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The Buddy Holly crash-site memorial |
The Winter Dance Party of
1959 is best known for the tragic plane crash and deaths of three popular rock
& roll musicians, Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper. Don McLean’s
famous 1971 song, American Pie, immortalized the tragedy as “the day the
music died”.
Rock & roll music took
off in 1956 when Elvis had a string of hits and influenced just about every rock
& roll artist who came after him. The major pioneers of Rock were Elvis,
Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly. But by the end of
1959, all of these musicians would be gone from the music scene.
The Winter Dance Party
tour began on January 23rd in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. These concerts lasted a
total of 24 days, crisscrossing six mid-western states in the dead of winter--Wisconsin,
Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, Ohio and Kentucky. The musical acts were Buddy
Holly, Dion and the Belmonts, Richie Valens, the Big Bopper and Frankie Sardo.
Buddy Holly was the most
famous of the tour group musicians, already having a string of hits. His first
hit single with The Crickets was That’ll Be the Day in February 1957, others
being, Every Day, Not Fade Away, Peggy Sue, Maybe Baby, Oh Boy and Rave On.
Dion and the Belmonts was
a quartet from the Bronx, a white Doowop group with three songs on the
Billboard top 100, I Wonder Why, No One Knows and Don’t Pity Me.
They were on American Bandstand in early 1958 and after that appearance their
records began to get national airplay. Their first major tour was in late 1958
with The Coasters, Buddy Holly and the Crickets, and Bobby Darin. But their
most famous songs, A Teenager in Love and Where or When, didn’t
come out until after the Winter Dance Party. In the early 1960s, Dion would go
on to become one of the most popular recording artists of the time with hits
like Run around Sue, The Wanderer and Ruby Baby.
Richie Valens at 17 was a
performer on the rise. He had three hit songs on the charts at the time of the
tour, Come on Let’s Go, Donna, and his biggest hit La Bamba, a
Mexican folk song that Valens sang in a rock & roll style. La Bamba
is on Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the 500 greatest songs of all time.
The Big Bopper (JP
Richardson) was a popular DJ from Beaumont, Texas. He was also a musician and song
writer. He wrote the song White Lightning for George Jones which became
Jones’ first number one hit on the country charts. He also wrote Running
Bear for Johnny Preston, which became a hit after Richardson’s death in the
plane crash. Richardson recorded Chantilly Lace for Mercury records and
followed it with Big Bopper’s Wedding. Both songs were still actively
playing on the radio at the time of his death.
Frankie Sardo was from
Brooklyn and had a regional hit with Fake Out. He was not nationally
known and was the opening act of the Winter Dance Party concerts.
Buddy’s original band,
The Crickets, were not part of the tour. In 1958 Buddy moved to New York City
and met Maria Elaina, the secretary for Southern Publishing. They fell in love
and on August 15, 1958, Buddy took Maria back to Lubbock to get married in a
private ceremony. Separating from his manager and the Crickets, Buddy and Maria
returned to New York city and moved into an apartment in Greenwich Village. Maria
was pregnant at the time.
Buddy recruited a new
back-up group, which would also be the back-up band for the other musicians on
the Winter Dance Party tour--Carl Bunch on drums, Tommy Alsup on guitar and
Waylon Jennings on bass.
Waylon was from
Littlefield, Texas, a small town 36 miles northwest of Lubbock, Buddy’s
hometown. The two met in 1958 in a restaurant in Lubbock and became friends. At
the time Waylon was working as a DJ and performer at KDAV, a local radio
station. Buddy was already an established recording artist and produced
Waylon’s first record, Jole Blon.
In 1956-57 Buddy and
Jerry Allison were a country singing duo that played at the Lubbock, Texas
Youth Center and shared bills with well-known artists that passed through the
area. At one concert they were the opening act for Elvis, who was not yet
nationally known. According to Allison, before that concert they were country
musicians, but seeing Elvis changed everything. They became enthusiastic converts
to this new style of music, rock & roll, and “Buddy began writing songs
with a new intensity”.
In March of 1958, Buddy
Holly and the Crickets did a month long tour in England and was a major influence
on the early rock & roll scene there. The Crickets’ records in the UK sold
faster than the record company could produce them. Young John Lennon and George Harrison, in
part, learned to play guitar by listening to the Crickets’ records and Lennon
wore Buddy’s style of glasses for a while. The Quarrymen changed their name to
the Beatles, inspired by Holly’s band the Crickets, and The Rolling Stones’
first hit song in the U.S. was a cover of Holly’s Not Fade Away.
In January and February
of 1959, the Midwest was extremely cold. The musicians traveled from one venue
to another in reconditioned school buses with faulty heaters. They had no
“Roadies”, so the musicians had to heft their own equipment. Sometimes there were
as many as 300-400 miles between shows and the temperatures were below freezing.
The 9th
concert was at the National Guard Armory in Duluth, Minnesota on January 31st,
three days before the fatal crash. A sixteen-year-old Robert Zimmerman, from
Hibbing, Minnesota, who later changed his name to Bob Dylan, was in the
audience, right up in front of the stage. In his Nobel Prize lecture, Dylan
writes about seeing Holly perform:
“From the moment I first heard him, I felt
akin. Buddy played the music I loved. He was the Archetype, everything that I
wasn’t and wanted to be. I saw him only but once and that was a few days before
he was gone. If I had to go back to the dawning of it all, I guess I’d have to
start with Buddy Holly. I had to travel a hundred miles to see him play and I
wasn’t disappointed. He was powerful and electrifying and had a commanding
presence. I was only six feet away. He was mesmerizing. I watched his face, his
hands, the way he tapped his foot, his big black glasses, the way he held his
guitar, the way he stood, his neat suit, everything about him. Then out of the
blue, the most uncanny thing happened. He looked me straight, dead in the eye
and he transmitted something. I didn’t know what, and it gave me the chills.”
Two shows were scheduled
for February 1st in Appleton Wis. 336.5 miles from Duluth. With over
200 miles to go, one of the buses broke down outside of Hurley, Wis. It was 20 below zero. The matinee had to be
cancelled. Carl Bunch, the drummer, got frostbitten feet and was sent off to a
hospital. Another bus came and picked up the musicians and took them the rest
of the way. With Carl gone, Buddy, Richie Valens and Dion took turns playing
drums for the concerts in Green Bay and Clear Lake.
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Surf Ballroom, Clear Lake, Iowa |
The Surf Ballroom in
Clear Lake, Iowa was the 11th concert on February 2nd. It was originally built in 1933, a wooden framed building on
Witke’s beach on Clear Lake. Carl Fox wanted to create a ballroom that
resembled an ocean beach club. He furnished it with bamboo and rattan
furniture, murals of the ocean surf and pictures of palm trees on the walls. It was a venue
for dancing to the big bands of the 30s and 40s. It attracted the popular
orchestras of the time such as: Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Glen Miller, Stan
Kenton and Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey. In 1947, the building burned down and was
rebuilt in 1948 across the street. In 2009 the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame
designated the ballroom as an historical landmark and in 2011 it was added to
the National Register of Historic Places.
People who were
interviewed after the Winter Dance Party, Clear Lake concert said they saw no
signs that any of the musicians were suffering from the cold and poor traveling
conditions. They all said they had a great time and enjoyed the music.
The next concert was at
the Armory in Moorhead, Minn. just across the river from Fargo, North Dakota. Frustrated
with the long, cold uncomfortable traveling conditions, Buddy chartered a plane
for Waylon, Tommy and himself, to fly from Clear Lake to Fargo, North Dakota.
After the Clear Lake concert, Carol Anderson, the Surf Ballroom manager, drove
the three musicians to the Mason City Municipal Airport. The flight cost $36
per person.
The single engine
Beechcraft Bonanza had room for only three passengers. JP Richardson (the Big
Bopper) was fighting a bad cold, so Waylon gave him his seat. Richie Valens had
a fear of flying, but did not want to spend another night riding on the cold
uncomfortable bus, so he asked Tommy for his seat. Bob Hale, a local DJ and the
MC for the concert, flipped a coin and Tommy lost, so Richie got the remaining
seat. It was reported that after the coin toss Valens said, “That’s the first
time I’ve ever won anything in my life”.
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1947 Beechcraft Bonanza at the Mason City, Iowa Airport |
Some of the fans were on
the tarmac to see their heroes off. The three musicians boarded the plane at
12:30am on February 3rd. As they were boarding, Holly jokingly said
to Waylon, “Well I hope your damn bus freezes up.” And Waylon replied, “Well I
hope your ol plane crashes.” Years later Waylon said in an interview that he
felt guilty all of his life for saying that to his good friend Buddy.
The pilot, 21-year-old Roger
Peterson, flew for Dwyer Flying Service. He had just over four years of flying
experience with 128 flight hours in Bonanzas and 52 hours of instrument flight
training. He had passed the written test, but was not certified to fly by
instruments only. His training was on a conventional artificial Horizon
instrument that displayed the sky on top and ground on the bottom. But the
plane he flew that night had a Sperry F-3 altitude gyroscope that had the
ground on top and the sky on the bottom.
That night there was low
cloud cover with no visible horizon. Peterson had not heard about a blizzard
warning. They took off and must have flown right into it. Being a rural area,
there were no ground lights to visually orient the young pilot. The plane
crashed in a cornfield five miles after take-off. It hit the ground going 170
miles per hour. The right wing-tip gouged the frozen ground for 57 feet before
the plane spun into a cartwheel for 540 feet and finally stopped, resting
against a barbed wire fence.
Because of the blizzard, they
did not discover the wreckage until the morning. The bodies of the three
musicians had been ejected from the plane and lay all night in the open field,
not far from the wreckage. Peterson’s body was entangled in the crumpled plane
and had to be removed with blow torches. The civil aeronautics investigator
concluded that the probable cause of the accident was “the pilot’s unwise
decision to attempt a flight at night that required skills he did not
have”. Holly was 22, Valens was 17 and the
Big Bopper was 28.
Holly’s mother heard
about her son’s death over the radio. Maria Elaina learned of her husband’s
death by a television report. After only six months of marriage, she instantly became
a widow. Shortly thereafter, she miscarried and lost their baby. In the months
following the crash, authorities adopted the policy of not releasing the names
of crash victims until the family members have been notified. The public did
not find out about the marriage and Maria’s pregnancy until after Buddy’s
death. One more song made the charts after Holly’s death, It Doesn’t Matter
Anymore. It shot up to number 13 on the charts. The music industry had
discovered that after an artist’s death, there was great opportunity for record
sales.
Buddy Holly’s career
lasted just a year and a half and he had only one number one hit, That’ll Be
the Day. But his influence on popular music was immense. Buddy and his band
The Crickets, set the standard for rock & roll bands. They were a
self-contained band with two guitars, bass and drums and would become
the blue print for later bands. Buddy wrote and produced all of his songs,
which was unheard of at the time.
The Winter Dance Party
continued after the crash. There were 13 more concerts scheduled after Clear
Lake and the main three acts were gone. For the next show in Moorhead, Minnesota,
fifteen-year-old Bobby Vee filled in for Buddy and Waylan filled in for Buddy
for the rest of the tour. Some of the other performers to fill in for the
remainder of the tour were, Jimmy Clanton, Fabian and Frankie Avalon. These
handsome young singers were more in line with the crooners of the previous
generation. As the decade changed, the airways of the early 60s would be taken
over by theirs and others’ soft pop rock music. The raw creative force of early
rock & roll did seem to have died out.
Don McLean was a thirteen-year-old
paperboy in New York City in the winter of 1959. On the morning after the crash, he cut
open a bundle of papers and read the front page headlines, “Iowa Air Crash
kills 3 Singers”. In 1971 he wrote the song American Pie.
“But February made me
shiver, with every paper I’d deliver, bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take
one more step, I can’t remember if I cried, when I read about his widowed
bride, but something touched me deep inside, the day the music died.”

