"There is absolutely no controlling or guiding him. He says what he pleases, when he pleases to say it, all very pontifically. I think the resemblance to the authoritative African wise man or witch doctor is striking... Rev. Davis is a wonderful, poetic, old gentleman. He is also as bitter and grieved a ghost of human decency and dignity as ever haunted this weary strumpeted old earth."
He was quite... almost mysterious... full of spirits... he could be both... he could be lively. Down in Newport... he was so nervous... he was scared shitless. That’s probably the quietest I ever seen him. He could rub people the wrong way. But I was on his good side. I never gave him any argument. I tell you the truth, he liked those %$#@houses and drank a lot... I asked my mom as a young kid what that was. She said, “It gave him the spirit”
They were rough. Men were hustling women and selling bootleg and Lemon was singing for them all night... he'd start singing about eight and go on until four in the morning... mostly it would be just him sitting there and playing and singing all night.
Irish writer, co-editor of 3:AM Magazine
("a dream publication for the young, literary and clued-up, and it counter-balances nicely the London/New York publishing behemoth.” - The Times). Hobbies include whiskey, rum, gin and regret.