'In 1963, before the Beatles burst on the scene, a brief but powerful infatuation with folk music gripped America. The TV show that came along at the right time to capitalize on the craze was Hootenanny ... At that time, Ronnie and Billy's grandfather lived with the Paquettes. He was known as Hector the Barber because that had been his trade ..... Hector the Barber rarely said anything. He just sat in the living room, tipping capfuls of bourbon whiskey into his coffee and smoking Tiparillos ... when he did talk, his discourse was peppered with profanity.

 

He liked Hootenanny though ... One night, after some white boy sang something about how his baby left him and he felt so sad, Hector the Barber snorted and said, "Shit, boys, that ain't the blues."

'

"What do you mean, Grampa?" Ronnie asked.

 

"Blues is mean music. That boy sounded like he just peed the bed and he's afraid his mama might find out." ......

 

"You wait," he said, and slowly mounted the stairs, yanking himself along by the bannister with one gnarled hand. He was gone so long the boys had almost forgotten about him when Hector came back down carrying a beat-up Silvertone guitar by the neck. Its body was scuffed and held together with a hank of frayed hayrope .... He sat down with a grunt and a fart, and hauled the guitar onto his bony knees ... "Shut that shit off," he said.

​

Ronnie did so ... " didn't know you played, Grampa," he said.

​

"Ain't in years," Hector said. "Put it away when the arthritis started to bite. I don't know if I can even tune the bitch anymore."

​

'"Language, Dad," Mrs Paquette called from the kitchen.

​

Hector the Barber paid no attention to her .... He tuned the guitar slowly, muttering curses under his breath, then he played a chord that actually sounded a bit like music.

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"Wow!" Ronnie said. "Which chord is that, Grampa?"

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"E. All this shit starts with E." .... he began to strum the old guitar, using one horney nicotine-yellowed fingernail as a pick ..... then he picked up a steady, chugging rhythm that made the boys glance at each other in amazement. His fingers slid up and down the fretboard clumsily at first, then ... a little more smoothly: B to A to G and back home to E .... In a high, wailing voice utterly unlike the one he spoke in (when he did speak), Ronnie's grandpa sang: "Why don't you drop down, darlin', let your daddy see ... you got somethin', darlin, keep on worryin' me ..."

​

.Hector the Barber was now thumping his foot in time and grinning. Con said he had never seen the old man grin before ........

 

"My mama don't allow me to fool around all night long ... she afraid some woman might ... might ..." He drew it out. "Miight not treat me right!" Hector launched into the second verse .... but then a string broke: TWANNG.

​

"Oh, you dirty c**t", he said, and that was it for Hector the Barber's impromptu concert. Mrs Paquette snatched away his guitar (the broken string flying dangerously close to her eye) and told him to go outside and sit on the porch if he was going to talk that way. Hector the Barber did not go out on the porch, but he did lapse back into his accustomed silence. The boys never heard him sing and play again. He died the following summer ....