Machine Gun Kelly's and the Smoking Trumpet.

[oneighty]

And 'Ratface' the trombone man.

In Myrtle Beach many years ago the glass front of a large night club was covered over with discarded wooden house doors. The doors were painted many colors; green, blue, red, yellow and more. A large sign was added 'Machine Gun Kelly's.'A smaller sign on the entrance door announced the opening date would be featuring a live Dixie Land Jazz Band.

Tricia and I attended opening night. Inside was a long bar to the left and a small stage to the right. It was a large building; probably hold a hundred people. Beer was served legally, whiskey too, but not legal at the time.

The band arrives. The ratface trombonist was a little guy wearing facial hair which added to his ratface appearance. I did not like him. They had a trumpet player, tuba, piano, clarinet and of course Ratface, the Trombonist.

And oh they could play. They were music Majors and Teachers from Newberry College up in North Carolina. The trumpet player was excellent. Ratface the Trombonist was even better. The Trumpet man often laid down his horn in disgust because he could not match the skills of Ratface.

One night we were offered a special treat. The father of the trumpet player was there too with his trumpet. They are playing a free for all 'When the Saints Come Marching In.' The father with the trumpet wandered around the crowd trailed by the other musicians. From the bell of father's trumpet steam emerged, a phenomena I had never seen. Boy he was good. Later I learned he was a philharmonic musician.

Ratface and I became friends as the summer wore on. He was really a nice guy a fine musician. Until I met him I thought I could play trombone, and raging jealousy on my part caused me to call him Ratface.

180, Failed Trombonist. Sigh.

[JitterbugPerfume]

1. Darn that Ratface

I bet he can't write stories like you can though