The Bright Stage
I was fourteen when I first sat down at a piano, and I was fourteen when I knew that music was going to ruin my father's life and save mine at the same time. The bar was called The Velvet Cellar, though there was nothing velvet about it. It was below a laundromat on 135th Street, and the stairs smelled of bleach and stale beer. My daddy James worked there on Friday and Saturday nights, playing...
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