Yeah. That's it. He's one of the last of that. He's my age. He was out there with us, the Boozan Kings. They was from the sixth ward. Him and Joe Torre [? (spelling)]. His mother had this famous sporting house. Joe Torre, he was a dancer and he was a performer. He was a little old man when he was a kid. Act like a old man. You saw them, and they was making money, and people was talking to them. Other people would talk to you when you played. They played some kind of, something to make, anything to make money, they would stop and talk to you. Ask you a person's private business. So I went through that b.s. The ukulele craze came on. This was 19 . . . 22. Yeah. '21 or '22. Ukulele craze came running. I'm looking around. I see this little kid in the neighborhood named Herman, Herman Ennison [? (spelling)], and there was another one who was a teacher. Can't think. His name will come to me. His daddy was a mailman. He was well-to-do. He played the ukulele. Played it beautiful. I'm listening to him playing ukulele. I saw my aunt had a ukulele, a banjo-uke. And she's laying around the house. She wasn't doing nothing. When she had bought it, because ukuleles was the craze in that period of time. So, something told me to say, ask her if she want to sell it. I seen Herman Ennison playing it, about my age, a couple of blocks from me. And this little boy around the corner, he was playing one in the evening. So I said, I looked, watched him, and I said, [? (inaudible)] you are, moving your fingers, pressing down. So I asked her would she want to sell her ukulele. She said, "Yeah, I'll sell it. " I said, "What you pay for it? " Said, "I paid $12 for it. " It was pretty good. Things wasn't that expensive like they are today. Said, "I'll sell it to you for $8. " I said, "I ain't got 8. " She said, "You'll have to pay me once a week. Give me 50 cents a week or half, a quarter a week. " I said, "O.k.," so I gave her a dollar, I think, and I owed her the rest, and I brought it to her, 'til I finished paying. I went around to . . . The boy's named Ashton Murray. He's been dead about ten years now. Ashton Murray, maybe not that long. He was a high-class boy, or kid. Sophisticated, nice. I went around to him, and he tuned it up for me and showed me a few chords, Ain't Gonna  ? (inaudible)]. I learned that. I was enthused. Then it went out of tune, and I was in trouble. So I go back, and he tuned it up again. I guess his mother and father got tired of me knocking on the door, asked me to tune up. So a old musician told me, said, "You got to listen at the sounds in relation to one another. " That's what he said. "Then you'll be able to do that, tune your instrument up. " So I did what he said. Next thing you know, I was playing and I was singing. I was still watching them two, and I become quite accomplished. I figured I could be [? (inaudible)], putting some monkey shine on that thing. That's how I started with the ukulele.