I mentally gulped, an came back with my usual attempt to make light
of bad situations: "I already have bad eyesight, J.C., I don't need
itto be worse."
He was totally boggled by my reply (or maybe by the fact I knew who
he was) and mumbled something angry and shuffled off without
fulfilling his threat.
On another occasion, I shared a bottle of wine with him and a
couple of other friends in the entryway to what was then the Fox
and the Hounds, a coffeehouse run by Leo von Riegler, and one night
in the wee hours heard beautiful harping reverberating in the air
shaft at the cheap hotel where I lived for $5 a week. It was a
fantastic, soulful sound, and I was enthralled. He apparently
was staying with someone there for the night.
I also heard that the reason he drank so much was because of
something that happened when he was a young boy in the South.
According to the story, he and his older brother were walking down
the road on a hot day and were thirsty. They knocked on the front
door of a cafe and were told to use the back door. When they went
to the back door the older brother apparentlyassumed he could walk
in to get the drink of water. When he opened the door, the owner
(or whoever) fatally wounded him with a shotgun. I have no idea if
this is true, it is just the story that made the North Beach rounds.
A year or two later I saw him perform at folk festivals with his
handcarved dancing dolls (sorry I'm having a senior moment about
what they are called) ... He apparently had gotten his act together
vis-a-vis not drinking and had become a successful folk circuit
act. I was glad to see this. I still have an old J.C.
Burris LP somewhere in my music archives. I'll have to dig it out.
He was a fine harper!
Bob Loomis
Concord CA USA
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