|Posted on Thursday, September 08, 2005 - 11:56 pm: |
I don't know how many of you remember David & Roselyn. They were an integral part of the corridor during the late 60's and early 70's. For the last 20- 25 years they have been singing in the French Quarter in New Orleans. Thank God they got out safely! But they are now effectively homeless (they are temporarily staying with a distant relative) and have lost their "job" singing. They could really use any donation no matter how small.
I apologize if this type of message is not allowed on this Forum. Here is their current information.
Glad to hear from you
Thank God we are not in N.O., we are at my dad's cousin's widow's house in Alexandria, LA, with my third cousin, Gwin Foster, 422 Williamson St., Alexandria, LA 71302-6046, 318-443-4430.
We fear our neighborhood in the upper 9th ward in N.O. is under water. They say 80% of the city IS under water so it would be very likely that our home is.
But, praise the Lord, we got out. Contributions are gratefully accepted because we can't work, but the bills keep coming in. They say it may be a month before we can go home. We are hoping to start a tour and maybe go to CA for the winter. Please send us your info because our address books are in N.O.
Has anyone heard from RR Bill?
Please e-mail Coca Cola to go to N.O. immediately with refrigerated trucks to pick up all those dead bodies before plagues are added to the current tragedy.
Thank you to anyone who can help. You can also go to their web site. www.davidandroselyn.com
|David and Roselyn
|Posted on Monday, July 10, 2006 - 12:05 am: |
Just want to say thanks to all of you who helped and are still helping, because we need all the help we can get!
David and Roselyn’s Gig List for July-August
July 10, 2006 Alexander’s, Magazine & 3rd, New Orleans, 8 PM
July 15, Elizabeth’s Restaurant, 601 Gallier at Chartres, N.O. 7:30 PM
July 17 Alexander’s
“ 19 St. Anna’s Church, 1313 Esplanade, N.O. 7 PM
July 22 Elizabeth’s
“ 24 Alexander’s
“ 29 Wyandotte, MI Democratic Party
August 2 Southfield, MI Public Library, “Jazz and Blues at the Library”,
26300 Evergreen Rd btwn 10 & 11 mile
Any one with suggestions for other places to perform. Please let us know. E-mail or call: 504-949-3001 or mail DaRo, P.O. Box 70813, N.O., LA 70172
Here are the lyrics to: “They’re Flooding My City Again” with additional words.
THEY’RE FLOODING MY CITY AGAIN
They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again. Once with water and once with neglect! They’re flooding my city again.
They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again. The army corp of engineers lied; over a thousand people died. They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again.
They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again. Driving all the poor folks out of their homes, they’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again.
They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again. Entergy want a 25% raise, flooding my city again, flooding my city again.
They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again, why not replace the blue roofs with solar panels instead of flooding my city again, flooding my city again.
They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again, they built housing in Iraq but not in the USA, no they’re just flooding my city again, flooding my city again.
They’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again. Once with water and once with neglect, they’re flooding my city again, flooding my city again.
Copyright Roselyn Lionhart October, 2005
Pass it on.
|David and Roselyn
|Posted on Monday, August 28, 2006 - 4:32 pm: |
Our introduction to the Cass Corridor came in November of 1967 when Shawn moved us into the “UP” house, John Sinclair’s ‘other’ band, which was right next door to the “MC5” house on the John Lodge Freeway Service Drive. They were beautiful gray brick houses built with crenellations to look like castles and just as strong, but Wayne State took the property and tore them down. They tore down the whole neighborhood.
It was a crying shame, but we had come from UC Berkeley and the Free Speech Movement and voter registration with the Congress of Racial Equality (C.O.R.E.) in Louisiana and getting busted in Texas and we had no energy left to fight for houses we didn’t even own, besides we were taking Tim Leary’s advice.
So we moved into the three story Rosemary Apartments on Prentis St. as managers the week before the article came out in “Newsweek” magazine naming it the center of drug traffic in Detroit.
I’m in awe when I think of the things that went on in that apartment building. The only time David has ever been able to lift me was when I was hemorrhaging from having lost my IUD and he carried me down the back stairs and into somebody’s car and took me to Women’s Hospital on Beaubien St. for a D and C. One story that somehow never made it into our 17 minute classic, “Beaubien Street Blues”.
Neither did the story of the day someone from one of the basement floor apartments wanted to use our phone, this was back in the days when land lines were all there was and lots of people couldn’t even afford that. We gave them the key to our apartment and went to get ice cream from the “Traffic Jam” back before they had their liquor license.
When we came back, I discovered I had left my keys in the apartment, so we buzzed to get in the building and David went downstairs to get his key while I waited in the hallway upstairs.
And waited. And waited. And waited. Just as I was starting to get ticked a friend came running up hollering, “David just got busted!”
