Mama Willadean, "The Mississippi Songbird", booked this gig for her and her boys. Some cousin of a cousin of a friend had called her and she gave her standard reply... "Sure sister, we'll come!"... "Now Willadean, we cain't afford to pay y'all but we'll take a love offering and y'all `ll get the whole thing - unless of course, ya wanna give it back to God's work"That's always a red flag for me and makes me wonder if these folks think we're just chopping liver. Mama never seems to notice..

We'd already missed it once and had to back-track several miles before we found the place. It was on Old State Route 13 just like it was supposed to be, but the little clapboard building sat way back from the road and their sign lay broken on the ground from the tornado that came thru the week before. In retrospect, that was appropriate for a church called "Broken Heart Assembly". We're used to scouring the hills and hollers of Tennessee to find places where the faithful meet - but this place surprised even us. The "middle of nowhere" comes to mind.

There wasn't any gravel down on the drive, it was just dirt. The church was built box style and badly needed a coat of paint. As we walked to the front door we checked for a power line (just to be sure) and spotted it. We knew we wouldn't really need the P.A., but it always makes folks think they're getting professionals whether it's turned on or not. We tried the knob and it was open like the preacher said it would be... "never locked, no need fer it", were his words as I recall. We'd not be leaving beforehand because whether or not they had anything worth stealing - we do (unemployment's endemic in the hills and hollers of Tennessee - just as well we don't give a body more call to be sinnin' than they already got).

We always scope out a place before we set up. The wood stove was smack dab in the middle and the AC was non-existent. It was early fall so neither would be needed. There was a platform, a pulpit and an upright piano (we were in luck - the accordion wouldn't be needed but for one song). The pews in the place would seat about 50 people. If each gave a dollar that would almost cover our gas but I knew that was too much to hope for. Just to be sure we checked the farthest points on the platform for a Viper Box - no snake handling, that's always good. We'd seen all we needed so Dabo and I started hauling equipment in and setting up.

After about 45 minutes I noticed Mama looking `round the church for something. Finally, she called to us, "Hey boys, where's the rest room?" I hadn't thought to look but with a sheepish grin on his face Dabo answered... "go out that side door, walk down the path 50 feet and look for a little structure with a half moon cut in the door." - "An outhouse? - O no!"was all Mama said as she made her way to the door. I don't recall ever seeing such a look on her face before... Mama's kind of funny about bathrooms. As she stepped outside I called after her, "You're the one who booked this gig!" Me and Dabo fell on the floor laughin' so hard we had to hug our bellies. `Fore he keeled over, Cuz'n Jimmy always said, "Kazkill's die young cuz we laugh so hard".,

A couple minutes later, between guffaws, Dabo said, "C'mon!" Now I knew he was up to no good and I shouldn't do it... but I did. "Quiet!", he said as the half moon door swung shut. Now I wanna make it clear... this was none of my doing, it was all my brother's fault... I just followed him down the path. I wondered what mischief he was up to as he picked up a stick and crept up to the outhouse door, then I saw the clasp as he stealthily slipped that stick in, sealing my sweet Mama in that stinky place.

Mind you... this was all his doing, I was merely an innocent bystander. A few minutes later the door rattled. There was a brief pause - then it rattled again. Another pause and this time the door shook, and it shook, and it shook. Pumph... the sound of a body slamming against wood... pumph - pumph - "Help!"

"Boys! - Boys? - Can ya hear me? - Help! - I'm locked in this outhouse! - Help!"By this time we were crying. I never knew laughing could hurt so bad. Between sobs we heard a car pull in the drive so we ran and hid in the bushes. O no... it was the preacher. That poor fella had to be 80 years old but when he heard the ruckus Mama was raisin' he ran down that path. He was so out of breath he couldn't manage the strength to get the stick out. By this time Mama was frantic, "Help somebody, please!" - "Calm down Miss Willadean, it's Pastor Theo... I'm here, I'monna help ye!"