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Bert Williams’ Last Interview
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It sounded very funny. Perhaps that was because it was so very true. There was a time in Europe, you know, when you weren’t much of a king if you hadn’t seen Bert Williams.
“I’m glad you’ve got a good song — at last.”
“I’m glad, too, Brother Stevens.”
“How’d you find this ‘Moon Shine on the Moonshine’ ?”
“Didn’t; it found me. Sang it for the record, picking out the notes and words as I went along.” He illuminated by holding up an imaginary score. “Hit. Thought I might as well learn it for the show. So I worked it up. Pretty slow. Four months. — Drink?” “No; still no. But where do you find it these days?”
“Don’t ; it finds me. Get a reputation as a regular seven-days-a-week consumer and you’ll never suffer; there’s a bootlegger waiting for you in every port.” “Well, I don’t mean to flatter, but, Brother Williams, you certainly had the reputation of holding
more ”
“Unearned.”
“You didn’t !”
“Didn’t hold it. I drank it, but I didn’t keep it. I was like the old Romans. Every now and then I’d drink four or five big glasses of plain water and — liquor would leave me. Then I was ready for another set of drinks. It was a system.”
“But why? You weren't selling the stuff.”
“Why? Because, Brother Stevens, the saloon was the only club in which a man of my color could meet a man of your color. And I like my friends; like to be with them ; like to be seen with them. I could do that in the saloon — some saloons. Other saloons, a few, weren’t particularly cordial. You know.” I knew.