First time I came to New Orleans I was fifteen-years-old, ran away from home. I got dressed up in my band uniform, picked up my trombone and just started hitchhiking. I looked so young, every ride, I’d tell them that I just missed the band bus and all they had to do was get me up the road so I could catch up with the rest of the band.When I got here, I played my trombone on street corners. If I could get together the money for a room, I slept there. If not, I’d sleep under a tree. Nobody ever bothered me. It was a great time.
This was during Vietnam, and all the service men were walking around in uniforms. One night, I’m playing for a bunch of sailors dressed up in their whites. They offered me twenty dollars to play at a party. It turned out to be a hotel room with two twin beds and about twenty-five sailors lined up for two whores. I’m fifteen years old, very much a virgin, and not feeling so comfortable in there, so after about ten minutes, I was out the door. I have no idea where I am. All the sudden, a police car squeals on the brakes and the officer rolls down the window, “What the fuck are you doing here, honky?” I was walking right though the middle of the projects.
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