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ollars in the evening。
I shucked out of my black cowboy shirt； which was getting dirty around the collar； even though it didn't show very much； and changed into a clean white shirt。 I retied my red silk neckerchief； slipped into my corduroy suit and looked at myself in the dresser mirror。 I looked clean and presentable。 The red kerchief looked good with a white shirt and my gray…green corduroy suit。 The cheap straw cowboy hat pushed back from my forehead was just the right touch for a would…be guitar player。 I had burned my name into the yellow box of my guitar with a hot wire two years before； so all I had to do was write something simple on a piece of paper and get going。
I took a fresh sheet of paper out of my notebook； sat down at the desk and looked at it； trying to figure out a strong selling point for my slender abilities。 At last it came to me； a simple straightforward statement of fact。 In large capital letters I wrote JOB on the page； and put the slip of paper in my shirt pccket。 If a prospective owner was interested in the word JOB he would give me an audition。 If I got an audition； my guitar would have to talk for me。
I checked the little square felt…covered box inside the case； and there were plenty of extra plastic picks and two new strings wrapped in wax paper。 As I started toward the door； carrying my guitar； I caught a glimpse of my grim； determined expression in the mirror。 I almost laughed。 I made an obscene gesture with my thumb at my grinning reflection and left the room。
The time was only ten thirty。 There were dozens of bars； cabarets and beer…and…wine joints in Jacksonville； and I decided to cover them all； one by one； until I found a job。
I entered the first bar I came to down the street and handed the slip of paper to the bartender。 He glanced at it； gave it back and pointed to the door。
At the bar on the next corner I tried a different tactic。 I had learned a lesson in the first bar。 Before presenting my slip of paper to the man in the white jacket； I made the sign of the tall one； and put change on the bar to pay for the beer。 Beer is the easiest drink there is to order； whether you can talk or not。 No matter how noisy a place is you can always get a bartender's attention by holding stiff hands out straight； the right hand approximately one foot above the left。 This gesture will always produce a beer； draft if they have it； or a can of some brand if they do not。
〃Sorry； buddy；〃 the bartender returned my slip of paper； 〃but I don't have a music and dancing license。 I couldn't hire you if I wanted to。〃
I finished my glass of beer and returned to the sidewalk。 A license for music and dancing had never occurred to me； but that simple requirement narrowed my search。 I decided to bee more selective。 After bypassing several unlikely bars； and walking a half…dozen blocks； I came to a fairly nice…looking cabaret。 There was a small blue winking neon sign in the window that stated Chez Vernon。 The entranceway was between a men's haberdashery and a dosed movie theater。 To the left of the bar entrance another door opened into the package store； which was also a part of the nightclub； and there was a sandwich board on the sidewalk announcing that the James Boys were featured inside every night except Sunday。
There were four eight…by…ten photos of the James Boys mounted on the board； and I studied them for a moment before I went inside。 They wore their hair long； almost to the shoulder； but they had on Western…style clothes。 They were evidently a country music group。 In the smiling photos two of them had Spanish guitars like mine； one held an electric guitar and the remaining member peeped out from behind a bass。 I entered the bat
The bar was in a fairly narrow corridor…most of the space it should have had was crowded out by the partitioning for the package store…but there were approximately twentyfive stools； and a short service bar at the far end。 Only one bartender was on duty； and there was only one customer sitting at the first stool。 The customer sat with his arms locked behind his back glaring down distastefully at a double shot of whiskey。 At night； with a fair…sized crowd； a bar this long would require at least two bartenders。
Beyond the bar there was a large square room with a small dance floor； a raised triangular platform in the corner for the musicians and two microphones。 There were about thirty…five small circular tables； with twisted wire ice…cream parlor chairs stacked on top of them。 The walls of the large room had been painted in navy blue。 Silver cardboard stars had been pasted at random upon the wall and ceiling to simulate a night sky。 The ceiling was black； and the scattered light fixtures on the ceiling were in various pastel colors。
Between the bar and nightclub section there were two lavatories； with their doors recessed about a foot into the wall。 A crude effort at humor had been attempted on the rest…room doors： One was labeled SETFERS and the other POINTERS。 After sizing the place up； I sat down at the far end of the bar and made the sign of the tall one。 As I reached for the stein with my left hand； I handed the bartender the slip of paper with my right。
〃I only work here；〃 he said indifferently； eyeing my guitar。 〃The James Boys are supposed to play out the month； but the boss is in the back。〃 He pointed to a curtain covering an arched doorway near the right corner of the bandstand。 〃Go ahead and talk to him if you want to。〃 His face colored slightly as he realized I couldn't talk； but he smiled and shrugged his shoulders。 〃His name is Mr。 Vernon。 Lee Vernon。〃
As soon as I finished my beer； I picked up my guitar； dropped a half dollar on the bar and headed for the back； pushing the curtain to one side。 The hallway was short。 There was a door leading to an alley； and two doors on either side。 I opened the first door on the right； but it was a small dressing room； I knocked at the door opposite the dressing room and didn't enter until I heard 〃e in：；
For a nightclub owner； Lee Vernon was a much younger man than I expected to meet。 He was under thirty； with a mass of black curls； a smiling well…tanned face； and gleaming china…blue eyes。 There were three open ledgers on his gray metal desk and a few thick Manila folders。 He tapped his large white teeth with a pencil and raised his black eyebrows。 I removed my guitar from the case before I handed him the slip of paper。
Lee Vernon laughed aloud when he saw the word JOB and shook his head from side to side with genuine amusement。 〃A nonsinging guitar player！〃 he exclaimed； still smiling。 〃I never thought I'd see the day。 Go ahead〃…he looked at my name burned into the guitar box…〃Frank； is it？〃
I nodded； and wiped my damp fingers on my jacket so the plastic pick wouldn't slip in my fingers。 I put my left foot on a chair； and cradled the instrument over my knee。
〃Play anything； Frank；〃 Vernon smiled。 〃I don't care。 I've never turned down an excuse to quit working in my life。〃
I vamped a few chords and then played 〃Empty Pockets〃 all the way through。 Mr。 Vernon listened attentively； tapping his pencil on the desk in time with the music。 This