Jerry Lee Lewis at the Palomino

I was working for Leon Russell, the Master of Space and Time, and went along with
a co-worker, Steve Ripley, a guitar player who was also from Tulsa, as Leon was,
and invented some kind of synth-guitar.  Maybe. Anway, he was a cool guy.  We went
to the Palomino in North Hollywood, (where my mother used to work as a waitress
before I was born) to see Jerry Lee Lewis.  I was about to see The Killer, the God, the
Bastard of all Bastards or Mother of all Bastards or what-evA, and Steve and I were
led into the cramped dressing room of the Palomino.  fucking moving, living legend,
cockily sitting in a corner behind one empty Jack Daniels bottle and another half-
empty (or, you know, half full), laughing, smoking, and sharp as a blade was Jerry
Lee.   Now Steve Ripley would be called a reserved guy, or at least I certainly knew him
to be so.  Super conservative and shit.  But he was just fucking giddy.  I can't remember
if Jerry Lee had asked who we were or if Steve was just pompous enough (in a good way,
I guess) to take the lead and introduce us, but either way, it was mentioned that we
worked for Leon Russell.   "You work for Leon?" he said, eyes half-lidded, chin up.
I nodded dumbly.  I mean, I did have purple hair at the time.   He nodded,dragged
his cigarette, swigged the JD."Leon" pause.  "He was ok 'til he married the nigger.
I felt Steve set like concrete.  I felt the air go out of the room, like a giant suck.
Jerry Lee got up, hitched up his pants and moved towards us, towards the dressing
room door.  In slow motion. In my direction.  First towards me, then beside me, and
almost past me, and then I felt a sharp, quick grab of my ass.  Then he slid out the
door and out to the stage.  There I was.I later told Leon what he'd said and I don't
think I should have, but then I was young and drunk on the environment and proximity.
But then again..Jerry Lee Lewis was..well, An asshole.
 

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