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tt Like to Mrmke 3i§ Memrt
• . . When I was a young man, these hoodoo people with their underground stuff helped me along. 1 did not feel grateful and I did not reward them for the help they gave. Now, when everything began to go against me, those u&der~ ground streams were running against me, too.
One day 1 met a frizzly-haired woman who said she wasn't a fortune teller, but that she could work in those ields. If you wanted anybody killed, you would deposit her fee in the bank and she would go to work. She would buy a package of ftae meat, tie it up with strings and throw it in a desolate section. In nine or ten days, this meat would decay and, as it decayed, your enemy would be dying. At the end of ten days, the enemy would be dead and she would go to the bank and collect her money. If the person was not dead, you didn't owe her a thing.
I didn't believe in those things. I didn't pay any attention when this woman told me that somebody was working against me. She said my Lincoln would be stolen. In three weeks it was gone. When they caught the thief, he wasn't even put in jail.
It wasn't long before I wished I had taken this woman's advice. I was in the music-publishing business. Everybody was writing me for bands and for music and for radio programs and I had more work than I could do. I bumped into a West Indian guy who was fooling with the music-publishing business in an office so small you couldn't turn around in it—to get out you had to back back the way you came in. I Mnda liked this guy and wanted to give him a break and, besides, as I had
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