"STAN AND BIGGIE'S"

 “STAN AND BIGGIE’S”

Today August 22 is the birthday of my childhood friend, Brown Higgins.  He and I were born three months apart and pretty much grew up together, because his grandmother was my “Gran,’ also known as Mrs. Bernice Higgins.  Gran was the great gift to my mother and me – we moved in with her in Helena, Arkansas, after my father abandoned our family for another woman in 1947 or so.  We would live in that house with Gran on Porter Street until Gran died in 1959.  After that my mother rented and later bought the house from Gran’s son Jack.  My mother lived there until her death in 2004.  Gran’s other son was Brown, named after Gran’s birth name.  Brown was the dad of my friend Brown.  In typical Southern style, we called father Brown “Big Brown” and my contemporary “Little Brown,” though as a teenager he  chafed at that name.

Brown and I spent many hours together – his family often gathered at our house on Sunday evenings for Sunday dinner with Gran, and he and I were always in the same grade in school.  He and I had several different personalities – he was assertive and mischievous, while I was shy and reticent.  He had a great sense of humor and often played tricks on people, including me.  We both grew up with the same racist roots – taught by good white people that we were superior because of our racial classification of “white.”  

    Brown’s dad was a big “Ole Miss” football fan, and he used to include me on trips to his native Mississippi to see the football games.  I remember one of those trips vividly.  It was on Saturday, September 29, 1962, the football game that followed the integration of Ole Miss by James Meredith, a Black man who wanted to attend his state university.  In response to this event, white people had caused a race riot in Oxford.   At that football game just after those events, Governor Ross Barnett spoke to the largely white crowd, justifying why he had “stood up” to the federal government against racial justice.  He then led us all in singing a song “Go, Mississippi,” and though Brown and I felt uncomfortable with this song, we joined in singing the song and cheering Ross Barnett.

    I will always be grateful to “Big” Brown for taking me many places with Brown, especially sports events.  Brown often made an annual pilgrimage to St. Louis to see our beloved Cardinals play baseball, and he included me on those trips – as a boy who loved baseball, it was heavenly.  Brown and I often tried to get autographs from the Cardinals’ greatest player Stan Musial,  one of the most feared hitters ever in baseball.  After several summers of failing to get “Stan the Man’s” autograph, we came up with a plan.  We would go and visit Stan Musial at his restaurant in St. Louis, and we would get his autograph there, without so many people pressing around Stan the Man.  The restaurant was known as “Stan and Biggie’s,” and it was a famous fixture in St. Louis in those late 1950’s days.

    Though Brown and I had discussed the plan, I had never thought that we would try to carry through on it.  For me it was just a daydream, a “what if.”  Brown, however, took it seriously, and he devised a plan to carry it out.  We would ride a couple of crosstown busses to get to “Stan and Biggie’s,” go in the afternoon of a scheduled night baseball game, and surely Stan Musial would be there and would somehow welcome us and give us the treasured autographs.  I tried to talk Brown out of it, hoping that his dad would nix the plan, but “Big” Brown said “yes, have at it.”  So, I reluctantly got on the bus at our hotel, headed for a bus transfer in downtown St. Louis, then catch another bus to “Stan and Biggie’s” on Chippewa Avenue.  We had ridden local busses in Helena and urban busses in Memphis on trips there, so neither of us were intimidated by the bus trips.  I just could not imagine that the great Stan Musial would give us the time of day, if we even found him at the restaurant.

    While I felt that I was not worthy, Brown saw it as an opportunity worth pursuing, and pursue it we did.  I still remember getting off the bus at the restaurant – Brown had asked the bus driver to let us off there, and we felt special that he was glad to help us.  We saw the sign “Stan and Biggie’s Charcoal Steak Restaurant,” but I did not want to get too excited, because my Eyeore approach told me that the restaurant would be locked, and even if it were open, Stan would not be there.  The awfulizing went on, but I’ll spare you that, because we opened the door to the restaurant, and there was Stan the Man Musial, standing at the bar, talking with Biggie!

    Stan Musial seemed so pleased to see us, especially when Brown stepped up to say: “Gosh, Mr. Musial, we are such big fans of yours, and we have ridden two busses to find your restaurant.  We hope so much that we can get your autograph!”  My heart was pounding in my chest as Brown said these words, so easily and so matter-of-factly.  Stan Musial responded as the genuine baseball star that he was: “Sure boys, and why don’t I buy you a Coke while you’re here.”  As he signed our photos and shared the soda with us, I remember feeling like I was the king of the world.  I don’t remember anything else that we talked about, and I do not remember the bus ride back to the hotel, but I’ll always remember Brown’s ingenuity in getting us this encounter (and autograph) with Stan Musial.  The restaurant no longer exists (if you want more info on it, here’s a link to it http://losttables.com/musial/musial.htm), but that memory will last me forever.  Thanks, Brown!