Part of the Scott Joplin Ragtime Festival held in Sedalia is on the site of the building that housed the Maple Leaf Social Club. The area is paved and easily accomodates a large tent (background, but all of this has been changed). This had been a club for blacks, most of whom worked for the railroads that passed immediately behind the Maple Leaf building (the club was housed on the second floor and accessed from the rear or track side with the Negro district, called Lincolnville, to the northwest of the tracks). Joplin's famous "Maple Leaf Rag" could have been named after this club or it could have been named after the Maple Leaf Line for which the club was named. Joplin worked on the railroads from time to time to keep food on the table.
Bill was carrying one of those junk cameras of his (in the bag) that wasn't working and wanted me to fix it. Luckily, for me, I was able to. Bill went behind the tent and shot up and down the tracks and took all kinds of those strange Russell photographs. But it made him happy. I could do no wrong after that, I had fixed his camera. When you walked with Bill, he took two steps and you took one and ran one. I think his speed came from the fact that he didn't like to tarry at night on the streets of the French Quarter in New Orleans. Bill Russell was one of those men who liked you or he didn't and that was that. But if you ever did him hurt, as in breaking the faith, he was finished with you . . . forever.
Personal Comment/Observation: In New Orleans, all of the blacks referred to Bill as "Mr. Russell." Without exception. They would approach him slowly, apologetically, and say in low tones, "Mr. Russell..." (followed by a short request or passing along of information) ...and then a "thank you, Mr. Russell" and a backing away several steps before turning away. It was somehow familiar. It took me until old age to realize what it was. The jazzmen of New Orleans and the other rural areas, that Bill later sought out, had been left behind. The years for them were not the ones of the musicians who left Storyville for Chicago and then New York, the west coast, and Europe; but were years of depression, poverty, dock work, WWII, and only a yearly Mardi Gras celebration of sorts. Single-handedly, Bill had brought them notice and fame with his American Music record label and unwavering attention and dedication to their musical abilities. He was their royalty...and then it hit me...they approached Bill that way...picture the British with their King or Queen. But this was a bestowed honor and had to have been agreed upon. So, in honor, may I add my "Thank you, Mr. Russell" and slowly back away. GCW
