Working in a singing group on stage at the Playboy Club-Atlanta 1967. The song was We Shall Walk Through The Valley-a semi-rousing spiritual. At one particularly joyous moment, a guy in the audience stands up, reaches into his jacket, pulls out a pistol, points it at the stage and mumbles something about blasphemous yankees singing about the Lord in a place like The Playboy Club.
Imagine five guys trying to hide behind each other. Still singing, of course...strummin' our asses off.
Troupers 'til the end.
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