Kevin could play slide like Duane Allman. He was a bright guy from the rich side of town that I met in college. He always seemed to have a different girlfriend. We hung out in the same crowd. And even though we weren't the best of friends we got along okay because we liked to jam together. His guitar was an old Les Paul and it sounded great. He introduced me to Allman Brothers and Grateful Dead music. Later it was reggae.
After we had both moved home from college Kevin called and said there was a jam session with some guys that he knew from west county. I headed over there.
It was Kevin and a good drummer named Jim and a mild mannered guitar player whose name I've forgotten. Kevin and the guitar player had worked out many of the double lead parts by the Allman Brothers. I was a better singer than the other guys. Eventually I bought a bass and we formed a band doing mostly Allman Brothers, Grateful Dead, some Santana and Little Feat.
Our big debut was on a tuesday night at a dump, since torn down, called 20 North. It was the house bar for a band called Jake's Leg. They alway packed the place on the weekend.
We went over well enough that we were invited back. Kevin's guitar playing could be spectacular. The impression still lasts to this day.
Eventually we tried to play more and more reggae. It wasn't very convincing, even though I really enjoyed the music. Kevin got tired of the playing with us and moved on. The other guitar player quit playing altogether and focused on his career. Jim and I bacame good friends and went through quite a few more projects. Jim was never really interested in playing the bars, so eventually we gave up on it.
Last summer I ran into Kevin while I was out on a bike ride. He was looking fit and trim. He said he was devoted to his family and seemed to be happy. Now he was interested in spacey jazz.
It didn't surprize me. We had a good run together. I'll always appreciate those great moments he provided back in the day.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
First Ride
It was a green bike. I think it was by big sister's. It had one speed. It had fenders so strong that you could sit on them.
My sister was letting me pedal while she sat on the back. I wasn't tall enough to sit on the seat, so I just stood up. Karol was being very nice and was laughing at my awkward attempts as I pedaled her past the Goeckenbach house, then past Mrs. Wegman's back toward our mailbox. This went on for a while and Karol started to get tired of it.
Pedaling along, she said she was getting tired of our game and that she wanted to get off. I said go ahead and as she jumped off I somehow kept going!
I was up. I didn't know how to stop. The whole ride lasted just a few seconds. I started to lose my balance and ran up into the grass in front of the next door neighbors and tipped over in the yard.
Karol ran up to celebrate. We both ran in and told my mom.
Thinking back, that was in 1962. Kennedy was president. No Beatles yet, no computers, no air conditioning, no moms working. Hawks basketball, Cardinal football, no hockey, Ed Sullivan, corn field in the back yard, tons of kids to play with; not a bad time to be alive and riding your bike down the street.
My sister was letting me pedal while she sat on the back. I wasn't tall enough to sit on the seat, so I just stood up. Karol was being very nice and was laughing at my awkward attempts as I pedaled her past the Goeckenbach house, then past Mrs. Wegman's back toward our mailbox. This went on for a while and Karol started to get tired of it.
Pedaling along, she said she was getting tired of our game and that she wanted to get off. I said go ahead and as she jumped off I somehow kept going!
I was up. I didn't know how to stop. The whole ride lasted just a few seconds. I started to lose my balance and ran up into the grass in front of the next door neighbors and tipped over in the yard.
Karol ran up to celebrate. We both ran in and told my mom.
Thinking back, that was in 1962. Kennedy was president. No Beatles yet, no computers, no air conditioning, no moms working. Hawks basketball, Cardinal football, no hockey, Ed Sullivan, corn field in the back yard, tons of kids to play with; not a bad time to be alive and riding your bike down the street.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Hoosier 101 part 6
Jimmy didn't think of himself as a criminal. In a way, he really wasn't. He didn't shoplift. Bills got paid, usually late but he paid them. Every once in a while he would lose his temper, but he hadn't been in a brawl since 7th grade. His problem was his choice of friends. Tim Collins asked his to drive him to the liquor store about a year back.
"No problemo"
"I forgot my wallet. Could you stop at this house on the way so's I can run in and get it?"
They stopped. Jimmy thought it was odd that Tim ran around back. He was sitting there about 5 minutes when he saw a cop coming down the street with its lights on. Watching it in the rear view mirror they stopping right behind him. Then another. Then another. Next thing he knew Tim was coming out in handcuffs from behind the house.
Jimmy tried to explain that he was just giving his buddy a ride but the cops weren't buying it. Tim wasn't covering for him, so it was kind of hopeless. He spent the weekend in jail. By the time the trial came around he got probation.
Howard walked up the cracked up sidewalk with a rail made of painted pipe. His keys still in his hands, he tapped on the door glass. TACK TACK TACK. Jimmy knew it was his probation officer by the knock. He closed the back door and head up to let him in.
"Howard. Come on in."
Howard walked in and the familiar smell had him breathing mostly through his mouth. His hand held a worn vanilla folder. He went into the living room and set in a table under a velvet Elvis painting.
"No problemo"
"I forgot my wallet. Could you stop at this house on the way so's I can run in and get it?"
They stopped. Jimmy thought it was odd that Tim ran around back. He was sitting there about 5 minutes when he saw a cop coming down the street with its lights on. Watching it in the rear view mirror they stopping right behind him. Then another. Then another. Next thing he knew Tim was coming out in handcuffs from behind the house.
