Steve Cheseborough

Road tales from Steve and Spoonman
Originally published 5/19/2004

The Cafe 61 gig had some excitement. It’s a hip downtown-Memphis restaurant, good food, upscale blues-themed atmosphere, well-heeled young crowd. Except for one rough-looking couple who came in. They looked like trouble right away. But very interested in our music, sitting up close, making requests etc, so we had to humor them and interact with them. The guy said he had just gotten out of prison, a skinny but tough-looking, wiry white guy, lots of tattoos, spoke in a druggy growl. The woman had some teeth missing and looked tough, too, but with a nice body that she moved well, working it all the time, flirting from across the room, smiling at everyone and getting guys to buy her drinks. Her guy asked me repeatedly if he could “check out” or play my guitar. I ignored him the first few times, then started telling him no, but he persisted, “Why? Are you afraid I’ll play better than you?” and such. Well, after awhile they left, followed by the whole staff. They had bolted without paying for their drinks. And when they were caught and confronted, rather than apologize, the guy cursed out the restaurant manager and told him he wasn’t paying. Class act. So the manager called the cops of course. And they arrived quick. Right outside the front window, where we were playing. Blue lights illuminated the rest of the show. They each got the back seat of a cop car. There was no way I was going to let him play the guitar anyway but I wonder if he would have dashed out with it if I had. I asked the manager, “If we promise not to bring in any criminals the next time, do you want us to play here again?” He did.

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