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Hello all,
I was thinking about this group the other day and recalled this encounter that happened to me many years ago. It was either 1975 or 1976. I want to think it was 1976. People from the neighborhood in question will remember because the experience is born of a triple murder on a Saturday night in a nightclub that was once known as "Jesse's Place" in Indianapolis. One summer Saturday night (Sunday morning) the owner and his pregnant wife were robbed and gunned down in the back room. Man, woman, and unborn child died as a result. The club hasn't been known by this name for years but it is located at Washington and Ritter in Indianapolis, Indiana.
I was there for more than a year after my encounter and never had a second one. I don't know if anyone else has had encounters at this address.
My group had been in Albuqurque, New Mexico and we just got back to play the engagement at Jesse's place the week after the shooting. It was not a very good feeling to be there. I could feel the presence of tragedy. But all went ok except that business was slow. But something special happened to me on the first Saturday night we were there.
The stage was set up against the wall on the long side of the room. The wall was composed of concrete block. There were no windows or doors on this west wall. I am a guitar player. I had my amplifier sitting on a chair placed against the wall and I stood a few feet in front of it. Joe played the steel guitar and he was set up just like me, on my left. I was standing by the edge of the stage on the south end of it.
I neglected to mention that the murders were done by a pistol. Being in the presence of occasional trouble, I kept a .357 magnum revolver in the back of my amplifier.
On the first Saturday night of our engagement, two weeks after the killing, all was well until about 0200. It was very strange. It felt as though something brushed against my back, down around by belt. I looked to my left and saw that Joe the guitar player was still several feet away from me, still sitting at the steel. We were playing a song at the time. There was no one even near to me.
A few seconds later I felt something brush against me again. And then, whatever it was, hit me --real hard-- right above my belt and in the center of my back. I recoiled forward and nearly fell down. I looked over at Joe and he was looking over at me, wondering what the hell my problem was.
It is a strange feeling to get clobbered by thin air. I saw and heard no one. The best I can figure, the spirits of the victims were not pleased that I carried a big pistol with me. I have always been on the side of the law and am not a violent person. However, that did not seem to matter to them.
I told them that the gun was for whoever would come back to kill again. I never had another encounter as long as I played there. We stayed two weeks and left, coming back a few months later to work there for more than a year when the place became "Buffalo Bill's".
--
Hopkins | "Nothing un-natural exists." | celmicro@dorite.use.com