I had a friend in Greenwich Village who employed an effective method for handling hecklers.
Clean!
Saint Louie Tickle
Being a bit brazen paid off in the Village. Performers cultivated idiosyncrasies to distinguish themselves from all the Dylan, Peter Paul, and Mary, or Joan Baez wannabees walking down Bleeker or McDougal at any given time. There were blue Chambray shirts and jeans for the Dylanesque and black turtlenecks and jeans for those more closely allied with the Beats in the neighborhood.
Blueser
When I emerged from the egg and arrived in Greenwich Village as a newly minted folksinger, the streets were filled with juvenile Joan Baez wannabees and their male kindred.
Originality
It was perhaps ten PM. Sitting in the back of the coffeehouse Rienzi, my girlfriend practiced her version of "A High flying Bird"
Snip
Arthur was an unsuccessful writer of dramatic tales. His plotlines involved so much obfuscation that you needed a guide to wade through the story.
Waiter
I caught the final bars of the Hesitation Blues as I entered the coffeehouse, "…can I get you now, or must I hesitate." Pat's finishing off with one of his signature songs suggested that it had been a good set for him.
Pat Sky
Pat Sky has died, and I'll miss him even though it's been over fifty years since I last saw him.
Caution
If you were me in the '60s and early '70s, you always walked with one shoulder higher than the other.
Nocturn
Tourist busses were a frequent sight on the streets of Greenwich Village.
An Education
Life in the Village was not just about playing at the coffeehouses. It was about understanding the intellectual and artistic background of life. You'd be sitting with a fellow habituate listening to a discourse on Proust one day, Aristotle the next, and Steinbeck the day succeeding.
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