Shula & all,

Off the top o' m' head--this is what comes back now...

Paul Durst's parents came to the U.S.A. in 1848. They wound up in Wisconsin because it reminded them of their home in Switzerland. Paul had strong remembrances of his youth (born in 1868). Living in a log home behind a log stockade of sorts. "Behind the logs with a lantern hanging off the end of your rifle. The wolves'd come in toward the compound and the light from the lantern's fire would reflect from the eyes of the animalals. You'd just see two glowing dots out there in the below zero winter blackness---and you'd aim between the dots of light. And we'd just knock 'em off--one after the other. The pelts'd make good warm clothing."

Later, Paul worked for the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show. He had whiskers just like Bill and so folks started calling him Buffalo Bill too. A friend later wrote a song about Paul that was called, "BUFFALO BILL". Paul gave me a printed copy of the song on September 20th, 1961. Tune was "THE WABASH CANNONBALL"

I know an old time friend of mine who travelled the hobo way,
From coast to coast through Canada, so this I heard him say,
He rode the rods, climbed high on top, caught many on the fly,
Cooked his meals in jungle style while watching the trains roll by.

Those jungles were quiteplentiful along most railroad tracks,
Where many 'boes were camping--some with bindles on their backs,
While coffeepots and kettles made out of old tin cans,
Were strung along the cooking place with many frying pans.

The reason for his roaming he tried hard to explain,
You see the jobs were far apart and seasonal in the main,
For when the wheat was harvested, the apples needed men,
This forced him to the hobo life with many of his kin.

Never underrate a hobo for he has skill and wisdom too,
The one I'm writin' this about always knows what to do,
When times get tough you'll see him busy entertaining men,
With familiar lines of music played on his violin.

So come and see the double of old time Circus Bill,
Drop in some friendlt tavern where you'll surely get a thrill,
I know that he'll amuse you while fiddlin' on a string,
But don't forget some silver--just enough to make it ring.

This is the history of one who went through the mill,
He's nicknamed in the cities by the name of Buffalo Bill,
You can find him now on skid row with a fiddle in his hand,
Travellin' up and down Madison Street---this happy smilin' man.

Paul told me that a fellow in California had compoed this song about him several years earlier---but he didn't remember how many...and he didn't recall the guy's name.

Yep, he'd been a part of the old Buffalo Bill Wild West Show---along with Sitting Bull and many others. They took a ship to Europe (actually Germany) with the show and inadvertantly introduced Hoof And Mouth Disease to Europe. All of Bill's show cattle had to be slaughtered over there and Bill (and all) came home pretty much broke. Bill had to be re-financed by an old friend--P.T. Barnum--another great showman of that era.

But "Madison Street" mentioned in this song isn't in California; that was Chicago's Skid Row up until recently---still is here in 1999 to an extent. Madison Street was where Pete Leibundguth (the owner of The Fret Sop--a music store on 57th St. in Chicago--found Paul. Mr. Durst, 93 then, broke, was pretty much in decline. So Pete asked Paul Durst to move into the back room of his shop which had once been a concession stand for the World's Columbian Exposition in 1893. I was teaching a beginning guitar course there then. Jim Kweskin was teaching an advanced guitar pickin' course then--1961. And that was how I got to know (and tape) Paul Durst. I was too young to know the right things to ask him though. God , I do wish I knew then all that I know now; it would've been one hell of an interview.

Paul had a stroke a few months later. It got so bad that, while he was in the hospital and paralized on one side, they brought a priest in to give him the Last Rites. Paul woke up and saw this gy standing over him and mumbling something and it enraged Paul. Remember this old man was half a vegetable, but he managed, in his anger, to bodily throw the priest out of his hospital room!!! (Paul was a lifelong atheist.)

Well, Paul made a recovery and was, once again, back living in the back room of the Fret Shop. A lady of about 70 years came into the store to get a uke for a kid. They got to talking...The last I saw of Paul was when he moved in to live with that lady. I was amazed.

After that, I never did see Paul again. But a year or so later the Chicago paper had a story about an old man with a long flowing beard who had been found dead on the lower level of Wacker Drive in Chicago--in an out of the way spot under the Michigan Avenue Bridge. "The man", the caption on a photo read, "had only a beat up old fiddle with him!"

Art Thieme