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Chapter 18: The Silver Slipper
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Eighteen The Silver Slipper We were Wdut dup in the Big Muddy dnd the bigfoot Sdid to push on. - 'The Big Muddy" - Pelt' Seeger Budwell and I decided to take a taxi into town instead of waiting to ride the buses, and aJl four of us sat in the backseat for the ride into Columbus. A light mist was falling and Brook Benton's "Rainy Night in Georgia" was on the radio. None of us knew much about places to go, but I had heard of a place called the Silver Slipper and asked the taxi driver if he knew where it was. "The Silver Slipper1 Sure," he said. "It's over the tracks, if you know what I mean. I don't think you want to take these girls there." I knew that the Silver Slipper was in the black section of town and that it had a reputation for catering to soldiers on pass. If Mary O'Hara hadn't been so distant and unfriendly and if 1 hadn't exceeded my drink limit, I probably wouldn't have even thought about taking her there, but I was dis~ rurbed by her attitude and emboldened by the evening. I expected Budwell to protest, but he was always open for anything. "The Silver Slipper it is. What time do they stay open to1~ he asked the taxi driver. "They're supposed to dose at two on Saturday night, but that place plays by its own rules. I'll take you, but you better be careful there, espe~ cially in those fancy uniforms." We soon pulled up to a large building set back from the road. Loud soul music floated Out of the doorway, where two large black men stood talking to an equally large white man in a sheriff's uniform. "How are you boys doing ronight?" the sheriff asked. "Fine," said Budwell. "We're celebrating." "What're you all celebrating?" "We just gOt back from the Nam, and we're here with our wives ro hear some good soul music ro celebrate that we made it back alive," Budwelilied. "Well, we're mighty proud ofyou boys. Step right in. They'll rake good care of you in the Silver Slipper." "Thank you much," said Budwell, and I nodded and we walked in. k we were going in, if seemed to dawn on the sheriffthat we were not wearing regular uniforms. He called our something and gestured toward his coat. Budwell waved at him, and we slipped in the door. The place was crammed with GIs, mainly enlisted men and a lot of short-haired guys who were probably military. Fifteen or twenty black women in slinky dresses, most of them with large Afros, sat or strolled about rhe large room. Several large black men stood near the door, and another white sheriff stood at the bar. There was no band. The music blasted au[ of latge speakers attached to the wall at the end of the bar. The bartender, a young black guy, tended rhe eight track tape player. We were the only guys in dress blues in the place, and our dates were the only white women there, at least at first. The group looked at us warily ; even the white GIs seemed ro see us as outsiders with our dates in their evening dresses and corsages. Budwell and I ordered Schlitz for all of us, and we sat back at a table in rhe corner. Mary O'Hara still maintained her cool distance, and I had just about given up on her. In a few minutes the door opened and in came Candidate Garren with his date in her evening gown. We called to him, and he came over ro sit with us. We had not mer his date earlier, and he introduced us ro her, Dinah Jefferson, a nursing student from Waycross, Georgia. "Hi, I'm JeffAdams. Actually Jefferson Adams. We may be kinfolks," 1 laughed, shaking her hand. She took my hand, looked at me without laughing and said, "Y es, my family is kin to Thomas Jefferson, I've always heard. Yours is too?" "No, I'm actually named for Jefferson Davis, I think. I don't know about the last name." 144 Fort &nning Blu(5 [54.205.179.155] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 04:12 GMT) "Jefferson Davis? He had something to do with the Civil War?" "President of the Confederacy, I'm afraid." She looked at me silently for a...