The jukebox was the other wonder. There was a long bench at Mr. Pit's place, and I had my special place, right at the end, smack against the loudspeaker. That's where I would sit for hours, enthralled by the different sounds. I heard the radio around town, though there were only white stations on it. No way they'd be playing real blues-- I mean hollering-through-the-hollow-log blues. But records were also around, and the first ones I listened to were on Mr. Pit's jukebox. Boogie-woogie, baby! The jukebox was jumping with the stuff. There was Pete Johnson, Meade Lux Lewis, and Albert Ammons. And you better believe that there was also some filthy blues, some country blues, coming out of that same box--Tampa Red, Blind Boy Phillips, and Washboard Sam. Sure, I listened to the blues and boogie-woogie, but I also heard the big bands of the time. And you gotta remember that this was the Deep South, and the airwaves were running wild with hillbilly tunes from morning till night. The earliest part of my life was filled with music of many styles, and I liked it all. I was also curious 'bout it. I wondered ... hmmm, how'd they do this, or how'd they do that?