Beer Joint Blues

With a day job pouring concrete, operating a beer joint at night, selling liquor on the side, and with packs of Luck Strikes in each pocket, 20-year-old Jimmie Day thought he had made it to the big time.

When Jimmie got out, he went full time into the concrete business.  He also moved to a real hotel in Easley for the next few years and bought half interest in a beer joint across the street.

“My daily schedule started before dawn with a small liquor route where I would carry a maximum of five gallons and then let my customers “pint” them,” he said.  “During the day I’d pour concrete, and at night run the beer joint.  In my mind, I was big time for a 20 year old.”

However, the beer club turned into a fleeting business.

“Once my buddy and I towed a car to Ohio for a fellow,” Jimmie said.  “Back then it was very illegal to move a financed car out of state, so as soon as we crossed the bridge at the Ohio River we unhooked and came home.  On the way back we got lost in a rainstorm and ended up in Hazard, Kentucky.  We just happened to give a couple of girls named Pat and Shirley a ride to Easley, and got them a room at our hotel.

“Pretty soon they were running our beer joint, and the next thing we know things are booming.  They could sell the booze and bum money for the piccolo – put a dab of nail polish on the coins, and we’d divide the change later.  Our place stayed packed.  I remember I’d look at a little pub across the railroad tracks on a Saturday night, and they had one old man in there with a straw hat…and I had half the men in Easley.”

“I was called Mr. Day then,” he added with a laugh.  “Later the girls were offered more money at that place across the tracks.  Soon all those Easley boys were over there, and the only person in my joint was that old man in the straw hat.  So I learned then, boys, that the tide can always change.”