A River Between

The first time I was ever in a Gay bar, was the summer of 1991, while I was in New Orleans for the national convention of Phi Mu Alpha, a men’s music fraternity. This was at a time in my life when I was not “out” as a Gay person. Not to mention, I wasn’t yet comfortable with sexuality at all. Therefore, I too, was still a bit homophobic.

On one evening, some of us decided to go looking for piano bars. The hotel we were staying at happened to have its own piano bar, where the entertainer, Janet, told us of a small out of the way bar on Bourbon St. called Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop, where a little old woman named Lily had been playing for years. After hearing Janet rave about this notoriously cynical woman, we decided to hike to this club.

After arriving at what looked like an almost dilapidated farm shed of a piano bar, we noticed the piano in the back, with what looked to be “the regulars” around the piano. There she was - a sixty year old woman sitting there, playing piano, singing her heart out, and being really snide at times to her patrons. They all loved it. I think that was half the reason they came to see her play. She played whatever she thought of, even if she didn’t know all of it.

“Where are you from?”, she would shout to a new customer.
“New York!”, he would shout back.
“It’s up to you, New York, New York…..that’s all I know on that one!”, she would snap, getting a rousing laugh and applause from those sitting around the piano.

The evening kept wearing on, and I and the other two guys I came with were probably there for about an hour and a half, just taking it all in. This snappy, cynical, funny old woman was incredible.

“Give me a love song, people!”

The crowd would shout out love songs, and she would simply snap - “Don’t know it!”, “Don’t know it!”, “No one knows what love is anyway nowadays!”

One woman said, “We love YOU, Lily!”

” …that’s a different kind of love, people!”, which drew tons of laughter.

About this time, a man I was sitting next to, introduced himself to me and asked me where I was from, what I did, etc. - just really light small talk, and naturally I thought nothing of it, and answered all of his questions quite pleasantly. The next thing I notice is his hand brushing up against my back and onto my shoulder. I froze! I didn’t know what to do. I had always found myself very accepting of friends who were Gay, but this was the first time that I was hit on by a man. Like I said before, I wasn’t out myself, and had no experience with this realm, and was very scared. I didn’t even consider myself to really be Gay at that time. I didn’t even know I was in a Gay bar! Whoah!

I finally turned to this man, and said “I’m sorry, but I’m here with that guy,” and pointed to one of the other guys that I arrived with. He apologized and stopped.

Feeling uncomfortable, I moved toward Dallas, a fraternity brother, and told him about what had just happened, how uncomfortable I was, and how I wanted to leave. He and Scott were both too preoccupied talking to Lily, and pretty much ignored me.

I remember what I heard Lily saying, and later what Dallas and Scott recanted of their conversations with her. The following is kindof a melding of what I heard and what they relayed.

“You see that guy? He’s got AIDS. Lots of these guys do. Lots of my friends do. God I love ‘em all to death. I suppose they keep my going. Keep me playing. Maybe I keep them going a little too, they always seem to come here. A lot of them tired, just like me. I’ve been playing here for about 20 years. Not too many days off in a year. Lost lots of friends…good friends. Suppose someday it’ll be my turn to go too.”

These words seemed to hit me hard. One moment I’m laughing at this crazy woman, the next, I get hit on, then I’m almost in tears. I tell you, this night made quite an impression on me.

I had an opportunity to go back to New Orleans in 1992 on a choir tour with Mount Mercy College. I looked so forward to going back to The Blacksmith Shop to see Lily again. After all, I had told almost all of my friends the whole story, and they were all so eager to see this woman too. (I must say, I told the story about that night quite well…)

When we all got there, the piano was bare, no one playing, no one sitting around it. I asked the bartender if she still played there.

“No she hasn’t played for a few months now. She’s been real sick. She lives around the corner here if you want to see her. Do you know her well?”

“No,” I replied, “But I remember how the night I saw her for the first time changed my life.”

My friends and I decided not to pursue finding Lily that night. It was late, and most of them just wanted to see the rest of the town. She probably would not have known me from Adam. Besides, who wants a total stranger to come visit when you are sick?

Later, my friend Angela gave me a big hug. Angela always had a strong empathic side to her, as she knew I was feeling down about not seeing Lily.

“I’m sorry about Lily,” she said.
“I’ll be all right. I hope she will be too, ” I said.

I’ve not been to New Orleans since, but the next time I return , I have no doubt that I will go back to The Blacksmith Shop, and ask about Lily again. And if the piano is empty, I think I’ll sit down and play a song - for her - even if I don’t know all of it.

—
I wrote this story originally for a class in 1994. I tried to get in touch with someone who might have known Lily at The Blacksmith Shop. I called them once, and apparently they switched managers, and had no idea who Lily was. I also sent this story to them via the mail, in hopes of finding out about Lily, if she was still there, if anyone knew her, and if they did, to give her this letter. I’ve never heard back from that letter. I later found out that she had died in 1999 from an online obituary. She was an immigrant from Russia, and built her life in New Orleans. I know that I will always remember this woman, and the short time I was near her, and how she touched my life. Who knows what the fate of Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop will be, let alone all of the memories and moments so many have shared in The Big Easy. Please keep the residents of New Orleans in your thoughts. Donate what time and money you can. It all makes a difference.