On the Coat Tales of a Gambler
Scarpone, Benny, Driver and Woody are in Memphis for the Fourth of July. Woody is the storyteller.
Going to Memphis Part II – I was so dumb.
I couldn’t get to sleep. Not because I wasn’t tired. I was flat out, but I was wound up like a top at the same time. Tossing and turning in bed, the luring beat of a blues rhythm section wouldn’t let me sleep. My heart seemed to be pounding in rhythm with the bass line. Part of me just wanted to crash and get some sleep, yet there was another part of me that wanted to be in the thick of the party. I could hear that the music was not far away, on Beale Street.
There was a quiet knocking at my room door, followed by Woody, are you awake? It was Benny. I opened the door. Benny said, “Good, you are not sleeping either, let’s get out of here and check the scene. Get the keys from Driver, what do you say?” I knew why I had to get the keys; there was no way Driver would turn the keys over to Benny.
With Scarpone’s car keys, Benny and I headed off for Beale Steet. As it turned out, we were close enough to walk the few blocks. It was not my smartest idea. Instead of walking the few blocks to Beale Street, I made a dumb decision to take Scarpone’s Lincoln. Benny influenced me by saying how would it look if we were to pick up a couple of chicks and have to hoof it back to the rooms blocks away. It would have been just a few minutes to walk to Beale Street, however the mind of a young risk-taking gambler can justify any action, no matter the risk or the regret.
We had the windows down in the Lincoln; we could hear the music. It was like following the aroma of temptingly delicious food, floating in the air from an obscure café. I followed the alluring sound of blues music and parked the Lincoln up on Beale Street. The night air was still warm, and thick with humidity. We mistakenly left the windows down after I parked the car. In those days, the paranoia of petty crime hardly existed.
With three blocks of nightclubs, we had our choice. We picked one with great sounding blues; the joint was overflowing with people outside the door, Memphis Slim was playing there. People were squeezed in from the bar out onto the street. We wedged our way in, Benny pushed his way to the bar. To my good luck I spied a single girl all dressed up looking nice. She agreed to have a dance with me and then we sat down for a drink. Alcohol was the last thing I needed in my fatigue condition. We sipped on whiskey sours, and we danced. In the close embrace of a slower dance, I took a chance to ask the woman if she wanted to leave with me. She said she would check in with her girlfriend. I told her that I was with a buddy, maybe we could work out a double date. I told her I had a new car. The next thing I know, Benny and I made our way, through the tangle of people, with the girls in tow. Back on the street, we headed to where I had parked the Lincoln.
As we walked approached the Lincoln, I could see that someone was leaning on the right front fender. At the very same moment that I saw him, he saw me and jumped to his feet. He turned briefly as if calling out to someone behind him. He backed away from the car. The four of us continued walking until we reached the car. The man, still standing away, asked if we owned the car. Benny says, “What if we do?” Then, from the backseat, a voice said, “We want you to take us for a ride.”
Talking through his teeth, so his lips wouldn’t move, Benny tells me to slip him the keys, which I did. Benny answers the voice in the dark with “Yes, this is my car.” The man who was standing nearby, walked up closer to the car. He began to stall us with conversation asking what we were doing down on Beale so late at night, and were we lost, noting the plate from Alabama. Benny sussed the situation being from New York and took the lead.
Benny says, no we are not lost, we can give you a lift, if you want to get into the back, the four of us will squeeze in the front. The voice says, “Now you are talking.”
Benny pulled open the back door offering the man standing outside, to take a seat. Then, Benny walked in front of me and the girls, again, speaking quietly, says, “I’ll go around, stay here, don’t…” and then in a louder voice so the troublemakers in the car could hear, he finishes with, “Get in the car. I will unlock the door.”
Benny pretended to grab the seat adjustment under the seat, but he was after a gun Scarpone kept there as a back-up. He started the Lincoln, and then he leaned over to the passenger door, as if to open it. Instead, he locked it, making sure I couldn’t make a mistake of ignoring what he told me. Then, quick as a cat, Benny revved the engine and dumped the clutch, abruptly pulling away with the two guys in the backseat.
The two girls didn’t even say goodbye, running back the way we had come. I stood there stunned as I processed what had just happened. Benny’s last words to me were stay here, don’t get in the car. I lit up a smoke and paced about waiting impatiently. Three cigarettes later, Benny pulls up in the Lincoln. I could not express my feelings of relief but to say aloud, “Thank you Jesus.”
Benny shouted through the open window, “Who the F… are you talking to? What’d you do with the girls? Did I take too long? Get in the car Woody and give me a smoke!” Typical of Benny’s rat-ta-tat-tat way of speaking.
Benny told me that he knew the guy in the backseat had a gun. He saw a glint of light from the chrome barrel of an automatic pistol. That’s why he opened the door for the other guy; he sneaked a quick look inside the car to confirm the pistol. He wanted both guys in the car and me and the girls outside.
After he pulled away, Benny pretended to go along with the guy’s scheme, telling them that he knew they were jacking the car. He went on to say there was no reason to clutter up their plans with me and the girls tagging along. Benny told the guys that he was going to stop the car down a side street and let them have the car. Then he told the guy with the gun, that he knew he had an automatic. So, before he was going to stop, he wanted the guy to toss the clip over to the front seat and to eject the shell in the chamber. Benny drove down a darkened street and stopped the car. Benny told the guys he would set the brake and leave the car running, but he wanted to get out of the car first, which he did. Next, Benny opened the door for the guy with the gun telling him, “It’s all yours.” When the guy moved forward, headfirst to get out, Benny coldcocks him with brass knuckles, and the would-be thief fell unconscious, to the curb. Benny pulled Scarpone’s pistol from his waistband and warns the other guy with, “Run or you’re done.”
The carjacking ruined the night except for how it ended. It was about three in the morning, and we headed back to our rooms. About half past eight, I was back on my feet. I was still dressed from the night out. I rounded up the other guys and we drove over to Mya’s place. Scarpone answered the door, his first words were, “You look like shit then, where the hell’ya been?” We were late getting to Mya’s. I started to explain that Benny and I couldn’t sleep, and we met some girls. Scarpone interrupted, with “Never mind, I know the story. Let’s get some coffee and breakfast. You, really look like you could use it!” And that was that. Neither Benny nor I ever brought it up again.
After we got into the car with Driver and Benny, Scarpone says, “How about we grab a bite in down on Beale Street and then hear some morning blues?”
On the Coat Tales of a Gambler continues in Episode – 18
Going to Memphis Part III – Winning is everything.