Frank Sinatra is buried
not far from the Twin Palms home that he occupied from 1947 to 1957. He lived
there with his first wife Nancy and their three kids, and then with Ava
Gardener after he and Nancy divorced. Katie and I drove by the house and peeked
at the grounds from outside the gate, and then went over to the Desert
Memorial Park cemetery to have a look at Frank’s grave.
According to Tony Oppedisano, author of “Sinatra and Me, In the Wee Small Hours”, Frank wanted his grave to be easily accessible to his fans. We found it not far off the main cemetery road just across from the office. It was a flat marble slab with the name Francis Albert Sinatra and below it, “Sleep Warm, Poppa, 1913-1998”. One single flower drooped in front.
But this
was not the gravestone that I expected. Every picture
of his grave that I saw on-line had “The Best Is Yet to Come” and “Beloved
Husband and Father” under his name. It looked like it had been recently
changed, but why?
I found an article by
David Lansing in the online magazine “Palm Springs Life”. He too wanted to know why the gravestone was
switched. When Lansing asked the manager of the cemetery, she said she knew
what happened, but didn’t want to tell him. He asked why and she said she didn’t want to get “in the middle of
it” and suggested he ask Frank’s daughters or the police.
Lansing next requested the
records from the police department, but when he got the records back, everything
having to do with the incident had been redacted. Frustrated, Lansing asked his
editor to formally request the records from the Palms Springs Public Records
Department. He wanted two questions answered, who authorized the headstone
change and when did it happen? The editor received a letter back that
basically said they have the record but are not going to release it because
“the public interest served by not releasing the record clearly outweighs the
disclosure of the requested record.”
Lansing attempted to contact
Frank’s daughters, but got no reply, so he tried contacting his granddaughters.
One declined his request and the others didn’t respond. No one wanted to talk
about it “…not the cemetery, not the police, not Frank’s daughters, not his
granddaughters.”
Then out of the blue, Lansing
was contacted by a person who was “connected to the Sinatra family for over 45
years”. All this person would say was that someone took a hammer to the gravestone and tried to chip out “Husband”. Because of the damage, the gravestone
had to be replaced and “The best is yet to come” was changed to “Sleep warm
poppa”, which didn't seem appropriate for someone who was dead and buried in the cold ground. But then "The Best is yet to Come" didn't seem all that appropriate either.
In the article, Lansing
talks about the animosity between Frank’s wife Barbara and his two daughters,
Nancy and Tina. He gives several examples of the problems they had with each other.
Lansing draws on information from Tina’s book about her dad. In the book Tina says that
Frank used to always carry a roll of dimes in his pocket “so he’d never be
caught short at a pay phone.” Before Frank was buried, Tina slipped a roll of
dimes into his pocket with a note that said, “Sleep warm Poppa-look for me.”
Not only did Frank enter
eternity with dimes for a pay phone and a note from his daughter, but also
someone slipped a full bottle of Jack Daniels and a pack of Camel cigarettes into
the coffin as well. Frank was buried like King Tut, having everything he needed
for the afterlife.
Lansing quotes Tina from
the book, “While I missed my father desperately in those months, I could hear
him saying: Don’t despair honey, don’t despair. I could also hear him saying:
Don’t get mad, get even.” And that’s where Lansing left it. So, it’s still unclear
what actually happened, and I guess it will remain a closely guarded Palm Springs
secret.
Frank was one of the most
popular entertainers in the world. He had fame, fortune, many loves and a
career doing what he loved to do. As I stood over his grave in the intense summer sun, the cemetery seemed eerily quiet. No one was around except for a few workers in the distance tending the grounds. The lonely, wilted flower next to the grave, made me think how fleeting
and impermanent this life is.

Near the end of June Katie
and I drove north to get away from the Arizona heat and to visit family and friends in Washington state. We take our time on these trips and stop
along the way to view local sights or hike in beautiful areas. Besides, our
aging bodies demand that we get out of the car and move around at regular intervals.
Our first night’s stop
was Palm Springs. For years I’ve been interested in the history of Palm Springs
as Hollywood’s favorite get-away destination and playground. This exodus of the
rich and famous to the desert began in the 1930s, a time when gossip columnists
like Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper could derail an actor’s career by
revealing details of their personal lives. The newspapers of the time paid
travel expenses for columnists for up to 100 miles and Palm Springs was just
over the limit. Famous people wanting to get out of the limelight could drive
to Palm Springs from LA in just a couple of hours and be out of the paparazzi’s
reach.
Before leaving on our
trip, I had just finished reading the book, “Sinatra and Me, In the Wee Small
Hours”, by Tony Oppedisano. I was a total rock & roll fan growing up in the
Midwest in the 50s and 60s but later in life my taste in music expanded and I
became a Sinatra fan. Tony O’s book is not so much a biography of Frank but a
memoir of Tony’s experiences and close friendship with him.
Tony O was a singer and
musician and performed periodically at Jilly’s night club in Manhattan where
many of the rich and famous hung out, including Frank. One night in December
1972, Frank came into Jilly’s and Jilly introduced him to Tony. They became friends right away. At the time
Tony was just 21 years old.
Jilly was Frank’s
confidant for about 40 years, accompanying him on tours. “He was there for
Frank for anything he needed”. In 1992 on his 75th birthday, Jilly
was broadsided by a drunk driver and died. Frank was devastated. Jilly’s death
left a big hole in his life. Tony worked his way into filling that hole,
becoming Frank’s “road manager” and confidant.
Frank was the most
popular entertainer of his generation. Before Taylor Swift, Michael Jackson, the
Beatles and Elvis, in the 1940s, Frank had legions of girls screaming at his
concerts. These young women were called “Bobby Soxers” by the media, because of
the way they dressed--loose skirts, ankle socks and black and white saddle
shoes. At the time this was a rebellious way to dress. The Bobby Soxers’ music
was jazz and swing and their favorite singer was Frank.
In 1952 Sinatra's career
tanked and Columbia records dropped him. But he revived his career in 1953, after making the movie
“From Here to Eternity” and subsequently winning the Academy Award and signing with Capitol records. He began recording with Nelson Riddle and he and Riddle
had a great working relationship. Together they produced many of Sinatra’s most
popular recordings. It was this era of Frank’s music that turned me into a fan.
According to Tony O,
Frank felt most at home in the southwest desert. I could identify with that
feeling. In 1947 Frank had a house built in Palm Springs as a get-away for his
young family. He had just earned his first million and signed a movie contract
with MGM. He originally wanted architect E. Stewart Williams to build him a
Georgian style house with brick façade and columns. Williams and his business partner brother thought this was just wrong for the desert and suggested a
design more in harmony with the desert environment. They showed Frank plans for
a “Desert Modern House”, a mid-century modern design. He liked it, and so they
started work on what is now called Sinatra’s “Twin Palms House”.
Frank, his wife Nancy, and
their two children, Frank Jr. and Nancy "Jr." occupied the house just prior to the
Christmas holiday in 1947. In 1948 their daughter Tina was born, but later that
same year Nancy and the kids moved out because of Frank’s affair with Ava Gardner.
Frank and Ava married in 1951 and she moved into Twin Palms with him. It was
quite a volatile marriage and ended in divorce in 1957. Frank sold the house
and bought another property up on a hill subsequently called "the Rancho Mirage compound". It became his home base until he and
his 4th wife Babara sold it in 1995. He was briefly married to Mia
Farrow, his 3rd wife, sometime in the 1970s.
Twin Palms was not far
from our hotel, so Katie and I drove by to have a look. It was in the
middle of a sprawling, upscale suburban neighborhood. We couldn’t see past the front wall, so we went around to the back and peeked through the gate. There are plenty of photos online of both the outside and inside of the house which can be rented through Luxury
Vacation Rentals, with emphasis on "luxury". Katie and I will not be staying there any time soon.
When Sinatra occupied Twin Palms there were no surrounding houses. The views of the mountains in the background are spectacular. I could imagine the peace he found that Tony O describes, sitting by the pool on still, warm nights, drinking Jack Daniels and smoking Camel cigarettes. It was definitely a different era.

