I was playing an outdoor gig with Stonewall Jackson, a fair or something in New York State. We were sitting around the bus, killing time until it was time to dazzle everyone with “Me and You and A Dog Named Boo”. A cop came on the bus to visit and Stonewall asked him about his Mace.
“Hey, Hoss, what’s that on your belt?”
The cop explained what is was and how it worked.
So Stonewall, always willing to absorb new ideas, held it in his hand and peered curiously at it, like King Kong did to Fay Wray. Then he sprayed himself in the face. On purpose. Wanted to see how it worked, he said. He could barely sing. I mean, he could barely sing in time for the show.