So what happened between those entries in the Moonpie book? Between Me saying I was fucked because I had to go, and Vances entry that said I was fucked because I did go?
________________________________________I’d known for several weeks, I guess, that the expedition was off. Vance had let me know he wasn’t going. As we’ve mentioned, I’d called my recruiter and had my records forwarded to Memphis. The trip was going to be my last hurrah, but now it was unraveling. You have to remember that this was back in the days before there was email, or FedEx. It took a week or more for things to get transferred around.
My fear was not so much “Oh. What will the Army do to me?” as it was “Oh. What will my dad do to me?” I had dicked up my leg while hiking a few months earlier, resulting in a full-leg cast. Dad thought I’d done it on purpose to get out of my enlistment—forgetting, of course, that I was the one who enlisted on my own.
It was a week before I was due to show up in Memphis. My mom was getting ready to walk out the door for work. My stomach was in knots. She walked out the door and I ran after her. I tried to tell her, but I just couldn’t get the words out and started crying. I don’t remember what it was she thought was wrong, but I think she found the truth to be a bit of a relief. The funny thing is that, after all the fear of my dad, I don’t remember his response at all.
June 21st, 1976 my parents put me on a plane to Memphis with a layover at Dallas-Ft. Worth. It was my first time flying alone. Making my connection in Dallas was a bit weird, that whole circular thing they got going on at DFW and all.
I got into Memphis late at night. Everything was closed. Dad had given me a twenty for cab fare and to get a bite to eat, but there was nothing available. The place was pretty well deserted. I sat down in a chair to wait it out. I drifted off to sleep. In the middle of the night, I woke up to see that there were three black guys, about my age, sitting at the far end of the terminal. One of them was watching me. I fell asleep again and when I woke up, they were sitting a bit closer. The next time, they were even closer.
Now, I guess I need to say right here that Albuquerque is a very un-Black-folk city. They call them the invisible minority here. When I was in high school I knew three black kids. I was actually surprised one day when I walked into a meeting of the Black Student Union and saw about 30 kids. They always seemed pretty friendly to me. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to think of these guys in the Memphis airport moving closer and closer.
Eventually the sun came up and I went to find a cab. Again, black kids coming up to try to help me. “You need a cab? I’ll get you a cab. Give me your money. I’ll go get the cab.” I guess at this point I should mention that Memphis is a very Black city. It was very different. I got a cab (on my own) and told the guy where I was going. He asked if I had money. I showed him the Twenty and he flipped. “Man. I ain’t got change for no damn twenny dollahs!” So we had to drive around to a couple of bars and find some. Finally I found one (packed full at 8:30 a.m.) that would break the bill. A whacked-out patron of the place came up to try and sell me some cocaine.
The airport in Memphis, in 1976 was as far from the "city life" as you could get. You would be miles from anything. There were two places to hang out in 1976 while in Memphis and that was "Highland strip", a quarter mile strip of Highland ave. with bars and clubs. It was also home to WHBQ radio, home of George Kline and the "WHB cuties", Georges own possie of long legged blondes, long before possies were even heard of. George was also a regular at Graceland with Elvis. The other place was Overton Square, several blocks of the same night-life Highland offered. Rick would never get there for the true Memphis experience. Bealle street in those days had the clubs but you had better be ready for anything in those days before the "urban renewal" of Bealle street. Music, dope, chicks and hookers were the fare in those days.A lot of drinking and drug use was also a everyday ritual on Bealle. Memphis could be a handful for a kid from Albuquerque, even if he did have twenty dollars. Wow.
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