by Jim Barton on Saturday, October 15, 2011 at 12:05am
Juan Montoya handed me his Miller Lite as he left the Latin Jazz Festival. Brownsville is not New Orleans yet, despite Jerry Mchale's fantasies. Cops still nab you with an open container of beverage leaving an event. Nena and I walked the sidewalk along Adams Street up to the stage so as not to block the view of any of the non-paying patrons. I wanted Nena to at least record a small sampling of the Chick Corea tribute for Facebook. Sitting crosslegged behind two trash cans, almost in a yoga position was an emaciated cowboy I immediately recognized as Junior Bonner. Junior trained quarter horses in Weatherford before booze, drugs and women took their toll. Sometimes people describe Brownsville as the end of the world. Harlingen is a deader end and Junior fit right in with nothing more to lose. But Paz-Martinez likes to recycle old has beens cause they work cheap. No one works cheaper than Junior.
"Did Paz at least give you gas money?" I asked. "Paz don't give me nuthin", Junior replied. "He uses them temporary checks till he runs out, then he changes banks. He told me to come down here and cover this shin dig. He said I could probably stay at the Colonial Hotel free if I told them I was a journalist."
I asked Junior about his guitar. "It's a Peavey. Most folks don't know nuthin' about them. They just heard of Fender and Gibson, but Mr. Peavey makes a damn fine guitar. I mean, I don't play all the complicated progressions these guys are playin', but I could."
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Jimmy, we have known for awhile that the editor of the Paz-files squeaks when he walks. No wonder Paz pays Junior Zilt when he works, he looks cheap, and the colonial hotel, is up Junior, ally.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, Junior lives with a short stumpy looking woman, who goes by the name of Cylantra de La Torre and illegal from Honduras, was she with Junior??? She is around 26 years of age, and calls Natural beer, naturalmente, she also calls Michalob beer, michalobia, she speaks horrible english.
I am glad you found him, someone had suggested an evening at the movida bar, Junior would fit with the landscape just fine.
I've seen this guy a couple of times at our church on Elizabeth Street. He usually hangs out in the parish hall, drinking coffee or asleep on the sofa until someone tells him they're locking up for the day. I had wondered what his story was.
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