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Mr. Pettigrew Gave Us Advice
A gentleman we met in Baton Rouge once upon a time
Although Bruce does not drink, he offers to buy me a drink in the Kingfish bar at the Hilton Capitol Center in Baton Rouge. Kingfish is for Huey P. Long who built the Capitol, the tallest in the United States. I remember Huey P. Long’s name. I remember his cry, “Every man a king!”
I had not known how bloody and tragic was the death of Huey P. Long, nor could I have imagined that so many years later, any man’s presence would linger so long in any place, not a ghost but a living presence. The hotel driver speaks as if the Kingfish was just down the street at the Capitol, and quickly recounts all of his achievements.
Over the city hangs a gauzy veil of old Southern ways and green moss; along the long walk beside the great river are hundreds of light poles and filigreed benches. Earlier in the day beside the river, I’d seen a homeless man sleeping long into the morning, zipped in layers of hoodies and wrapped in old jeans.
Bruce’s hand is warm in mine as we sit in a massive red velvet chair that could seat five average people. The bartender, slim and elegant, with a fine brown flavor-saver and flashing brown eyes, comes to our corner.
“Mr. Pettigrew would like to buy you two a drink,” he says. Looking back to the…
