring my throat. John,

16:39

do you know who Matty Marcon

16:41

is? He flinched and nodded.

16:43

Does it does it bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla

16:45

bla blas. That's right.

16:47

Well, John, I was

16:49

playing that song you wrote, and mister

16:52

Marcon heard it. And

16:54

even better, he

16:55

liked it. I reached

16:56

into my pocket and fished out

16:59

several of the bills, careful not

17:01

to flash the cash on this side of

17:03

town. I finished my coffee and hit the

17:05

bills under the cup. Then I slid them

17:07

over to John. He liked it a

17:09

lot. John's eyes went wide

17:11

as saucers

17:11

as he lifted the cup.

17:14

He looked at

17:14

the bills the same way he had the sheet music

17:16

when I returned it, like they

17:18

were bait in a trap, and he

17:20

was worried that he couldn't see the snares.

17:23

Take the money, John. It's yours.

17:25

You earned it. I

17:27

waited until he stuffed the bills in

17:29

his pocket. He did it fast, like

17:31

he was afraid they would disappear. I

17:33

had done the same when Markone

17:36

paid me.

17:37

John,

17:38

I ain't blow and smoke up your ass.

17:40

That song? One of

17:41

the greatest I've ever heard. How

17:43

come you're not on stage somewhere? John

17:46

Shuky said,

17:48

you can't decide.

17:50

Giving up on

17:52

the word, then tapped his lips with

17:54

two fingers. No good

17:58

for singing. He held up his

17:59

hands and showed trumbling fingers.

18:02

No

18:03

good for playing.

18:07

Simpathy

18:07

filled my heart as I

18:08

flick the ashes from my cigarette. Poor

18:11

kid

18:11

was gifted with

18:12

limitless music imagination. But

18:15

his body wouldn't let him live up to his potential.

18:17

But at the

18:18

same time, I couldn't help

18:20

but think it was another sign of faith

18:22

of God

18:23

rewarding me for worshiping him in

18:25

my way. Here we were.

18:28

Him with the imagination but not

18:30

the skills. And me with the

18:32

skills but without the

18:34

talent. What

18:34

were the odds? I

18:36

tapped the side of my head. But really

18:38

good writing. He got any

18:40

more songs, John, or is

18:42

Chicago robust, a one hit wonder?

18:45

John

18:45

smiled and reached into the dirty satchel he carried

18:47

at his side. He pulled

18:49

out several other peeping sheets of music,

18:52

and I had to stop myself

18:53

from snatching them up.

18:55

As my eyes glanced

18:56

over the notes, I could already

18:58

hear the music filling my mind and

19:00

rising to my throat just begging

19:02

to

19:02

be sung. Right.

19:05

Here's what I'm thinking, John.

19:07

I can play and sing, but

19:09

can't write where the lick.

19:11

You've got the opposite problem. I

19:14

stacked up his sheets of music.

19:16

You write the songs for me and I'll

19:18

play them for the crowd. I'll take the

19:20

credit as the former, you get the credentials as a

19:23

writer. How's that sound? John

19:25

smile grew

19:25

even wider.

19:28

Sounds

19:28

good. Sir.

19:30

Don't call

19:31

me, sir. My tone made

19:32

him flinch, so I softened it.

19:34

I ain't your boss, John. I'm

19:36

your partner. We're going

19:38

to split everything fifty

19:39

fifty, which means the cash

19:42

too.

19:42

So, you call me by my name,

19:45

Ricky Dodds. I held up

19:47

my hand. And John reached up and took

19:49

mine.

19:49

Johnny. Green.