1956 Good Old Rock and Roll

1956—The Year I Discovered Rock & Roll Music!

By Melton Carr

South Louisiana in the nineteen fifties was a great place to grow up if you were an always-got-to-be-busy, fun-seeking teenager. That was ME!

My musical idols included B.B. King, Muddy Waters, and the Platters. Blues, rhythm and blues, and that good old rock and roll were catching the ears of teenagers everywhere. We were hungry for a new sound and a new thrill.

I know. I was one of them

I grew up in New Iberia, surrounded by Cajun people who knew how to have a good time. My best friend was a Cajun boy everyone called Charlie. If there was fun to be found, Charlie was ready—and I usually wasn’t far behind.

Most Friday nights, we double-dated. We might take our girlfriends to the old Echo Drive-In theater or go dancing wherever we could find some of that good old rock and roll music.

South Louisiana had plenty of nightclubs and bars. The saying back then was that if you were tall enough to stand at the bar, you were old enough to order a drink.

Charlie and I were tall enough, and we did.

Our usual order was Budweiser in those long-neck bottles. Mind you, we were only sixteen! Looking back, I’m not proud of every choice I made at that age. But back then, we thought we were pretty grown-up. One Friday night, our girlfriends—Mickie and, of course, I’ll never forget… what’s her name?—both had other plans. So Charlie and I decided to cruise over to nearby Loreauville, an even smaller town.

We had heard about a little nightclub there. If memory serves, it was called Dressell’s Club Rock & Roll. It catered to the local Black community and had live bands playing good dance music.

That night, good music and a couple of willing dance partners were exactly what Charlie and I were looking for.

This was 1956, and segregation was part of life in Louisiana. We understood that white boys weren’t supposed to go to that club. Whether that was an actual rule or simply what we had been told, I couldn’t say.

We went anyway.

As far as I remember, we were the only two white boys there. There were young Black women and some older women, too—and could they dance! The place was smoky and sweaty, but the music played on. And we danced. And we danced!

A young woman named Charlotta took the time to help me with my new dance moves. She was a terrific dancer, and that night became my first real experience dancing to rock and roll. All these years later, I still remember her name.

That was 1956, when rock and roll was young—and so were we.

As best I can recall, it was the first and last time I ever danced with a Black woman. That’s a shame, because I had a wonderful time.

If Charlotta is still living, she would probably be in her eighties now, just like me. I wonder whether she remembers that evening—or the boy who needed a little help with his feet.

Probably not.

But I remember Charlotta. And I remember that smoky little nightclub, Charlie, and the music that kept us dancing. Those were my early days as a teenager, discovering a sound I would never forget.

Ahh..that good old rock and roll!