Jimmy tried to explain that he was just giving his buddy a ride but the cops weren't buying it. Tim wasn't covering for him, so it was kind of hopeless. He spent the weekend in jail. By the time the trial came around he got probation.
Howard walked up the cracked up sidewalk with a rail made of painted pipe. His keys still in his hands, he tapped on the door glass. TACK TACK TACK. Jimmy knew it was his probation officer by the knock. He closed the back door and head up to let him in.
"Howard. Come on in."
Howard walked in and the familiar smell had him breathing mostly through his mouth. His hand held a worn vanilla folder. He went into the living room and set in a table under a velvet Elvis painting.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Chuck Clay Tribute
After the L.A. West Band broke up I fell out for a while. I missed it, but got real busy getting ready to run the Chicago marathon. That's a whole 'nother story, but it took a lot of time and not playing in a band kind of helped.
The marathon came and went in October. I was getting used to not playing.
The phone rang in February and it was Ben Wells. He said there was a band that needed a front man and they were getting together to have a jam. If I was interested I should call Danny and get the scoop. So I called him and got the time and place.
I was Mardi Gras time in St. Louis. The place for the jam wasn't near the Mardi Gras, but people were dressed up and celebrating anyway. I pulled up in the gravel parking lot to the bar and saw a hand written sign that said "Chuck Clay Tribute". It was an old place that overlooked the interstate. A real hoosier dump, so I felt right at home.
Inside there were a bunch of guys playing. The usual smoke and beer smell. I wasn't a huge group, maybe 25 people. They were there to honor the band's front man, Chuck Clay. Chuck had just died a few weeks earlier. I had never heard of him, but he had a long run playing on the local scene. His wife was Ingrid Berry, Chuck Berry's daughter. She wanted to be a singer and was supposedly pretty good, but kind of hard to work with. She wasn't there either, which I thought was odd.
So I laid back for a while and Danny finally introduced himself during a break. On just the first few tunes I could tell he was a good keyboard player. He had a cool set up that included a Hammond B3 organ. The thing sounded great and looked to be pretty old. So Danny was seemed like a nice guy. He stood about 5 foot 4 and kind of had a serious look about him. His voice was a deep baritone.
Lots of people were taking turns jamming. Everybody was drinking and having a good time. When it was my turn I didn't try to grab the spot light. Danny was kind of directing traffic.
At one point I was up there with the whole old Chuck Clay band. Rob Murphy on bass, Jesse Jones on drums, Eric Pirtle on guitar, Danny and me. The rythym these guys laid down was incredible. Anyone who plays blues will tell you that a good rythym section make or breaks the front man. With these guys it was so easy to sound good. Toward the end, we kind of took it over and really had the audience with us. Every song ended with big smiles. People started dancing. I remembered just how much I enjoyed playing.
After time ran out I hung around a little while. Some people started complaining that they had spent so much money at the bar and the band didn't get paid. Back to reality. The manager took me off to the side and asked me if I wanted to play there again, without the band. That didn't make any sense so I just let it slide.
Pulling out of the gravel parking lot in my new Chuck Clay tee shirt I was enthused about playing again. They never called me back so I called them. To this day I still don't know much about Chuck Clay.
The marathon came and went in October. I was getting used to not playing.
The phone rang in February and it was Ben Wells. He said there was a band that needed a front man and they were getting together to have a jam. If I was interested I should call Danny and get the scoop. So I called him and got the time and place.
I was Mardi Gras time in St. Louis. The place for the jam wasn't near the Mardi Gras, but people were dressed up and celebrating anyway. I pulled up in the gravel parking lot to the bar and saw a hand written sign that said "Chuck Clay Tribute". It was an old place that overlooked the interstate. A real hoosier dump, so I felt right at home.
Inside there were a bunch of guys playing. The usual smoke and beer smell. I wasn't a huge group, maybe 25 people. They were there to honor the band's front man, Chuck Clay. Chuck had just died a few weeks earlier. I had never heard of him, but he had a long run playing on the local scene. His wife was Ingrid Berry, Chuck Berry's daughter. She wanted to be a singer and was supposedly pretty good, but kind of hard to work with. She wasn't there either, which I thought was odd.
So I laid back for a while and Danny finally introduced himself during a break. On just the first few tunes I could tell he was a good keyboard player. He had a cool set up that included a Hammond B3 organ. The thing sounded great and looked to be pretty old. So Danny was seemed like a nice guy. He stood about 5 foot 4 and kind of had a serious look about him. His voice was a deep baritone.
Lots of people were taking turns jamming. Everybody was drinking and having a good time. When it was my turn I didn't try to grab the spot light. Danny was kind of directing traffic.
At one point I was up there with the whole old Chuck Clay band. Rob Murphy on bass, Jesse Jones on drums, Eric Pirtle on guitar, Danny and me. The rythym these guys laid down was incredible. Anyone who plays blues will tell you that a good rythym section make or breaks the front man. With these guys it was so easy to sound good. Toward the end, we kind of took it over and really had the audience with us. Every song ended with big smiles. People started dancing. I remembered just how much I enjoyed playing.
After time ran out I hung around a little while. Some people started complaining that they had spent so much money at the bar and the band didn't get paid. Back to reality. The manager took me off to the side and asked me if I wanted to play there again, without the band. That didn't make any sense so I just let it slide.
Pulling out of the gravel parking lot in my new Chuck Clay tee shirt I was enthused about playing again. They never called me back so I called them. To this day I still don't know much about Chuck Clay.
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