Ray Evans

The hopelessly insecure aspiring songwriters of the world could conceivably create giant mounds of waste paper as they search for the perfect lyrical phrase. This image is a good way of introducing a scrap paper dealer from Salamanca, New York, active at the close of the 19th century. The connection might seem like a parable out of Lao Tzu, but it is still the sort of wisdom that might make songwriting failures feel a little better as they wad up another piece of paper and head out the door for their restaurant jobs. This scrap paper dealer had a son named Ray Evans. The son d...