Polka Salad Annie

In Blawnox, Pennsylvania, Anna Hahn prayed to Saint Vitus, promising to build a dance hall in his honor if he’d make her a gifted accordion player. Meanwhile, at a crossroads near Clarksdale, Mississippi, Jellyroll Thornton offered his soul in exchange for some guitar lessons.

After years of devotion and practice, Anna became quite the ivory tickler. True to her promise, she built a dance hall, but she could not have chosen a worse location. The woman had a heart of gold, but no business savvy whatsoever. The place went broke, but not before taking her life savings and taxing her faith. As for Jellyroll Thornton, you could not find a better guitar player. Ask anyone. What he did not have, on the other hand (or either hand), was people skills. Who needs a hot tempered loudmouth drunk hanging around? Not many, as it turns out. Not outside Washington, DC, anyway.

Anna and Jellyroll met online in a chat room for out of work musicians. In a bold fit of creativity, fueled by ignorance, they agreed to collaborate and usher in a whole new genre. Jellyroll would move to Pennsylvania since he had fewer belongings and a fondness for travel.

When they tried to blend their styles, they made “St. James Infirmary” seem like a cheerful place. Their “Beer Barrel Polka” tasted more like a pint of room-temperature Night Train. Their own compositions (“Happy Hobo Hoppin on a Squeezebox Car” and “Blues like a Grautier”) were not well received—although the picture on the CD cover did gain a small cult following. Did you ever read their children’s book, Congaroo the Kangaroo? Neither did anyone else.

He tried changing his name from Jellyroll Thornton to Berliner Pfankuchen, but he never could pronounce it right and the result was...well, not something everyone would want to do in the kitchen—not that there’s anything wrong with that, necessarily.

In the midst of all their trials and tribulations, Anna and Jellyroll became close friends. He taught her how the business end of the industry works; he taught her how the cow ate the cabbage; he taught her how to talk back to the Man. Anna taught him how to be a decent human being.

Anna got a paper route and Jellyroll hired on as a greeter at Shiffer Sale Warehouse Outlet. They were poor but happy. They would have much preferred to be rich but happy, but Happy is nothing to be sneezed at. They played their music for each other, and an each other audience is the greatest audience in the world.

One evening while leafing through the newspaper, Jellyroll saw an advertisement for a big show in Scranton. Slim Jim Peppermonkey and the Hot Patches on a worldwide tour, one night only.

He showed the ad to Anna and said, “We gotta go. I know this guy.”

She read the announcement over his shoulder. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“No, but he owes me a hundred dollars.”

Slim Jim paid his debt and then some. The all-night jam session continued in the car as Anna delivered her papers. At the crust of dawn, over sausage biscuits and brandy-laced coffee, Slim Jim gave them an honest evaluation and a great idea. “You two play music that is both happy and dangerous. Ain’t but one place for you to go.”

And they did.

You may never have guessed their humble beginnings, but you know them today as the Queen and King of Zydeco/Swamp Rock.

In the audience, one night not too long ago, a saint and a spooky sinner shared a small corner table. The spooky sinner was heard saying, “Anyone who can play like that must still have his soul. He tricked me. Good on him.”

The saint smiled and said, “The folks who bought the dance hall she built in Blawnox turned it into a skating rink and it’s doing a booming business.”

The owner of the club barged onto the stage and grabbed a microphone. “Okay, who’s the wise guy who left a railroad flare in the toilet in the men’s room?!”

Campfire Tales                           Home