Cajun Adventure Part 2: The Happening That Never Happened
- Place – Triangle Club Scott, Louisiana
- Time – 1992
- Radio DJ – Camey Doucet
The Triangle Club
After a good night sleep at a Carlean hotel I was up early listening to the radio.
During the show I heard the DJ talking about a Cajun happening that afternoon at the Triangle Club located in a town called Scott .
Having studied my map for a while, I set off and arrived at the club.
Pulling up in the car park I could hear the music throbbing through the walls of yet another rundown building.
Although the place looked uninviting, I had come a long way to search for my young act, so there was no choice but to get on the front foot and venture in.
On entering the front door from the bright daylight outside, into the darkly lit inside of the club, my vision was reduced.
Luck was with me, someone was leaving just as I entered into the doorway, which made me aware that there was a large step down just inside the door; this could have been a catastrophe of epic proportions, with me missing the step, tripping and charging towards the bar, head down like a Matadors bull, hardly a dignified entrance.
I casually strolled to the bar trying to look inconspicuous and in total control, my eyes were now becoming accustomed to the light.
A Near Miss
There was a band playing on stage and man, were they loud?
So loud I wasn’t sure if they were playing Cajun or reggae or just tuning up.
I found a seat at the bar and sat down, between the songs, when the barman could hear me, I ordered a beer.
What little conversation I could hear was taking place in French Creole.
I asked a guy sitting to my right, in English, if he knew the name of the band playing,
“Don’t know, don’t care.” He replied curtly.
The band were just announcing their next song, I took a large mouthful of beer.
Having just swallowed the beer the woman standing behind me leaned forward about an inch from my ear and let out the loudest rebel yell I had ever heard.
Had this happened a fraction of a second earlier the mouthful of beer would have shot out like water from a fireman’s hose and hit the back of the head of the guy in front of me, no doubt causing me to be involved in some kind of major fracas.
Lady Luck was truly looking after me that day.
The band on stage weren’t burdened by talent and were less than impressive, I figured I had pushed my luck far enough for one day, it was time to drink up and leave.
After several more days of trudging around second-rate clubs looking at second-rate bands, I came to the conclusion this was not the way to discover my new star, the major artist I was looking for.
So far, I really wasn’t enjoying my trip to Louisiana, it was really quite disappointing.
I decided to give up and head back to Texas.
Back to Texas
On the drive back I tuned into a Cajun radio station to, the DJ was a guy called Camey Doucet.
I had a light bulb moment, Camey Doucet must know a great deal about the local bands and artists, he could be the key to the door I was trying to open.
Deciding it was time to stop, I checked into a hotel in Lake Charles for the night and tried to make contact with Camey.
I called the Radio station and spoke to his secretary, I explained who I was and why I was in Louisiana.
She told me that Camey was on air but she would tell him I had called and she assured me that she would have him call me back when he had finished the show.
Before too long he returned my call and I related my entire story to him.
Without hesitation he said,
“Well, there is only one kid I can think of that fits the description you’re looking for, that’s Toby Tomera, he’s sixteen years old and is about as talented as you can get.”
He kindly gave me a couple of contact numbers and suggested I mention that Camey said to call.
I thought I had struck gold…
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