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Mr. Peabody instructs Sherman to set the Wayback machine to the year 1955 |
While driving through Kingman, Arizona, on our way back to Washington state, Katie and I noticed the street we were on was Andy Devine Avenue. Andy Devine was a character actor in movies and television shows and died in 1977. When I looked him up online, I found out that he was born in Flagstaff, and grew up in Kingman. He is the town's favorite native son. In the Mohave Museum in Kingman, there is a whole room devoted to his life and career. Devine started his career on the radio in the 1930s, then transitioned into movies and television, acting in over 400 films, mostly Westerns. He played Roy Rogers' sidekick, Cookie, in ten films and was in several John Wayne movies. But I mostly remember him from Saturday morning television. "The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickock" ran from 1951-1958. Devine played Jingles, Wild Bill's sidekick. In the opening of every show, Wild Bill, played by Guy Madison, is galloping on his horse, shooting his pistol at who knows what, and Jingles is pulling up the rear, trying to keep his hat from blowing off. Jingles yells in his unforgettable high raspy voice, "Hey Wild Bill, wait for me," as if Wild Bill would slow down and let the bad guys get away just so Jingles could catch up.
"Andy's Gang", or "The Andy Devine Show" ran from 1955-1960. Andy took over the show that was originally called, "Smilin' Ed McConnell and his Buster Brown Gang". It was first on the radio and then became a television show. In 1954, Smilin' Ed suddenly died of a heart attack. This popular children's show needed a replacement and Andy took over in 1955. Buster Brown Shoes continued to sponsor the show. Buster Brown was a comic book character created in 1902 and adopted by the Brown Shoe Company as its mascot in 1904, along with his creepy looking dog Tige. Buster was an effeminate looking boy in a weird costume.
Andy inherited many of the same characters from Smilin' Ed's show; Midnight the cat, Squeaky the mouse, Grandie the talking piano and everybody's favorite, Froggy the Gremlin.

When Andy said, "Pluck your magic twanger Froggy," in a puff of smoke, Froggy would appear on top of the old clock and say in a low voice, "Hiya kids, hiya, hiya, hiya," and the kids in the audience would go wild. There were no actual kids in the audience, but like "canned laughter", clips of the audience laughing were cut in where appropriate. Froggy appeared in skits with a teacher or a French baker, who would be instructing the audience on how to do something. In the middle of his instruction, Froggy would rudely interrupt, and the instructor would become flustered. In one skit I remember, the baker was teaching us how to make a cream pie. When the baker said what he was going to do next, Froggy interrupted saying, "and you put it on your head." and the befuddled baker put the pie on his head, and it dripped down all over his face. I thought this was hilarious. But the best part of the show were the stories about an East Indian boy. Andy would pick up his big Story Book, sit down in an overstuffed chair and begin reading. As his voice faded out, a film began running with the latest adventure of Gunga Ram and his best friend Rama. The boys' job was tending the elephants used in a Teak lumber company. They also helped the Maharajah when he got into some sort of jam. I felt as though I was transported to an exotic land and envied the boys riding around on elephants and having adventures in a land filled with wild animals like tigers, pythons and monkeys. Frank Ferrin produced both Andy's Gang and a movie called "Sabaka" which was filmed partially in India and partially in LA. What we saw on Andy's Gang were clips taken from the movie and developed into their own mini stories for the show. Gunga Ram was played by an Italian actor named Nino Marcel. At the time I watched it, I wouldn't have cared about any of this motion picture gimmickry, historical inaccuracy or inauthenticity. I thought the show was great.

The St. Louis area spawned many famous musicians, most
notably Chuck Berry, Ike and Tina Turner and more recently Michael McDonald,
who graduated from McClure High School, in Florissant, Mo. I had already
graduated from McClure before he entered high school, so I'm sorry to say, I didn't know him.
In North St. Louis in the mid '60s the local band that made the big-time was
Bob Kuban and the In-Men. If you've heard of them, you are either familiar with
the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's one hit wonder list or you’re from the St.
Louis area or you have an incredible amount of rock and roll trivia rambling
around in your brain. I'm guilty of all three.
Bob Kuban was the drummer and band leader of the In-Men. On
Friday nights during the summer, his band would play at Jackson Park, a
relatively small park in Berkeley, a north St. Louis suburb. Jackson Park
hosted a variety of local bands during the hot St. Louis summer nights. In the
summers of 1964 and 1965, my friends and I would go back and forth between
Jackson Park and the local YMCA where there was usually a band playing as well.
But when Bob Kuban and the In-Men were playing at Jackson Park, we tried not to
miss it. It was a first-rate band.
The Beatles and the British bands were taking over America
at that time and they were the major influence on popular music. Bob Kuban's
band was not your typical band of the era. It had more in common with the earlier
rhythm and blues bands of Ike Turner, Wilson Picket and James Brown. In an
interview, Kuban states that Ike Turner was a big influence on him and his
formation of the band. As a footnote, in 1951 before Tina joined him, Ike
Turner's band was called The Kings of Rhythm. They recorded a song called
Rocket 88 which some believe was the very first rock and roll song.

Bob Kuban had an eight-piece band with horns, drums and
keyboard, which was played by Greg Hoeltzel, who lived in my neighborhood. The
lead singer was Walter Scott, who had a great voice for that style of music.
During those two summers we listened to our local band, knowing they were a cut
above the other local groups, playing in their unique St. Louis style. This was
several years before Chicago, originally called (Chicago Transit Authority) and
Blood Sweat and Tears would bring the big band sound back to popular music. In
1966 Bob Kuban and the In-Men hit it big with The Cheater. The song was
all over the radio for months. That year we watched our local guys on national
TV, but their run was short lived. They had only a few other songs that got
national play, Teaser, and a cover of a Beatles song Drive My Car.
I also remember hearing a song called Jerkin' Time and the Bat Man
Theme on the radio as well, but they may have just been popular locally.
Walter Scott left the band shortly after The Cheater's
popularity to pursue a solo career. He never had another hit song, but in his repertoire,
he sang (Look out for The Cheater) over and over again in a variety of
performance venues. In 1983, when Bob Kuban was trying to get the original band
back together for a reunion concert, he discovered that Walter Scott was
missing. Scott was found 4 years later floating face down in a cistern with his
ankles, knees and wrists bound. He had been shot through the heart from the
back. In one of life's ironic turns, it was discovered that his murderers were
his “cheater” wife and her "cheater" boyfriend. There was a Forensic
Files TV show about it, as well as a book written titled The Cheaters: The
Walter Scott Murder by Scottie Piesmeyer.
I don’t know if Bob Kuban still has his band. He would be in his 80s today. I read that not too long ago, the Bob Kuban Brass played
a summer evening gig at Jackson Park and invited all the fans to come out for
old time's sake. I would have liked to have been there. I live out west and haven't been back to St. Louis since 2002. But I still have memories
of those hot summer evenings in the '60s at Jackson Park, listening to our
local band that made the big-time.
Here's a link to The Cheater
(131) The Cheater (Remastered) - YouTube

In 1957 Barry Gordy went to an audition with Jackie Wilson’s
manager to hear a local group called the Matadors. Their lead singer was a
17-year-old Smokey Robinson. At the time, Gordy was writing and producing songs
in Detroit for artists on a variety of record labels, most famously Wilson’s hit
song Lonely Teardrops. Wilson’s manager declined to sign the Matadors,
but Gordy saw potential in the young singer and his group. Gordy discovered
that Smokey already had hundreds of songs written in a notebook and Gordy
helped him craft the best ones. Gordy wanted to start his own independent music
label and Smokey had the passion and creative talent to help make it happen. So,
Gordy made Smokey his vice president and together they formed Motown records. They
bought a photographic studio in Detroit and converted the downstairs into a
recording studio and business office. Gordy lived upstairs. He called the
house, Hitsville USA and that’s exactly what came out of it, hit after hit.
In
1960 they had their first million selling record, Shop Around written by
Smokey and performed by “Smokey (Bill) Robinson and the Miracles”(changed from
Matadors). Between 1961 and 1971, Motown had 110 top ten hits from their all-black artists, which included: the Miracles, the Marvelettes(who had Motown’s
first #1 hit on the pop charts with Please Mr. Postman), the Supremes,
the Four Tops, the Jackson 5, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, the Temptations, and
Martha and the Vandellas.

