In 1965 a friend and I signed out on week-end passes and hitch-hiked up to Philadelphia where Doc was playing at the Main Point. The two of us had met as guitar-slingers around the barracks and we timed our arrival well before door-opening. We grabbed the tiny table just in front of the microphones and with our knees against the foot-high stage, so we could most closely observe Doc's fingers. Merle brought him on stage and got him settled. (He would re-join him him for the second set, later.) At some point during that first set, Doc finished a song and while talking to the audience, he cupped his left hand to his right, slipping his finger-picks off and into his left palm. But this routine motion rapped his left knuckles gently against the voice microphone. The T-joint of the boom-mic stand was unfortunately LOOSE. Picture the following in slow-motion. The mike immediately spun away from him. Doc said, "well I swang it right away, didn't I?" I rose to a half-crouch, grabbed the counter-weight of the mike-stand, rotated the mike back in front of his mouth, and sat down. Doc looked straight in my eyes (I swear), said "Thank you" and proceeded to change his picks and introduce the next song. I've had the willies ever since. And I never got to say "You're welcome, Doc."