Poster From a Legendary (and sadly, fictitious) New Orleans Performer
Saw Gator Red in a tiny bar on Frenchman
Street. Asked him for his autograph but he was so drunk all he could
manage was an "X" and a little scribble of a National Steel Guitar. We
got him in a cab and told the driver to take him home. Found out later
he was rolled and left in Lake Pontchartrain, where we ran into him next
day, feeling much better, picking his teeth with some rusted rebar.