The Golden Horn

 

Stop me if you heard me tell this adventure before:

In about 1959 or 1960 we heard of a "beatnik coffee house" in Atlanta on 15th Street. Beatnik was a relative new word and we were just unsure what all this free love and all that entailed, and just how could we get in on this "free love."

So, one school night several of us went to this coffee house we heard about. The name of it was THE GOLDEN HORN.

Inside were tables, a crowd that I think were mostly Georgia Tech students, it was very close to their campus. There was a small stage with a person in leotards and a unicorn's head doing an interpretative dance.

We ordered a round of coffee. We sat there and drunk our coffee and decided there was nothing to it. The waitress brought the check for the table and it was something like $40 or $50. We had less than $10 between us.

We whispered among ourselves, how to get out without paying. By the door to the outside there was a table with cakes. We decided to all go up to the table like we were trying to decide what kind of cake we wanted and when no one was looking, run out the door.

We went to the table and to add a little realism I put my finger out pointing at various cakes, like I was really trying to make up my mind.... WHAM! The waitress whizzed a sharp knife by my finger and said, "Touch a cake and off goes your finger honey!"

I laughed, surely she was joki;ng.

She said, "You think I am joking?" and jabbed the knife at me. I started to back up and she jabbed in the air at me again. About that time I heard the door. There went my friends.

She chased me around the room, up on the stage, knocking the unicorn off balance, and back towards the table. If she was smart she would have kept me away from the table and the door. I ran out the door.

I caught up with Monty and the rest just about a half block away. It was slightly raining. We got in the car and Monty realized he left his wallet on the table. He said we need to go back and get his wallet.

I said I wasn't going back.

He said he wasn't leaving until he went and got his wallet.

We had another plan. Since I vowed not to go back in, I was chosen to drive the get away car.

Monty and the others ran in grunting like pigs and even crawling on the floor. It cracked everybody up. They were laughing so hard when Monty grabbed his wallet off the table and they all ran out no one seemed to be bothered. We escape into the night.

Below is a picture of the building the Golden Horn was in, right across the street from the High Museum.

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