 |
View from our patio |
Katie and I moved back to Arizona, but this time as
snowbirds, splitting our time between Washington and Green Valley. We were in
our sixties when we lived here before and the folks of the WWII Generation were
the elders in this community of people 55 years and up. The youngest of that
generation would now be 97 years old, so there are not many left, and those who
are, don’t get out a lot. The Silent Generation, those people born between 1928
and 1945, was the dominant group, while Baby Boomers, born from 1946 to 1964,
were the youngsters.
Now Boomers are the dominant group, the youngest is 59 and
the oldest 77. The evidence of this Boomer take-over is everywhere. Walking the
desert trails, I’m occasionally flashed the two-finger peace sign by another walker.
It always takes me by surprise and I usually just give a normal wave. Many men
still display their “freak flags”, with tiny thin pony tails or facial hair.
The other day, I was standing in line at the grocery store and the elderly
woman in front of me had long straight white hair and was wearing a colorful
skirt down to her ankles. She reeked of patchouli oil, which transported me mentally
back to the Oregon Country Fair in the 70s, where the dominant smells were
patchouli and cannabis. We’ve attended three different music venues since we’ve
been here and all the music was 50s and early 60s rock & roll.
The youngest Boomers have more in common with Gen-Xers. They
were too young to remember Watergate and when the boys came of military age,
the draft had already ended, so, unless they lost a loved one, the Vietnam War had
little impact on their lives. The oldest Gen-Xer would be 58 and they are
beginning to show up here as well. I see them holding hands, walking with a
spring in their step, newly retired, hopeful, bright-eyed and bushytailed.
The Silent Generation(SG), also referred to as
Traditionalists, are the elders now. They were children during the Great Depression
and the end of WWII. Couples during this time were not having a lot of babies,
so they are a comparatively small generation. As children they were strictly managed by
their parents (seen but not heard) as opposed to the later more promiscuous Boomers
and Gen-X children. Radio was their dominant form of entertainment. Women
entered the workforce in record numbers and unions became strong and dominant
in the work place. SGs inherited the values of their parents-- conformity, hard
work, religiosity and early marriage. But times were changing and for the first
time in American history, divorce became legal and more culturally accepted, so
this generation has the highest divorce rate in US history. Communism was on
the rise in the world and Joseph McCarthy attempted to root out communist
leaning individuals in all walks of life. SGs made up the majority of soldiers
in the Korean War. Because of these national events, this generation is
described as being conservative and cautious.
And yet, this cautious and conservative generation had a
rebellious undercurrent that erupted in the 1950s. In the 1953 movie “The Wild One”, Marlon
Brando’s character, the biker gang leader, was asked by another character, “Hey
Johnny, what are you rebelling against?”, and he replied “What have you got?”. The
1955 movie “Rebel Without a Cause”, starring James Dean, captured the
alienation, angst and confusion felt by teenage SGs. From this generation sprung
the civil rights movement, which later morphed into the 60s peace movement and protests
against the Vietnam War. Martin Luther King and John Lewis were SGs. The Beatniks
were a 50s phenomenon, a counter-culture movement whose expression was seen in
literature, art and music. They laid the foundation for the Hippies of the 60s.
The “Beat Generation” or “Beatniks” were anti-establishment
and anti-materialism. Their music was jazz by musicians like Charlie Parker,
Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis and their writers were Jack Kerouac, Allen
Ginsberg, William Burroughs and Gary Snyder among others. They embraced eastern
philosophy and adopted the lifestyle of the “Lost Generation” writers and
French existentialists of the 20s. Some dressed in black tight outfits, horned
rimmed glasses and berets and they gathered in coffee houses and listened to
poetry readings or acoustic music with accompanying bongos. My introduction to Beatniks as a child was the
Maynard G. Krebs character on the TV show “The Many Lives of Dobie Gillis”,
played by Bob Denver. Later I read Kerouac’s book “On the Road”. In Greenwich
Village, the coffee house scene transformed in the early 60s into the folk
revival movement of Silent Generation musicians like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Judy
Collins, Phil Ochs, Tom Paxton, Eric Andersen, Tom Rush, Tim Harden, and
Leonard Cohen as well as John Sebastian(The Lovin Spoonful), Roger Mcguinn(The
Byrds) and Cass Elliot(Mamas and the Papas).
Ken Kesey, an SG, was a direct bridge
between the Beatniks and the Hippies. In 1964, he and the Merry Pranksters
drove a psychedelically painted 1939 International Harvester school bus they
named “Further”, across the country, smoking marijuana and dropping LSD. They
stopped in small towns and visited with (or more like intimidated) the locals
along the way. Neal Cassady, who Kerouac’s side kick character was based on in
“On the Road”, was one of the Merry Pranksters. The “trip” was immortalized in
Tom Wolf’s book “The Electric Cool-aid Acid Test”.
All the early rock & rollers were from the Silent
Generation, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, Carl Perkins, the
Everly Brothers, Buddy Holly, Bo Diddley, Ricky Nelson. All are dead now. Don
Everly just died in 2021.
I was surprised to learn that even the second wave of rock
& roll in the 60s was launched by a bunch of Silent Generation artists--the
Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Crosby,
Stills, Nash & Young, Jerry Garcia, Surf Music inventor Dick Dale, as well
as the Beach Boys(except the youngest of the Wilson brothers Carl was a Boomer)
and Jan and Dean.
Even though rock & roll was invented and carried on by
individuals of the Silent Generation, it was the Boomers who made up the
majority of the audience and claimed the music as their own. By the time of the
British invasion in 1964, most of the SGs were married and working at their
jobs, too busy to pay much attention to the music. But the hordes of Boomers
just coming of age, latched on to the music and it became the sound track of
our lives.

This drawing was inspired by the album art of Chrystal Russell
In the mid-1960s, I bought records by a few musicians as soon as their latest albums were released-The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, and The Lovin’ Spoonful. Unlike the other groups, The Lovin’ Spoonful’s popularity only lasted about two years, from 1965-67. They were a New York city folk/rock band, a musical genre that dominated the music scene in the late 60s and early 70s. The Byrds are widely credited with the invention of folk/rock, but one could argue that the Lovin’ Spoonful were equally instrumental in launching this new genre. The Byrds’ “Mr. Tambourine Man” (a Bob Dylan song that he gave them the OK to record) is thought to be the first folk/rock hit. It came out in April 1965. The Lovin’ Spoonful’s first hit song was “Do You believe in Magic” which was released in July. Even though the Byrds were from LA and the Lovin’ Spoonful from New York, both bands sprung from the early 60’s folk scene.
John Sebastian grew
up in Greenwich Village. His father was a professional concert harmonica player
and his mother, a radio script writer. His godmother was Vivian Vance (Ethel
Mertz on I Love Lucy), a close friend of John’s mother. His family
hosted many musicians at their home, Burl Ives, Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly,
Sonny Terry, and Lightening Hopkins. John got to know them and their music
intimately. I attended a John Sebastian concert in Tucson in the early 2000s.
John said Mississippi John Hurt stayed with his family when he was in New York
and John learned Mississippi’s finger picking style. He confessed and
demonstrated how the Lovin’ Spoonful song “Loving You” was a direct rip off of Hurt’s
musical style.
As part of the folk revival, John was in a group called
the Mugwumps along with Zal Yanovsky, Cass Elliot and Denny Doherty. In 1964,
they put out one album and two singles. When the group broke up, Cass and Denny
joined with John and Michelle Phillips to form the Mammas and Pappas and John
and Zal recruited bass player Steve Boone and drummer Joe Butler to form the
Loving Spoonful. The Mammas and Pappas 1967 hit song, “Creeque Alley”, tells
the story of the formation of the two bands.
After their first hit song, “Do You Believe in Magic”,
the Lovin’ Spoonful had a string of hits with “You Didn’t Have to be So Nice”,
“Day Dream”, “Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind”, “Summer in The City”,
Rain on the Roof”, “Younger Girl” and “Nashville Cats”. They had seven
consecutive top ten hits. John Sebastian was the main song writer and lead
singer. He often played the auto harp on their recordings and was/is an
excellent guitar and harmonica player. Even though the other members of the
group were good musicians, John was the dominant force behind the group.
The band was flying high throughout 1966. Joe Butler
was in the Broadway production of “Hair”. The group composed and performed the
music for Woody Allen’s film “What’s Up Tiger Lily?”. Sebastian composed the
music for Francis Ford Coppola’s second film, “You’re a Big Boy Now” with the
band performing all the instrumental background. And they scored another hit
song from the film, “Darling be Home Soon.” The producers that created the TV
show “The Monkeys” built the show around the Lovin’ Spoonful, but "dropped the band from the project due to conflicts over song publishing rights".
In May of 1967, Zal left the group
after getting busted for marijuana possession. He was a Canadian citizen and
the police pressured him to either give up the name of his drug supplier or be
deported. Zal was afraid he wouldn’t be allowed back into the U.S. so he
complied. After this incident, there was a counter-culture movement to boycott
all of the Lovin’ Spoonful’s records and performances. In an interview Zal said
he left the band because he didn’t like the direction John’s song writing was
taking it. Zal was replaced by Jerry Yester from the Modern Folk Quartet, but
the band was hurt by the drug controversy and only had a few minor hits after
that. In 1968 Sebastian left the group to pursue a solo career. I love his
first solo album titled “John B. Sebastian”.
I attended a benefit concert for fire
fighters at the Tacoma Dome in the 90’s. The bands included America and the Lovin’
Spoonful. America sounded great, with the two remaining members. The Lovin’
Spoonful consisted of Boone, Butler, Jerry Yester and his brother Jim. Joe
Butler sang all of John’s leads. The music sounded the same, but Butler was no
substitute for Sebastian on the lead vocals. In 2000, the original band got
back together for their induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.
In the summer of 1969, Sebastian
performed at Woodstock and some of it is captured in the “Woodstock” movie. In
an interview John said he was not scheduled to perform. He had hitched a ride
on a helicopter and attended the festival as a fan and to support his musician
friends. He didn’t even bring a guitar with him. After a fairly long bout of
rain, the crew needed to sweep down the stage to make it safe for the
electronic equipment. They needed someone who could fill in with just an
acoustic guitar, so John borrowed a guitar from his friend and fellow folk
singer, Tim Hardin, and performed a totally improvised acoustic set.

In talking about the performance, he
said it was a magical moment for him. He was wearing a self-tie-dyed outfit and
pretty high on pot. In the middle of the set, the clouds parted and the sun
came out. His solo career got a big boost from that performance. John had his
biggest solo hit, “Welcome Back” in 1976, the theme song to the television show
“Welcome Back Cotter”.
When we saw him perform in Seattle,
John still had his voice and put on a great show in the small club. I was
determined to speak to him. During the break he went to the bathroom and I
followed him. I didn’t want to be creepy, so I waited outside the door. When he
came out, I said, “John, thank you for your music.” He said, “You’re welcome.”
And that was the extent of it. He got back on stage and finished the show. When
we saw him in Tucson years later, he had all but lost his voice. He still put
on a good show, but his croaky voice did not work well singing the old
“Spoonful” songs but sounded appropriate for the early folk and blues songs.
The Lovin’ Spoonful was truly an
authentic American band that pioneered a genre of rock & roll that is still
popular to this day.

I was in middle school when early rock & roll all
but died out and “girl groups” began appearing over the radio airwaves. These
groups sprung out of the male dominated Doo-Wop era of the forties and fifties.
The “girl group” phenomenon lasted from about 1957 to 1966.The early groups
were mostly teenagers who sang together in school and church. “Mr. Lee”, by the
Bobbettes was the first song to make the pop charts. These five teenage
girls from East Harlem, originally called themselves the Harlem Queens.
They grew up in the projects and like the Doo-Wop groups before them, practiced
in the hallways and on the playground.
“Maybe”, by the Chantels, was the next song to
become a hit. It was a million seller in 1957 and re-released in 1969 after
Janis Joplin covered it. The Chantels were five high school girls, ages
14 to 17, who attended parochial school in the Bronx and sang together in the
school choir.

