Diamond Lil's fantasy was that we'd call ourselves "The Five Easy Pieces," wear tight jeans and play topless for her gigs. We were pretty desperate for work, but we'd handle no more than guitars and drums. Lil could do what she liked.

So, it was off to Augusta, Georgia for a gig as Diamond Lil's back up band. Augusta would end up signifying all of the worst aspects of trying to take the Colored People out of town, but that's another story.

We checked into the illustrious Alamo plaza on the funky side of town and then headed for the club in an even creepier district. We set up in the H and M lounge, a nasty cavern, painted pitch black on the inside. After setting up, we went down the street to a liquor store to grab some beer, a life-sustaining staple at the time. I should have known something was up when the guy running the store came out from behind the counter to lock the door behind us. We got our beer and as we turned to leave we saw a delirious wino smeared against the plate glass front door with his pants unzipped and a wobbly hand on his lonely tool. He seemed to sliding, perpetually downward, in slow-motion, like a slug on the liquor store glass, never quite reaching his dirty asphalt destination. The guy at the store hurried to the front of the shop, opened the door and yelled at the cat, who stumbled off while we scurried to the cruddy confines of the nightclub du jour.

That night at the club was an eye opener. Diamond Lil had out done herself-she was a 1950's Hollywood glamour queen in an evening dress receiving her adoring fans of young men who followed her in a fevered clump wherever she went. She wasn't allowed to do anything for herself, as the enthralled insisted on supplying her every need and fulfilling each passing whim expressed by their exalted queen. But soon there was a storm brewing as Lil scowled and bristled, "Who does that bitch think she is?" And another crowd of men was seen traveling through the black warehouse, surrounding a competing queen all dressed in a large, full-skirted, white evening dress. So, the entire night was like a competition between these two queens to see which one could attract the largest swarm of worker bees as each circulated through the black hive, holding court.

I don't remember much about the music. Lil's repertoire consisted of mostly vintage Ruth Brown covers and a couple of Diamond Lil originals. It was always exciting trying to anticipate exactly where in the song she'd start singing and at what tempo. It was never the same. Nevertheless, Lil always gave it everything she had. Sometimes that was great and sometimes it sent the arrangements straight out the window.

Anyway, after the gig, I approached the club owner about getting paid and he quickly blew me off with, "Talk to Lil." By that time, the reigning queen had left the building. The band was packed up and anxious to go, so we drove to Lil's motel.

I knocked on the door and one of the few attendees allowed to personally tend to Lil, let me in. I was stunned. Lil sat on a bed surrounded by flesh-colored foam rubber as she dismantled herself. No big hair. No glorious gown. Just a little guy in women's underwear with short, matted dark hair and smeared makeup on--a wisp of a thing compared to the larger-than-life gay fantasy of a glamour queen she had just been. I had stepped through a portal and was on alien turf. Still, I was pretty steamed about having to chase our money down so I launched into a pretty nasty start, "Lil, I don't know who hasn't blown who, or what, but I got four guys in the car, ready to go, and we got to have our money." She shriveled even more. "Oh, Thermos. I can't believe you think I'd rip you off." And started to cry. She blubbered a bit more and then I saw something change inside of her as she straightened her back and quickly signaled her attendee to assist and started reassembling herself with the resolve of a tigress. "Where is that little bastard? I'll show him. You just wait right here and I'll get your damn money!" She was a slandered southern women out to regain a sterling reputation. She stormed out of the room to find the offender.

I waited outside in the car with the rest of the guys in the band and after a while, we saw Lil circling the block in the front passenger seat of a large car with the club owner. After several trips around the block Lil shows up, both she and the club-owner looking quite satisfied. She stepped out of the car, straightened her muss and with the air of a conquering queen, Diamond Lil handed over the money.

We counted the dough and split.

[When I ran this piece by Diamond Lil to get her permission to post it on the web site on October 26th 2005, she gently informed me that this all took place in Columbia SC and had the flyer to prove it! So much for my memory.]