Doc Lane (F)

Doc Lane was sitting in the last booth next to the bar in the Sink-r-Swim Bar & Grill on East Ashley Avenue. I was there because a regional magazine editor saw an article I wrote for another regional magazine and she wanted around 300 words about Lane and they wanted half a dozen photos to choose from. Diane King was to handle the camera.

He waved us over as our eyes adjusted to the muted light.

"Mr. Lane, I'm Greg and this is Diane."

He stopped stirring his bowl of gumbo. "You IRS or police?"

"No, sir."

"Then it's Doc. I was named Doc at birth and I am known by Doc and you call me Doc, too."

"Okay. Doc." I slid into the booth. Diane started her work. "Thanks for your time, Doc."

"I got time. First set starts at 7. Not like over on Shem Creek. They want me playing at 5."

"Well let me start with some basics, confirm some facts from the state music hall of fame."

He nodded and took a spoonful of the gumbo.

"You were born in Eutawville? In '52?"

"Yep, '52, that's right. Eutawville, that's wrong." He grunted. "I was born outside of Lane closer to the river. We're Lanes of a sort. Mama moved us to Eutawville to live with her older sister."

"Thanks. They need to fix that information in Columbia."

"Oh, that stuff don't matter."

Diane stepped up to the booth. "Doc, would you tip that cap back just a bit for me."

"Yes, ma'am." He tilted the worn cap with a Dekalb logo to the top of his forehead. "Y'all want some gumbo? I get it free, no charge."

"None for me." Diane shook her head. "Doc, you got your first guitar at 5?"

"First real guitar, yep. Had a guitar with 3 strings from Woolworth's when I was 4. Didn't matter too much, way too big for me to handle right."

"Guys, I'm going to step back to shoot both of you in the frame. Just keep talking to one another."

"And you were self-taught?"

"Till I went to church in Eutawville. Organ player gave me lessons for 25 cents a week.  I think I surprised her by practicing so much. She fussed none of her other students did their practicing."

"Do you remember the first time someone paid you to play."

"Not really. Started with birthday parties, sometimes just folks getting together, one time--maybe 10 or so--a wedding party."

"First recording job?"

"Well, a man drove down from Florence and said he wanted to record me. Paid me $10 to play "Sweet Georgia Brown" and "Johnny B. Goode", but I didn't hear from him again. He did say I had the longest thumbs he'd ever seen."

"How would you describe your style, your approach to music?"

"My style." He set his spoon down. "If it was fast, I played it slow, and if it was slow, I played it fast. Folks seem to like that."

Diane lightly tapped the table. "I think I have enough."  

"Okay. Doc, what to you think your legacy will be?"

"My legacy? I got three guitars, no house, no family, no children, no grands. Legacy? No more than folks remembering hearing me or a few old records. Until they're gone, too."

I shifted myself out from the booth. "Well, Doc, we thank you for your time."

"Time, sure, sure, plenty of that I do have. Y'all keep safe on the road home."

Lyman 2021