My favorite “girl group”, and the act that solidified
the “girl group” sound was the Shirelles, four teenagers from Passaic,
New Jersey. They began singing together at high school shows and parties, initially
calling themselves the Poquellos. They had a sweetness and innocence to
their sound, with back-ground harmonies like the earlier Doo-Wop groups. Their
first single “I Met Him on a Sunday” was a song they wrote themselves and sang
at school parties. Their second single, “Dedicated to the One I Love”, was a
cover of a 1957 “5 Royals” song. The Shirelles version was
released in 1959, but without a national distributer, only charted at #83 on
the Billboard Top 100. In 1961, after they had several hits, the song was
re-released and shot to #3. In 1967, the Mamas and the Papas covered the
song "Dedicated to the one I Love" which went to #2. This was the first song that Michelle Phillips sang lead
on instead of Cass Elliot.
“Tonight’s the Night”, the Shirelles next hit
single, was co-written by lead singer Shirley Owens. “Will You Love MeTomorrow” written by Carole King and her then husband Jerry Goffin was their first
#1 song and the first #1 by any “girl group”. Both of these songs would later make Rolling
Stone magazine’s list of the greatest hits of all time. “Mama Said” reached #4
and in early 1962 “Baby It’s You” (co-written by Burt Bacharach, Hal David and
Barney Williams) went to #8, It was recorded by the Beatles and put on
their first album “Please Please Me” along with another Shirelles’ song,
“Boys”, sung by Ringo. In 1969, a group called Smith had the biggest hit
with “Baby It’s You”, but I favor the Shirelles’ version. The Shirelles
second #1 hit, and their biggest selling single was “Soldier Boy”. Even though
they continued to record new material until the late sixties, the Shirelles’
last hit single was “Foolish Little Girl” in 1963, charting at # 4.
Following in the wake of the Shirelles, came a
host of other “girl groups” and 1963 was their most successful year. The Chiffons
had hits with, “He’s So Fine” and “One Fine Day”(another Carole King/Jerry
Goffin song), The Ronnettes (Phil
Spector’s Group) with “Be My Baby”, Martha and The Vandellas (a Motown act) had two
hits, “Heatwave” and “Come and Get These Memories”, the Chrystals with “DaDoo Run Run”, and the Angels had a hit with “My Boyfriend’s Back”.
The most popular “girl group” was the Supremes (another Motown act). In 1964 they had two hits, “Where did Our Love Go,” and “Baby Love”.
They went on to have 12 number one hits and for a time rivaled the Beatles
popularity.
But in 1964, after the Beatles came to America,
popular music became dominated by British groups, pushing out and replacing
many musical styles, including almost all of the “girl groups”.
Surf Rock
1 Feb 2022 10:19 AM (3 years ago)


When I was
in high school in Ferguson, Missouri in the early sixties, I dreamed of traveling
to California and living the lifestyle of a surfer. The southern California mystique was in the
minds and hearts of many young people at the time. Rock & roll had nearly
died in the early sixties. The hard-edged originality of early rockers, like
Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry and Little Richard was gone
and the airwaves were filled with clean cut white singers; (lots of Bobbys--Vinton,
Vee, Rydel) and Fabian, Shelly Fabre, Connie Francis etc. Most sang well, but it
was mainly sanitized pop music. Two major styles of music sprung out of the void,
Motown and Surf Music.
Surf Rock is
a southern California phenomenon integral to the surf culture of the early
sixties, originating mainly in Orange County. Dick Dale is credited as the
creator and pioneer. His family moved to
Orange County when he was a seventeen-year-old senior in high school. Dick
began surfing and wanted to play music that represented his experience. He was
influenced by the instrumental rock music of Duane Eddy, Link Wray and The
Venturers. He played a Fender Stratocaster electric guitar and worked with Leo
Fender to invent an amplifier that could increase the sound and get a reverb
effect that emulated the sound of the waves. This reverb, called the “wet sound”,
was built into the fenders amps. He also
made use of the vibrato arm of the guitar to bend the notes and he added
tremolo picking, rapid picking that became the signature sound of surf bands.

Dick Dale and the Deltones song Let’s Go Trippin’ is thought to be the
first Surf Rock song. The group introduced it in 1960 at a dance concert at the
Rendezvous Ballroom in Newport Beach on the Balboa peninsula. These concerts
became known as “Stomps” because the surfers who attended would stomp on the
floor in time with the music causing the old dance hall to shake. The dance,
“the surfer’s stomp” was born from this.
The Beach Boys were by far the most
popular surf rock band, even though the surfers at the time would not have
considered them to be authentic. Surf music was exclusively instrumental until
Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys borrowed the basic sound and added the rich
harmonies of the late fifties college circuit groups like the Four Freshman and
the Hi-Los. In 1961 the Beach Boys came
out with Surfin’, but probably the
first surfing song I heard in Missouri was Surfin’
Sufari, followed by Surfin’ USA
and Surfer Girl.
Surf music
splintered into two genres, instrumental surf rock and vocal surf pop. By 1963
both types of surf music were getting airplay across the country with hits
like, Pipeline by the Chantays, Wipeout by the Safaris, and Surf City (co-written by Brian
Wilson) by Jan & Dean. Many non-surfing musical groups jumped on the
bandwagon and surf music began to fill the airwaves.
During those
long, cold winter months in Missouri, intoxicating waves of surf music entered my
ears and washed over my brain. I could only dream of the surfing scene of
southern California, but it was a dream that enlightened my imagination and
warmed my soul.

Returning home to Washington from Arizona on highway
93, Katie and I had an experience where an everyday worker came to the rescue,
and became the “hero” of our story. We were on our way to Boise, Idaho after spending
the night in an RV park in Ely, Nevada. Highway 93 is a long desolate highway. You
have to make sure your gas tank is filled before starting out, because there
are stretches of over a hundred miles with no gas station in sight. In 2001 I
traveled this highway on a motorcycle, and had not calculated my gas correctly.
I coasted on empty into a farmer’s driveway and begged him for enough gas to
get me to Las Vegas. He was reluctant, but finally sold me some at an inflated
price.
This time we had plenty of gas in the RV to cross Great
Basin country. Each basin we entered was greater than the last, big open,
expansive areas with mountains off in the distance on all sides. There were few
cars or trucks on the highway, but about four hours into our trip, I noticed a
small brightly colored car approaching in my rear-view mirror. Quickly it grew
bigger and bigger and then blew by us, doing well over the speed limit. It was
a new, orange, Audi TT. I wished it would have been going slower, not because
of any danger factor, but because I wanted to look at the car. It looked really
cool.
I had plenty of time to admire the car just a few
minutes later. As we came over a rise, the TT was stopped, dead in the road and
a Nevada Sheriff’s car was right in front of it, parked sideways, blocking both
lanes. We slowed down and stopped behind the TT. The Sheriff must have just
gotten there. There seemed to be no reason why he was stopping traffic. We waited,
not knowing what was going on for quite a while. Finally, the deputy got out of
his car. I sarcastically commented to Katie that he probably had to finish his
coffee and donut first.
He was heavy-set and moved like a giant sloth. Opening
the trunk of his squad car, he took out a bright lime green work safety vest
and put it on. Then he took two stacks of orange cones out and began placing
them on the highway around his vehicle. Bubba, as we referred to him, was
straight out of casting for a Smokey and the Bandit movie. He never looked
over at us, even though we were just one small car away from him.
Cars and trucks began to stack up behind us and on the
other side, coming toward us. Still wondering what was going on, we suddenly
saw the top of a telephone pole across the road burst into flames. It continued
to burn, until the cross piece that held the wires toppled over and fell to the
ground next to the pole. The wires it was holding were attached to a pole on our
side of the road. So, when the cross piece fell, the wires lay strewn across
the highway. If Bubba hadn’t arrived, we would have driven by unknowingly and
without consequence. But somebody behind us or in front of us, would have plowed,
right into the live wires. I don’t understand how Bubba knew to arrive when he
did. He never acted like he was in a hurry or gave any indication of what was
going on. The cones he placed around his car, were in the exact right place
after the wires fell.
At least now we knew why we were stopped. A couple of
fire trucks and another Sheriffs’ car showed up. All of the first responders
got out of their vehicles and gathered in groups to talk. Nobody did anything
concerning the still burning telephone pole, or the wires lying across the
highway.
We waited for over an hour. Long lines of cars and
trucks now waited along with us. Then the cavalry arrived or I should say, one
utility truck. We watched as it drove along the line of cars and then went off
the road and over to the telephone pole on our side of the highway, not the one
that was on fire. Only one worker emerged from the vehicle. He put on a harness
and pulled out some tools from the truck. Katie and I were elated. We had just
driven over 4 hours and had been waiting an hour, while the firemen in full fire-fighting
gear chatted with the deputies. The utility worker didn’t chat with anyone. He
just methodically did what needed to be done.
We were happy to be waiting in our RV as opposed to a
car. We had a place to pee and plenty of snacks and drinks in the frig and
cupboards. As we watched the utility worker do his job, I plugged in my I-pod.
I had just the right song to play for the occasion, Wichita Lineman. I had three different versions. The most
popular by Glen Campbell, a cover by James Taylor and a version by Jimmy Webb,
who wrote the song. I chose Glen’s. What a great song.
We were traveling with our friends Nick and Suzanne.
They were in their own RV ahead of us and probably getting close to Boise by
now. They are dedicated Birders and have taught us to always have binoculars
handy. You never know when an interesting bird might show up. So, I was
watching Nevada lineman, through our binoculars. He climbed into his cherry
picker and maneuvered it up close to the wires. He put some sort of clip on
each wire, I assume to stop the electric flow. I noticed that he was a young
handsome guy with jet black hair and beard. I mentioned this to Katie and she
grabbed the binoculars and I had a tough time getting them back.
The lineman lowered himself back down, walked across
the street, cut the wires and pulled them off the road, one at a time. None of
the firemen or deputies helped or even spoke to him. When the last wire was
removed, Bubba sauntered back to his car in front of the TT, removed his vest,
folded it and placed it in the trunk. He ambled around, picking up each cone,
stacked them, and put them back in the trunk. The Nevada lineman was putting
his tools away. Just when I was getting ready to play Working Class Hero
by John Lennon, Bubba pulled his car to the side of the road and began waving the
cars through.
The TT took off like a shot. As we started up, Katie
told me to honk the horn to thank the lineman, whose back was toward us. I
honked and he turned around and gave us a wave in reply. He truly was the hero.
It was after dark when we finally pulled into the RV
resort in Boise.

