Sunday, January 08, 2006

Meeting Chuck Berry

I met rock and roll legend Chuck Berry twice in my life. The first time was in the early 1980s, in St. Louis, at a restaurant called Blueberry Hill. I was a young kid standing in awe, among a huge throng of admirers.

Six years later, I saw him at a bar in the Plaza hotel in Fort Worth, TX. There was an exceptionally beautiful woman in his arms (no, it wasn't Paris Hilton), as he sat in a booth with a cluster of friends and associates. I walked past his table and said, "Hey Chuck, Blueberry Hill?" I was thinking of the restaurant.

Chuck Berry glanced at me, grinned politely, and nodded his head. But something in his face said, "Doesn't this dumb white boy know that Blueberry Hill is not my song?"

I slithered away, embarassed, with no particular place to go, reeling and rocking.


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