John Belushi on Bourbon Street
Pete Townshend on Bourbon Street
French Quarter Crime
Street People of the French Quarter
Smitty the Singing Waiter of Bourbon Street
(every once in a while i find some shit so priceless i Blanche myself)
John Belushi on Bourbon Street
I don't remember the exact time frame, but one year John Belushi came into Judah Poe's on Bourbon Street while we were performing.
He watched for a while and on our break he came backstage and made friends with the band. He was obviously wired on cocaine.
It was the first year of Saturday Night Live and not a lot of people knew who he was.
He asked if he could get up with us and sing a few tunes and we said "Sure."
His performance was nothing less than wild. He did his "Joe Rocker" impersonation. He swung the mike around and around above his head by the cable.
He was all over the stage, bumping into amplifiers. We thought he was going to tear up our equipment.
At one point he sang while lying down on the stage floor and poured beer on his head.
He was funny and nuts. The audience didn't know how to take him and they didn't really know who he was.
In the course of a week John came back and performed with us 4 or 5 more times.
Pete Townshend on Bourbon Street
Pete Townshend, guitarist for The Who, stumbled into Chuck's one night, when we played there. He carried a half empty bottle of wine, or who knows what was in the bottle. The rule is that a club owner would never let anyone in with their own bottle because, of course
they want to sell drinks.
But for Pete an exception was made and he was allowed in.
Pete had a person with him who didn't look to be his friend, but an employee whose job it was to keep Pete out of trouble and look after him.
Anyway, after a while we convinced Pete to get up and play one with us.
He was so "wasted" he could barely get through "Johnny B. Good"
French Quarter Crime
My best friend in Salt Creek was, and still is, "Uncle" Sam Alfano. We lived close to each other and usually took turns driving to work on Bourbon Street.
The crime in New Orleans has always been really bad, especially in the French Quarter. There is a big "project" next to the French Quarter and I know for a fact that there were people whose job was to go to the French Quarter each night and commit crimes and rob tourists.
It was always late when we got off work and we walked to the lot where Sam's truck was parked. Sam had an old truck, so old that the hood did not lock from inside the cab of the truck. You could open the hood from outside. Sam's truck battery was getting old so he had purchased a new battery. We got in the truck, he turned the key and nothing happened. We got out, looked under the hood and sure enough, Sam's brand new battery had been stolen.
So Sam put the old battery back in the truck and it seemed to work OK. A few days later went got off work, got in the truck, Sam turned the key and nothing. They had stolen his old battery.
Now Sam was really pissed. He bought another new battery and got a chain and padlock, and locked the hood so no one could open it. A few days later we got off work, walked to the lot and discovered his truck was missing. This time they had stolen his whole truck!
You just had to laugh, but at the time Sam didn't think it was funny.
The police found Sam's truck a few days later on the outskirts of town. It seems that when the thieves were driving the truck away, it sprang a radiator leak and overheated. It was left on the side of the road. Sam got his truck back.
He used to dream and fantasize about wiring a booby trap so the next thief would get electrocuted and die.
SAM was later diagnosed as a psychopath who blamed all of his made up problems on black people from the Projects.
One night he was murdered while driving by the projects yelling epithets wildly from his truck window.
Street People of the French Quarter
On Bourbon Street there were a lot of creepy street people, some real characters and street performers.
There was the New Orleans Kid. He was a street person who was a singer, songwriter and played guitar. He ended up waiting tables and being a bouncer at Judah Pe's where we played.
There was Miss Ruthie, the Duck Lady. she was a little old lady, who was retarded and she would go from club to club at night, sit at the bar, drink wine for free and bum cigarettes. In the daytime she would walk around the French Quarter with eight or ten ducks following her around. She became an institution in the French Quarter and the press put out numerous articles about the Duck Lady of Bourbon Street.
There was the Chicken Man. He was a street performer, voodoo enthusiast who got his name from Andy Antippas who told him to bite the heads off of chickens to entertain the tourists.
There was Pork Chop, a little old black man that dressed like a bum, who went around from club to club, tap danced, then passed a tip jar.
The tourist would think
"Look at the poor old black man, let's give him some money."
This was just a job for Pork Chop. Occasionally he would come into our club when he was off work with his wife.
They were both decked out in fine clothes and diamond rings. Pork Chop had a brand new Cadillac.
i'm sorry. i am just now realizing that this is the most racist thing i've ever read.
Smitty, the Singing Waiter of Bourbon Street
I met Smitty for the first time when we played at Judah Pe's. He was a waiter, janitor, and did just about anything and everything that the owner asked him to do.
At some point he must have realized that he needed a gimmick or a character, either to fit in or maybe make more tips.
His costume evolved to the point where he wore cowboy boots, shorts, a blond wig, a cowboy hat and wore makeup.
He was not gay, just mentally challenged.
But the look on the tourist's face when they saw him was priceless.
They thought he was gay or at least weird.
During the course of our performance we would announce
"And now ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you tonight. The Singing Waiter of Bourbon Street is going to get onstage and sing with us."
We really built him up, and he would walk on stage while we played "travel" music.
He would then sing a song like "Proud Mary" or "How Great Thou Art"
with a real non-musical, monotone style. It was terrible singing. We kept a straight face and the tourists laughed their heads off.
I guess it didn't bother Smitty. He did it just about every night and probably made more in tips because of it.
Smitty followed us from club to club as a waiter as we changed jobs.
I don't know what ever happened to Smitty.
