HONKY TONK

by Claude Diamond

 

On a wall in my home hangs a framed piece of family memorabilia dated 1936.  It’s a U.S. Treasury Department, Bureau of Internal Revenue document that spells out applicable U.S. regulations for the retail sale of liquor.  It originally belonged to my Daddy and Granddaddy.

The year was 1949 when the two of them went into cahoots and opened a Honky-Tonk / Juke Joint alongside highway 84 in Adams County Mississippi. They rented a ratty old building with two rooms on the front.  As was common in those days one room served as a Honky-Tonk for whites and the other as a Juke-Joint for blacks. 

At the time I was  eleven years old but Daddy would let me hang around when business was slow.  I spent most of the time outside throwing rocks at a Jax beer sign nailed to a utility pole near the gravel parking area.  Their liquor license only allowed for the sale of beer, however,  there were times when they would place a bottle on the bar and sell whiskey by the shot.  Some guys would pour a small amount of Coke out of a bottle and replace it with a shot or two of whiskey, place their thumb on the top and shake it up.  This was the only mixed drink available.  

One night while sharpening my aim on the Jax beer sign a car pulled into the parking lot and slowed to a stop. While keeping the motor running the driver rolled his window down and said, “Son, go tell your Daddy to get that whiskey bottle off the bar, the Sheriff will be stopping by later tonight”.  As he drove away I ran inside and told Daddy what he'd said.  He smiled and said, “Do you know who that man is”?  I said, “No”.  He responded, “That is the Sheriff”. At that moment I began to understand politics.

When it came to the proper use of profanity, Daddy was peerless.  He could skillfully inject cuss words into conversations when least expected.  In those days we never owned a dog or cat but we owned a lot of damn dogs and damn cats. His favorite cuss word of all time was “sumbitch”. He referred to everyone on the planet as a “sumbitch”.  He referred to people he didn’t like as “no good sumbitches”, “worthless sumbitches” and “good for nothing sumbitches”.  With the aid of his easy to understand classification system I could distinguish the people he liked from those he didn’t. To his credit he never used cuss words in the presence of females or preachers.

By the time I was eleven there wasn’t much in the way of profanity I didn’t understand. At least that's what I thought until the Saturday night I stowed away in a storeroom to read comic books. Back then, as now, Honky-Tonks provide a venue for guys to hone their cussing skills while waxing eloquently about their latest roll in the hay.  On this night as the liquor began to take hold, the jokes became more raucous and their romantic exploits more vivid. They used words I’d never heard before. Next day I discussed the latest additions to my vocabulary with an older cousin and he provided graphic definitions. I’m sure glad I discussed it with him rather than my Momma. 

Another honky-tonk in my early life was situated on the Adams County side of the Adams and Franklin County line.  Franklin County where I lived was a dry county while Adams County was wet.  The Leesdale Honky-Tonk, as it was called, occupied a dilapidated frame building painted barn red. When Daddy would stop by for a beer and I was along for the ride, he’d let me go inside for my favorite big orange drink.  Honky-Tonks aren’t likely to have windows so Leesdale was almost as dark as the inside of a drum and smelled of sweat, spilled beer and cigarette smoke.  During the hot summer months there was one osculating fan straining to move the hot air around.  It sat at the bar alongside big glass jars of boiled pigs' feet and pickled eggs.  I’d sit and gaze wistfully at those strange delicacies and wonder how they would taste with my big orange drink.

Every Mama living in the surrounding area warned their children about the Leesdale Honky-Tonk.  Without question it was a wild and wicked place. So naturally, when I was old enough to drink beer I'd stop by. I was always careful to park my vehicle out back where it couldn’t be seen from the highway. The last thing I needed in my life was for someone to tell Mama they saw my car parked at a Honky-Tonk.

Leesdale is where I discovered the best tasting swig of beer is always in the top of the bottle and boiled pigs' feet taste as bad as they look.  On the other hand pickled eggs taste pretty good. Today Leesdale, alas, is long gone.  Nothing left but weeds, old beer bottles and rusty cans.  I’m sure Mama is looking down from Heaven saying, "Good riddance!" 

Recalling those old Honky-tonks got me to wondering where the term "Honky-Tonk" originated. The Oxford English Dictionary reports it's origin as unknown.  It’s commonly agreed that the term is an Americanism and  was first mentioned in an 1894 Oklahoma newspaper. While its origin is unknown its components are well known: booze, second hand smoke, music, dancing, loud noise, cussing, romance and fighting.  In short, RAUCOUS FUN!

My google research revealed that some of the first Honky-Tonk music was ragtime piano.  That’s interesting because during the 1900's a piano manufacturer by the name of William Tonk built upright pianos that were associated with honky-tonks.  Some folks are convinced this solves the Tonk part of the mystery but others claim the term “Honky-Tonk” predates the William Tonk piano. 

One of many theories suggests the origin on the word Honky comes from the derogatory words bohunk and hunky used to describe certain groups of European immigrants to America. Another theory suggests the term was coined to imitate the sounds created inside a honky-tonk.  Yet another attributes honky to the Choctaw word for ball ground, "hetoka” and a slang dictionary suggests it originated from the New England dialect word "honk" which means "to idle about". This is much too confusing for me so I think I’ll go along with the mysterious Oxford English Dictionary position….”unknown”.