BLUE ABOUT 'BLUE' HARASSMENT

I am a professional musician. For the past seven or eight years I have been
playing gigs in and around Charleston as well as on the road. Since
September 1999, I have been playing guitar with Momma & The Misfits at
Momma's Blues Palace on John Street. One night, around 11 p.m., while at
Momma's, I decided to go outside, get a breath of fresh air, smoke a
cigarette, and get away from the crowd and music for a while. So I did just
that. For about 15 minutes or so I stood right by the front door of Momma's
Blues Palace enjoying a smoke.

At the end of my break it was time for me to go back to work. So I did what
I usually do and walked around the side of the building on my way to the
stage door. As I was walking a couple of Charleston policemen were riding
by on bicycles. As I was just starting to open the stage door I was ordered
to put my hands against the wall. One of the cops proceeded to search me
while the other cop commented about the odor of marijuana emanating from my
person. Next, the cop who was searching me took my keys out of my pocket,
ordered me to sit on the curb, and proceeded to search my vehicle. The cops
had to let me go because I was clean as a whistle - no alcohol, marijuana,
or drugs on me or in my vehicle.

But this is just the kind of harassment that makes me sick to my stomach. I
would imagine I was stopped by the cops purely because of my appearance.
There was no smell of marijuana about me. I hadn't been smoking pot. And I
was wearing fresh clean clothes that I had put on just a couple hours
earlier. About the only smell coming from me was bar smoke and my cigarette
smoke. But I am a musician and look like one. I have long hair and a full
beard. And my usual garb is work pants and a T-shirt - fairly standard
musician wear. I was in my work clothes. I just happen to spend my workday
at night in a bar.

As a full-time guitarist/sometimes bassets I don't make a lot of money.
Though it's still what I do to pay the bills and make ends meet. Regardless
of my opinions about "drugs," what I don't have is a lot of money to be
spending on illegal substances. What spare money I do have goes into things
like guitar strings, cables, and on rare occasions guitars and amplifiers.
Most of my money after bills goes back into my work. It just doesn't seem
logical to me that anybody would suspect me of being involved in any
illegal drug activity, especially when I don't look like I really would
have the money to be.

It really makes me wonder what the world is coming to when cops have
nothing better to do than harass me when there seems to be at least a
certain amount of gangsta action in the same neighborhood. At the very same
spot I was being searched one of my guitars was stolen a few months
earlier. I still haven't found it. Not too long before that I saw a man
shot in the same parking lot. I was even one of the people policing the
area for bullets.

The incident that night wasn't the only time I was needlessly harassed by
The Man. Around February, while driving back from playing guitar in
Florence, I was pulled over by a state trooper for a blown headlight. I
could understand that. But I was actually handcuffed, taken to the Holly
Hill police station, and tested for DUI. The ticket for the headlight was
deserved. But as a result of being taken in, my car was towed. I was
stopped around 6 in the morning. I did not get back home to James Island
until about two that afternoon. Most of my time was spent trying to round
up the $75 to get my car from the tow company.

Also, when I finally got to my car I discovered that although there was
about $2,000 worth of musical equipment in the back seat, my doors were
unlocked and a couple windows were down.

We musicians, artists, longhairs, and presumably "antiestablishment" types
are among the good guys. We're out there busting our collective asses to
make a living like most people are, albeit in unconventional ways. It's
what we do that gives you some escape from your day in, day out existence.
If it's us the cops are after, it's time for them to step back and recognize.

Roy Brooks

James Island