Everywhere we played the people seemed to like my singing, and the style was brand new to them. But I was so accustomed to the Fourth of July type of reception I'd always got from colored audiences that it took a long time to convince me I was getting over. I began, though, to draw colored patrons into the balcony. And when those good folks upstairs heard authentic blues sung on a white stage for the first time they went mad with joy. I opened up in my gingham apron for "Georgia Blues," did a smart eccentric dance, then a comedy routine with Earl to build up for my comedy number, "Mama Goes Where Papa Goes." Earl then would do his specialty number and he was always good at selling a song. His suggestion of how I should sing "My Man" proved invaluable. After the announcement that I'd sing Fanny Brice's song "as a little girl from Georgia might do it," I'd come out in a simple black dress and a paisley handkerchief around my hair and sing it--with blues interpolated. The blues I sang after one verse of "My Man" went: Trouble, trouble, I've had it all my days. Sometimes I think the trouble Will end carrying me to my grave. All because I love my man And he won't treat me right. He has other women Every time I'm out of sight. << less