My 17-year-old grandson
recently told me he was getting into early 70s music. He sent me his playlist
of fifteen songs, which included songs by America, Crosby, Stills & Nash,
Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon, the Grateful Dead, and Carole King. He asked if I could recommend any songs,
artists or albums. It was a baby boomer grandfather’s dream question. He had
discovered the “Folk/Rock-Singer/Songwriter” era.
Folk/Rock was the background
music of the “Hippie” era. Lasting about ten years, from 1965 to 1975, it was
formed out of two main musical movements, the Folk Revival music of the late 50s
and early 60s, and the British Invasion. In this new evolving genre, song lyrics
became more topical and personal. The protest songs of the civil rights
movement morphed into anti-Vietnam war songs. Electric guitars of rock & roll
joined the acoustic instruments of folk music with a drum backbeat and two or more
harmony singers. The musicians dressed in street clothes and didn’t try to be
dancers or showmen. Folk/rock was all about the music.
The leading edge of the
baby boom generation grew up listening to rock & roll. But in 1959, it
almost completely died out. The hard-edged rock & roll of Elvis, Little
Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis and Buddy Holly was replaced with cleaned-up pop
versions, by the likes of Pat Boone, Fabian, Bobby Rydell, Bobby Vinton Frankie
Avalon and many more. In January 1964, when the early boomers were in high
school or college, the Beatles released their first US single, “I Want to Hold Your
Hand”. In February they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show and after that, the
floodgates opened for the “British Invasion”. The British groups loved American
rock & roll and rhythm and blues. They brought the raw energy of early rock
& roll back to us, reinterpreted. For the next three years, British rock
& roll dominated the American radio airways.
Music historians credit
the birth of folk/rock to the Los Angeles group, the Byrds. The group was
hailed as the American answer to the British invasion. Roger McGuinn, co-founder
of the Byrds, was already an accomplished folk musician by the time he met Gene
Clark and David Crosby at the Troubadour in LA and formed the Byrds.
Roger grew up in Chicago.
In an interview, he said that when he heard Elvis singing “Heartbreak Hotel” on
the radio, he knew what he wanted to do. He got a guitar and practiced diligently.
He loved the folk music of the time and in 1957 entered Chicago’s Old Town
School of Folk Music. There he learned to play the five-string banjo and
continued with the guitar.
As a teenager he played
around in the local clubs and his musicianship was so good, that he was asked
to be a sideman for the popular folk group, the Limelighters. He was then hired
to play behind the Chad Mitchell Trio. You can watch him as a teenager
accompanying the Trio on you tube. Bobby Darin wanted to put more folk music into
his repertoire and hired Roger to help him. Roger accompanied Darin for a year
and a half, until Darin got sick and retired from singing. Darin then hired
Roger as a song writer for his TM music in New York’s Brill building. At the same
time, Roger also worked as a studio musician and recorded with Judy Collins,
Simon & Garfunkel and others.
In 1963, Roger heard the
Beatles, who were then popular in England and He began including Beatles’ songs
in his solo act and experimented with fusing their rock & roll sound folk
songs. He got a call from Doug Weston in LA and was hired to play at his
nightclub, the Troubadour. Roger said that his Beatles style folk music was not
very popular with the audience. One night Gene Clark was in the audience and
loved Roger’s music. Gene asked Roger if he wanted to start a band.
Clark also had a
background in folk music. After high school in Kansas City, he formed several
folk bands. He was recruited by the New Christy Minstrels and recorded two
albums with the popular folk group. After hearing the Beatles, Clark quit the
folk scene and moved to LA.
Clark and McGuinn formed
a duo and sang Beatles covers and Beatle-esque folk songs as well as some of
their own compositions. David Crosby introduced himself to the duo after
hearing them perform at the Troubadour and began singing with them, putting on
a third part harmony. The trio became “The Jet Set” and through Crosby’s
connections hired a manager named Jim Dickson.
They added Michael Clarke
to their group as a drummer. According to Wikipedia, Clarke didn’t have much
skill playing drums, but he had a haircut like Brian Jones of the Rolling
Stones and looked good. Chris Hillman was the last member to be added to the
group as a bass player. Hillman had a background in Bluegrass music as a
Mandolin player. The group bought instruments just like the ones the Beatles
used, including Rogers’ 12 string electric Rickenbacker guitar like the one
George Harrison played. This gave the music that electric “jangly sound”. They changed
their name to the British sounding “Beefeaters” and put out a single on Elektra
records, “Please Let Me Love You”. It’s a pretty bad song in my opinion, but
you can hear the Byrds’ signature sound taking shape
Roger wanted to fuse the jangly rock sound with
lyrics like Bob Dylan’s. Dickson acquired an acetate disc of the unreleased
Dylan song “Mr. Tambourine Man”. Dylan had recorded the demo for his album
“Another Side of Bob Dylan”. Ramblin’ Jack Elliot sang harmony on the demo, but
sang off key, so the song wasn’t used on the album. At the time, the Byrds were
still calling themselves “The Jet Set”. They invited Dylan to hear their
version of the song. Dylan loved it and it is conjectured that this influenced
Dylan to “go electric”.
With back up harmony and
a rock beat, the song launched the Byrds’ career and opened the door for a host
of American groups to challenge the popularity of the British groups that
dominated the airways.
The Byrds’ “Mr.
Tambourine Man” was produced by Terry Melcher (Doris Day’s son), who had also
produced songs for the Beach Boys. Terry used the same production style for the
song that he used for the Beach Boys’ song “Don’t Worry Baby”. McGuinn wanted
his lead vocal to sound like a cross between Dylan and John Lennon. Only three
of the Byrds were actually used on the record. Roger sang lead, and David
Crosby and Gene Clark sang harmony. Melcher used four members of the “Wrecking Crew”
to play the musical instruments, Bill Pitman, Leon Russell, Hal Blaine and
Larry Knechtel. They had also played on the Beach Boys’ recording. Chris
Hillman and Michael Clark grudgingly did not play on the record. The Byrds became a regular band at the
Troubadour and in a short period of time their musicianship was up to the task
of playing on their own recordings. Mr. Tambourine Man was the only song they
didn’t actually play on.
In April of 1965 the song
shot to number one on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 and on the U.K.’s Singles
Chart. It proved to be the template for a new style of music labeled, folk/rock.
In addition to the Byrds, the Lovin’ Spoonful, the Turtles, Sonny and Cher and
Barry McGuire all had folk/rock hits that year. The Byrds second number one
song of that year, “Turn, Turn, Turn” was written by Pete Seeger. Before Pete
recorded it, the Limelighters recorded their version in 1962, when Roger, who
went by Jim at the time, was playing guitar with them. By the early 70s,
folk/rock had become a dominant genre in American music.

On our southwest road
trip, we stopped in Winslow Arizona. I wanted to spend the night in La Posada
hotel. I’ve been doing research on the Fred Harvey hotels and restaurants and wanted
to experience one first hand. La Posada was built in 1930 and designed by Mary
Colter. It was the last Harvey hotel to be built.
When the railroad
expanded across the country from East to West in the late 1800s, Fred Harvey
opened restaurants and hotels all along the Acheson, Topeka and Santa Fe train
routes. They were classy establishments with fine linen, china, silverware,
crystal, gourmet food and impeccable service. Fred Harvey died in 1901, but his
hospitality business was carried on by his family.
Harvey employed thousands
of young women from all parts of the country, and many from Europe, to serve in
his establishments. They were called “Harvey Girls.” In the development of our
nation, Fred Harvey is credited with bringing lots of eligible women out West,
where men drastically out-numbered women. Working in a Harvey hotel or
restaurant was a great opportunity for a young woman at a time when women had
few options for employment, travel and adventure. The western cowboys, shop
keepers, buffalo hunters, gamblers, ranchers, farmers, miners and even some
bandits were enchanted by these well-trained, sophisticated women.