“The cops are busting the apartment downstairs and David walked in right in the middle of it and they busted him!”
I ran outside and sure enough, they were putting David in the black Mariah. I started screaming at the cops that he had only gone down stairs to get our house keys and then I realized I still did not have a key to get in. I was screaming at the cops and screaming at David and screaming at the kids and someone threw keys out the door just before the cops slammed it shut. They were all laughing and dropping pills. You could hear pills rolling on the floor as the Mariah drove off. Crazy!
David said later he knocked on the door and the cops let him in and told him he was under arrest. He objected, “But I just came to get my key!”
They replied, “You’re just the guy we’re looking for!”
They dropped the charges of course.
We decided apartment living was not for us and rented one third of a triplex on the corner of Beaubien and Ferry, but since as managers we didn’t have to pay rent and our phone was free except for long distance calls, we were taking our time about moving. Painting and decorating and buying furniture (second hand or scrounged of course) was squeezed in between performing at university coffee houses and bars, modeling for the Art Departments at Wayne State and Arts and Crafts, as it was called then.
Then one night when David was off carousing and I was in bed early because I had a REAL modeling shoot for a magazine ad the next morning I was awakened by cursing and shouting in the hallway. I WAS TICKED!! I needed my beauty sleep. I stormed out into the hallway in my negligee with cream on my face, landlady indignation and anger in my voice, “What the hell is all this noise?”
Two skinny kids, students at Wayne State, who had moved in that day were peeking through their door which still had the chain on. I think then you could move off campus in your JR year so they were probably about 19 or 20, a very young, suburban 19 or 20.
Facing them were big burley tattooed Satan’s Slaves, the Detroit version of the Hell’s Angels who had to prove they was just as big, bad and stupid as their California cousins. In between a lot of cursing, they were shouting that the kids had sold them some bad dope a few days ago and they wanted their money back or the dope or their pound of flesh or maybe all three.
The kids were almost pissing in their pants and saying they had never seen any of those people before, they had never sold anyone any dope and please go away and leave them alone.
I asked the Slaves where they bought the dope and they said in this apartment. I informed them the kids had just moved in that day and the previous tenants moved out several days ago and I had had to clean up the apartment after them and I had a shoot in the morning and to get the hell out of my apartment building right this minute.
They did. Thinking back, I can only figure they thought I had a gun or an old man with a shotgun backing up my actions because any ONE of them could have taken me on. They would have gotten seriously hurt, but I probably would have been dead. They left. I was quite proud of myself as I went back to bed.
But they came back. The next day, when everyone arrived at the Rosemary around four or five o’clock as usual, and started going to the bathroom, and showering and cooking, all hell broke loose. Before we knew what was happening, shit was floating down the hallways and dropping into people’s soup cooking on the stove.
It took us a while to figure out that someone had gone up on the roof and tore up the asphalt roofing and stuffed every toilet chimney so every toilet in the building overflowed. It was a mess.
David, bless his heart, was digging out his mops and buckets and starting to wade out to clean up the mess when I yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he snarled back at me. David does not like to be yelled at.
“What you ought to be doing is packing and lets get the hell out of here. We have a house to go to. We don’t have to clean up this shit. The landlord can hire a company to do it!”
That was the end of our short (four months), sweet and sour term as managers at the Rosemary, all night stints of playing cards, “Fuck You Buddy” was the favorite and I don’t even remember how it was played.
I wonder if any of the folks from that time remember any of this. Do any of you remember their little dog Douche Bag? We’re getting too soon old and still not any smarter…well, maybe a little.
MAKE LEVEES NOT WAR
|Posted on Tuesday, April 15, 2008 - 6:08 pm: |
I remember a lot in spite of the LSD and smoke. This was my first address on my own,,,656 Prentis. Douch Bag the dog aka Mary Ann was owned by a guy named Don and was dyed green on St. Patrick's Day. I moved in in January, 1967 into Le
inda Levine's place. She quickly moved out and everybody I know moved in: Barbara Piekarski, Bill Fields, Spade Mike Marino, my boyfriend Bruce Calkins, and assorted others. This, of course, was a studio apartment. oTHER TENANTS included mICHELE AND bEVERLY, dAVID, Mike White and Mike Black, some hillbilly alcoholic named Alice and oodles of strange and wonderful people. I moved to Toronto in the summer for a short time. I once took a blue paint roller and attempted to mark my initials on the front bring by the fire escape to my room. Lynn Mechanic
|Posted on Wednesday, June 15, 2011 - 3:06 am: |
|Posted on Wednesday, June 15, 2011 - 4:55 am: |
|Posted on Wednesday, June 15, 2011 - 6:44 am: |
|Posted on Wednesday, June 15, 2011 - 8:31 am: |
|Posted on Sunday, November 20, 2011 - 9:13 am: |
AFAICT you've coevred all the bases with this answer!