My first real job was at age 17 selling jewelry in a store in East St. Louis, Illinois. I was on friendly terms with the Black Muslims who sold “Muhammed Speaks” and frozen fish from a truck once a week. I once met a man who looked like Jesus and claimed to be Jesus. He even had a couple of disciples. One of my regular customers, who worked at a local liquor store and always smelled of liquor, had to have been the inspiration for Richard Pryor’s character, “Mudbone.” He frequently needed a new leather watch strap because he would break them (he claimed) by reaching into where the wine was stored and turning bottles. I once saw a big black woman get decked right on the sidewalk by a tiny Korean shop owner. The black woman had stolen a wig from the Korean’s shop. The Korean pursued her. The black woman made the mistake of taking a swing at the Korean lady. And I had a boss — a rather vulgar, crude, porcine man — who had an ongoing affair with one of the other employees. They went “out to lunch” for a couple of hours at a time on a regular basis.
It was an educational experience. That was over 40 years ago, and I still occasionally have dreams about the place.
East St. Louis, eh?
I got lost there once. Scary place.