Harvey
girls had to sign a contract to remain single and on the job for at least six
months. If they lasted that long, they were given a vacation and free travel on
the Santa Fe railroad to anywhere of their choosing. They lived in dormitories
with an eleven o’clock curfew. On Friday nights the hotel/restaurants sponsored
a town social, and this was the only time the young women were allowed to wear
street clothes in the hotels. It was also the only time the local men had a
chance to get acquainted with them. Very few women were employed for more than
a year or two. There was too great a need for women out West at the time.
We booked a room in the
historic hotel. The inside of the hotel was as beautiful as the exterior. They
took great care in keeping things in period. Many famous people stayed there
over the years, Einstein, Truman, Jane Russell, Spencer Tracy, Sinatra,
Roosevelt and Errol Flynn to name a few. Each room had a picture and biography
of the celebrity who slept there.
At the restaurant we ate
dishes from the original Harvey House menu like their corn and black bean soup.
The waitress instructed me as to how to eat it. “First take a bite of the corn
side, then the bean side, and after that you can eat them together.” I followed her guidance, and it was delicious.
On the morning we left
Winslow, I thought it would be cool to get my picture taken “standing on the
corner”, like in the Eagles song, “Take it Easy”. I didn’t have to look
very
hard to find a corner to stand on, because there is a sign on a corner in the
middle of town that reads “Standin' on the Corner” and there was a bevy of
couples, all in their sixties and beyond, taking each other’s pictures standing
next to the sign. The town of Winslow has
created a major tourist attraction out of the first hit single by the Eagles. There is even an annual "Standing on the Corner" festival. Originally
the song was written, but not completed, by Jackson Browne for his first
album. Glen Frey heard it, liked it and encouraged Jackson to finish
it. Glen wanted to record the song with his band, but months went by without progress.
Finally, Glen asked Jackson if he could finish the song for him. Jackson agreed
and the rest is rock & roll history. It is the first cut on the Eagles
first album and was their first hit single in May 1972. Jackson recorded it
also as his first cut on his second album “For Everyman”.
The morning was cold and
overcast and I had to wait my turn to get my picture taken. Next to the sign is
a statue of a young man with a guitar, his shoulder worn smooth and shiny from
all the tourists putting their arms around him. He does not resemble Jackson
Browne, but another statue not far away, of a long-haired hippy dude, does sort
of look like Glen Frey. Murals on the building behind depict the reflection in
a hotel window of a young woman driving by in a flatbed Ford and in an upstairs
window, a young man and woman are in an embrace. There is even a real flatbed
Ford pick-up strategically parked on the street in front. They went all out to
replicate the second verse of this early seventies’ song.
The woman running the
gift shop across the street told me that in the warmer weather there are people
from all over the country and around the world taking pictures and buying
mementoes. She said it’s a big deal for tourism and the Winslow economy. One
line out of a song, who’d of thought, but then again, baby boomers like myself
are nuts about our music.
Katie and I poked around the
gift shop for a while and then continued on our journey.
When I returned home from Vietnam, I still had a year and
several months to serve in the Army before being released from active duty.
Most of the guys who served with me at Fort Hood, Texas were also Vietnam veterans. We worked with each other every day and on
week-ends, we ate and drank together, but rarely did we mention our Vietnam
experience. We were ready to leave that experience behind and move forward into
our bright future. Our emotions were bottled up inside. We didn’t realize how
changed we were, and how hard it was going to be to fit back in to American
society.
In the summer of 1969, I took a couple of weeks leave and
drove from Fort Hood to Louisville, Ky. where my parents were living. My family
was from St. Louis, but while I was in Vietnam, they moved to Louisville, where
my dad had accepted a job. I didn’t know the area and had no friends there. Most
of my time was spent hanging out in their condo, watching tv.
They
subscribed to Life magazine and the new issue came while I was there. On the
cover was a giant picture of the face of a Vietnam soldier. Next to the Life
logo the title read, “The Faces of the American Dead in Vietnam, One Week’s
Toll.”
Inside were 242 faces, all soldiers who had died in that
one-week period of the war. I examined every face. Each one deserved my full
attention. Part way through, I had to set the magazine aside. My blocked
emotions finally erupted like a volcano. I finished reverently examining each
face and when my parents came home from work, I was emotionally spent and exhausted.
My mom asked me how my day went, I said, “Fine.”
How could they understand what I was going through, I
didn’t understand it myself.
From the June 27, 1969, issue of
LIFE:
The faces shown on the next pages
are the faces of American men killed—in the words of the official announcement
of their deaths—"in connection with the conflict in Vietnam." The
names, 242 of them, were released on May 28 through June 3 [1969], a span of no
special significance except that it includes Memorial Day. The numbers of the
dead are average for any seven-day period during this stage of the war.
It is not the intention of this
article to speak for the dead. We cannot tell with any precision what they
thought of the political currents which drew them across the world. From the
letters of some, it is possible to tell they felt strongly that they should be
in Vietnam, that they had great sympathy for the Vietnamese people and were
appalled at their enormous suffering. Some had voluntarily extended their tours
of combat duty; some were desperate to come home. Their families provided most
of these photographs, and many expressed their own feelings that their sons and
husbands died in a necessary cause. Yet in a time when the numbers of Americans
killed in this war—36,000—though far less than the Vietnamese losses, have
exceeded the dead in the Korean War, when the nation continues week after week
to be numbed by a three-digit statistic which is translated to direct anguish
in hundreds of homes all over the country, we must pause to look into the
faces. More than we must know how many, we must know who. The faces of one
week's dead, unknown but to families and friends, are suddenly recognized by
all in this gallery of young American eyes.

On Veterans’ Day, Katie and I attended the “VetsAid, The Concert
for our Veterans" with Joe Walsh and friends. It was at the Tacoma Dome and
Joe’s friends were Don Henley, James Taylor, Chris Stapleton, HIAM and Ringo.
We haven’t attended many concerts since we’ve gotten older.
Generally speaking, they are too loud and too uncomfortable for too long. This
one was no exception. We showed up at 4:00 pm for the 6:00 concert and at 11:30 pm,
way past bed-time, were sitting in our car in a very slow-moving line of cars trying
to get out of the Tacoma Dome parking lot.
We attempted to smuggle in some cheese and
crackers, but the security person found the crackers, and
unceremoniously had Katie toss them into a large trash can, containing all sorts of other
goodies. She did not find our stash of cheese, however. We hadn’t eaten since
lunch, so we were left to buy the stadium food. I supplemented our bag of cheese with a tiny five dollar
bag of pretzels and a twelve dollar can of beer. I don’t think the Tacoma Dome
people have checked recently to see what the price of food is out on the open
market.
Our seats were on the side and upper level. The
Tacoma Dome had just installed new seating. The unmercifully hard bench seats were thankfully gone, replaced by fairly comfortable seats with backs. We had only attended one other
concert at the Dome in the nineties, a benefit for the police and firemen. The two acts were The Lovin' Spoonful,
without John Sebastian, and America, without one of them. America was extremely
good. The guy who was missing was not missed much, but The Lovin' Spoonful
was not the same without John Sebastian.
The VetsAid concert began with Daniel Daymon and the Puget Sound based Gospel Choir
singing a rousing rendition of the National Anthem.
The opening act was HIAM,
three sisters from the San Fernando Valley in LA. They were extremely energetic,
playing rock/pop that at times verged on heavy metal and incorporating a variety
of unusual sounds. They opened their set with Taiko-like drumming. The
syncopated beats filled the Dome. I had never heard of them and I don’t think
I’ll rush out and buy any of their music, but I was impressed by their musicianship,
harmonies and versatility. For three slight young women, they sure made a hell
of a lot of noise. Katie and I came prepared with ear plugs, which I should
have kept in for the whole concert, but I took them out for James Taylor and
forgot to put them back in for Joe Walsh, big mistake. My ears are still ringing.

Drew Carey, host of "The Price is Right," introduced Chris Stapleton.The concert advertising said there would be surprise guests, but Drew was the only one not listed on the playbill.
Between acts Drew introduced veterans and veteran family members who have benefitted from the veteran programs.
I had only heard one of Chris’s songs before, “Tennessee Whiskey”, which is actually
a cover of a David Allen Coe song. Unbeknownst to me, Chris is a popular country
artist and has written over 170 songs with six number one hits on the country
music charts. He's won multiple Grammys and Academy of Country Music
awards. From our vantage point, way up in the nose-bleed section, he looked
like a cross between Leon Russell and Charlie Daniels. But after looking at him on
my computer, the resemblance stopped at the facade of long hair, beard and
cowboy hat. He is actually better looking than either of the other two guys. Like Waylon's, his music was driven by a strong back beat, but his voice and singing style was a cross between Sam Cooke
and John Fogerty. His songs were soulful but country at the same time.
There
was a long intermission, which gave us time to stretch our legs and stand in extremely
long bathroom lines. Most of the audience were baby boomers like ourselves, so
the lines moved much slower than they used to.

Finally it was time for the acts I was most excited to see, James Taylor, Don
Henley, Joe Walsh and Ringo. JT sat in a chair for his first three songs, “Carolina in my Mind”, “Native Son” about a
returned Vietnam veteran friend and “Sweet Baby James” which he introduced by
saying, “for those of you who are not
sleeping already.” He then played “Fire and Rain”. The song is like 40 years
old, yet he sang it with all of the tenderness and nuance the song deserves. How does he
do it after all these years? He invited Joe Walsh out to help him with his last
number “Steam Roller Blues.” There is no musician who has played as big a part in
my life for as long as James, so I was happy to see him doing well and still able
to do what he loves and what we love him for. At 70 years old, he’s still got
it.

Don Henley opened with “The End of the Innocence” from his
solo days. Having Joe Walsh there meant he could pull off some of the Eagles
songs like “Life in the Fast Lane”. Henley went back behind the drum kit for “Hotel California”. When the crowd heard the opening guitar licks
everybody cheered. Joe
and another excellent guitar player taking Bob Felder’s part, nailed the harmony
guitar solos. Henley also performed the 1985 "Tears for Fears" song “Everybody
Wants to Rule the World,” odd choice, but well done. He ended his set with a moving version of
“Desperado”. The Eagles' songs were bitter sweet for me because of the fairly recent, January 2016, death of Glen
Frey.
Joe Walsh still plays like a focused maniac. Like the others he played some of his greatest hits,“Rocky Mountain Way” and “Life’s Been Good”, which like JT’s “Fire and Rain” is the song the audience expects at every live event.
Ringo came out for the finale number, "With a Little Help From My Friends" with all the musicians and the audience backing him up. The old Beatles song never sounded more appropriate.
All the performers thanked us veterans for our service and told
us it was an honor for them to play for us. I was moved, reminding me of my
feelings about the Bob Hope Christmas show in Vietnam. People who have not been in a war cannot really
know what it’s like, but for those of us who have, we deeply appreciate their gratitude
and attempts to understand. Joe’s VetsAid concerts have raised over 22 million
dollars for veteran programs. It was a great concert despite my ringing ears, the over priced junk food and insufferably long amount of time. Thank you to Joe and friends.
The Savoy Theatre
25 Jan 2017 12:00 PM (8 years ago)

