My name is LuRain Penny. I am torch singer, on a second coming.
Who could be so lucky?
I was born in a big town east. I don’t remember the name but it is one you’ve heard of.
After the century had turned a bit.
My mother was an accidental parent.
A case of immaculate deception.
She never told me very much. So I never forgot it.
I was fortunate enough to have a lady who tended on me during my coming up years.
It was she who taught me to express myself in song. Saved my soul to do so.
I spent my early youth during the Great Depression.
You never lived till you starved.
I became a scrabbler. A body just taking hand to mouth whatever they can find.
Left to my own devices early on.
Worked for a while in a brothel.
Not as a prostitute. Even as a youngster, I was fugly.
As a runner and dogs body. Doing things nobody else would do.
That is how I got my first taste of likker. Going to the juice joints for the girls.
On the way back, I’d take a sip to lighten the load.
You would think that seeing how gents treated ladies would have cottoned me to the ways of the world.
I fell for every good looker I saw, then rept the consequences.
Now, they call it date rape.
In those days – asking for it.
I loved music from the time I can remember.
If we didn’t have no instruments, we used our bodies.
That’s where slap dash came from.
You be surprised at what sort of sounds you can make hitting on yourself.
My first boyfriend was a guy nicknamed ‘Spoons’.
He had a big pair of silver ones. Played them on available surface.
Liked to use my bottom.
Said my back was better looking than my front.
Wrote my first tune on his account.
We was coming down the street one day. This floozy strolled up.
I could tell what she wanted. She had all eight legs hanging out.
Started to crawl up my man like an insect.
I became enraged. Grabbed her by the hair.
Dragged her teeth along the sidewalk. I was still unsatisfied.
I went home. Wrote a song about it.
Black Widda like the spider.
Take me alot of energy to do that number.
Jealousy is a useless emotion.
If you are jealous and have no reason to be, you are just wasting your time.
If you do have a reason, probably nothing you can do about it.
I hung around the fringes of the music scene for many years.
Too scared to sing in public – I just slept with musicians. Drank with them too.
It made me feel part of it all.
In 1939, in the club car of the Twentieth Century, from NY to Chicago – Sidney Bechet and his band was on board.
He had a drummer named Alphonse. This joker used to brag about the size of his peter.
He had a snapshot of it. In those days, pictures had a scallopy edge around them.
He had pulled it out of his pocket alot, cuz the corners was all curled up.
That gazingus was the biggest I seen, before or since.
I had a crush on Mr. Bechet, but he never knew.
After the Second Big War, I was in Florida.
I don’t remember how I got there.
By then I was into hop as well as drink.
I had an affair with Nylon Turner, a drug dealer I met in Tampa.
My leg is still running from that man.
That’s another story……..