In
1958 my dad drove me and my friend Paul to the Savoy Theatre in downtown
Ferguson. We were both ten, and this was the first time our parents let us
attend a movie without adult supervision. Dad let us off in front, making sure
we knew when and where he would pick us up. The movie was “The Blob” and according
to friends, it is was “really good” and “really scary”.
It
was the first show of the evening and a long line of kids stood waiting outside
to buy tickets. Paul and I went to the
end of the line. Most of the other kids towered over us. Some girls standing next
to us talked with each other excitedly and Paul and I noticed they smelled like
perfume. Some of the boys up ahead looked dangerous, with hair greased back,
short sleeves rolled up, shirt fronts partly unbuttoned and collars flipped up
in the back. They were smoking cigarettes, talking loudly and pushing each
other around.
The
line in the lobby for snacks was long too, but we had plenty of time before the
movie started. We bought candy, soda and shared a popcorn. I don’t remember
what kind of candy Paul got, but I bought a big chunk of fudge, not the best
choice for this particular movie. By the time we made it to our seats, the
theater was nearly full and filled with the sounds of talking and laughter. A
theater custodian patrolled up and down the aisles. As soon as he disappeared
through the curtains and into the lobby, the air was filled with flying popcorn
and crumpled candy wrappers. The concrete floor under our feet was sticky from
spilled soda and under the arms of the seats were petrified wads of chewing
gum.
The
movie opens with a young couple necking in a convertible. It was Steve
McQueen’s first movie role and he received $3,000 for his performance. The girl
was Anita Corsaut, who would several years later play Helen Crump, Opie’s
teacher and Andy’s girlfriend on the Andy Griffith Show. The couple notices a
meteor cross the night sky and crash to earth. They take off in Steve’s powder
blue 1952 Plymouth, to try to find it. But an old man, who lives in a cabin
nearby, finds it first. The old man pokes the small meteor with a stick and it
opens to reveal a small, round, reddish blob. He then pokes the blob and lifts
it up to examine it. It now looks yellowish and oozy like a big disgusting glob
of snot. When it jumps from the stick onto the old man’s hand, a collective
gasp ripples across the theater. The old man tries to shake it off, but can’t.
He stumbles out onto the highway and Steve and Miss Crump nearly run him over.
I
watched parts of the movie on "you-tube" in order to write this blog-post, and compared to today’s
horror films, it’s terrible. It’s poorly written, the actors definitely would
not win any awards and most importantly, to today’s kids, it would not be the
least bit scary. In the 50s “cheap teen movies” were made for the drive-in movie
market. “The Blob” was released as a double feature along with “I Married a Monster
from Outer Space”. But in 1958, the entire audience of kids, even the “cool”
rowdy kids, were transfixed by the suspense, many hiding their eyes and
scrunching down in their seats.
Paul
and I voraciously ate the popcorn, drank the soda and I was working on my big hunk of fudge
right when the blob oozed through the ventilation grates and into the on screen movie theater.
I had to leave my seat, run up the aisle and out the exit to upchuck by the
side of the theater. But I didn’t want to miss any of the action, so I ran back
in and continued watching.
No one could figure out how to stop
the blob until a fire broke out and some of the fire extinguisher fluid accidentally
sprayed it. When it recoiled, our hero, Steve, remembered it recoiling earlier from an
open freezer door and put two and two together. Steve's teenage friends and the cops
grabbed all the fire extinguishers they could find and were able to temporarily
freeze it. In its frozen state, the blob was airlifted by an Air Force heavy
lift cargo plane to the Arctic and sent parachuting down onto the ice. In the final
dialogue of the movie, Policeman Dave
says something like, “the blob is not dead, but at least it has been stopped.”
To which Steve replies, "Yeah, as long as the Arctic stays cold." And
if you’ve been listening to the news lately you’d know that the Arctic ice is
melting at an unparalleled rate. Paul and I survived our first unsupervised
outing at the Savoy. On the way out we noticed Hercules was coming next week.
We could hardly wait.
The last film I remember seeing at the Savoy was “A
Thousand Clowns” with Jason Robards. It
was the summer after I graduated from McCluer High School and my last date with
Marley before entering the Army.
The Savoy Theatre opened on Christmas day 1936. In 1966 it
was purchased by the Wehrenberg chain of theatres. The inside was completely
gutted and remodeled to become the Crown Theatre and ran newly released films. In 1993 the Crown closed
and the building became the Savoy
Banquet Center.

I’ve begun the laborious task of transferring all of
my family’s slides to digital photos. The slides start in the mid-fifties and
go into the early sixties. My dad took a lot of pictures, three shoe boxes full.
In the nineties, after both of my parents had died, I went through the slides,
throwing many away and putting the rest in little plastic boxes with labels on
the top. Besides the family slides, we also have boxes of photographs out in
the garage that need to be scanned sometime in the future.
I bought a slide scanner on line. It was cheap, made
in China, but had more stars than the other scanners. One problem is
that it cuts the pictures off on the sides. It's like watching a movie made for a newer rectangular screen TV on an old square TV. Sometimes you see two noses
talking to each other with the rest of the two persons out of view. Most of the slides are not affected by this because
the subject is in the center of the frame. But in a few pictures, where people
were sitting around a table or in the living room, I had to decide whether to leave
out the person on the right or the person on the left or shift the slide and scan
the picture twice.
It was
one of those “people sitting around in the living room” pictures that caused me
to pause and seriously question this whole project. My Grandmother had two good
friends, Elsie and Amanda. Neither of them ever married and they shared an
apartment, we called it a “flat” but I don’t know why. I never knew the history of either of these
women, but as a boy, they both seemed very old, in their old lady print dresses
and big clunky black shoes. My Dad referred to them as the “high kickers” which
my sister and I thought was funny. They were both very sweet ladies and always nice to
us kids.
In the picture, Elsie was sitting on one
side of the living room and Amanda on the other. I had to decide which
one to cut out or whether to shift the slide and scan two pictures. Then it struck me. Who cares? Who
will ever want to look at these pictures? My sister will enjoy looking at them,
maybe once. But for some reason, I could not forever cut out either Elsie or Amanda. After all, they were always part of our extended family gatherings.
 |
Left to right- Grandpa, my sister Karen, Amanda, Mom, Elsie,
cousin Kurt, Uncle Merle, great cousin Marie and Aunt Edie |
On Christmas or Thanksgiving the family gathered at my grandparents house in south St. Louis. These were happy occasions. Grandpa Ben(died in 1959) sat at one end of the table and Grandma(not in the picture, either her or grandpa had to be cut) at the other. This picture shows only some of the family, but for me captures the essence of that fleeting time, which I thought was forever.
I’ve seen these old slides so many times over the years, I can’t look at them from an objective viewpoint. Dad would set up the
screen and projector in the living room, which seemed like a major deal and we sat mesmerized, looking at ourselves on vacation or at family
functions. Dad had humorous comments for almost every slide and some of his
comments were “off-color”. Mom would then say in a stern voice “Kenneth” and
my sister and I would laugh. I even scanned a picture of a robin on our dead front lawn. Mom made such a big deal about what a crappy (my word not hers, she rarely used any bad language) picture it was, insinuating that it costs a lot of money to get slides developed, so don't waste them.
These are a few of my favorites. For me each one still captures some of the security, freedom and hope of my childhood, which seems to have gotten lost somewhere along the way to adulthood.
 |
View on a snow day from our dinning room window |
A big snow in Ferguson meant school was cancelled. In the morning, when I first opened my eyes to the soft, reflected light of snow filling my room, I knew the day ahead had been transformed into an exciting adventure.
 |
Flying down the street on my Royal Racer sled. |
I was given a puppy for Christmas when I was three. I named her Cookie. She slept at the foot of my bed and went everywhere with me when I was a boy. She died when I was in Vietnam.
 |
Me, Paul Brehm, Tom Woodard and Bob Chapman |
At Ranch Royale, we camped and rented horses. We were allowed to ride anywhere on the huge property, unsupervised.
One of my favorite trips, in 1958, was to Hannibal, Mo where we visited the boyhood home of Samuel Clemmons. The books Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were my childhood favorites.
I had just gotten a new Brownie flash camera for my birthday. When we toured the cave where Becky and Tom had to hide from Indian Joe, the tour guide turned out the lights. It was dark and scary. |
Sometime my sister, Karen, went along on these adventures. |
My mom had a friend from work named Alma who owned a farm house down in the Ozarks. We went there quite a few times. In the winter I explored the woods with Cookie. I always had my BB gun, but never shot at any animals. I was afraid I might hit one.
In the summer I fished in the local stream and we swam in a large lake nearby. Alma was sometimes there when we were and she made big breakfasts--pancakes, bacon and fruit. She also cleaned and cooked the fish I caught.
Our baseball team was sponsored by Barbay's Market, a local Ferguson grocery store |
.Baseball was a big part of my life growing up. In the St. Louis area we had the
Kourey League. One of the highlights of my boyhood was getting to play at Bush stadium in the Kourey League All Star game.
So Long Leonard
16 Nov 2016 12:10 PM (8 years ago)

I
first heard Leonard Cohen when I was stationed at Fort Hood Army base in Texas.
I had a year left to serve. My unit was filled with Intelligence personnel,
back from Vietnam like myself. The Army didn’t really know what to do with us. I
was a POW Interrogator and Order of Battle Analyst and in Texas there wasn’t
much need for my expertise, so they put me to work in the motor pool. I kept
track of and ordered parts for vehicles.
I shared an open bay on the second floor of an Army barracks with a bunch of guys
and two of them became good friends. Both Phil and Tony were excellent guitar
players. In the evenings we would sit on the edge of one of our bunks and they
would play music. Tony was a polished musician, having played in the LA clubs
before being forced into the Army. Phil played an old Martin D-28 and finger
picked like Mississippi John Hurt. I loved their music and wanted in. They
helped me pick out a guitar in a Killeen music store and began teaching me how
to play. I picked up some music books to help with the process and one of them
was the “Songs of Leonard Cohen”.

Tony
was knowledgeable about all the folk artists of the time, and he introduced me
to the music of Eric Anderson, Phil Ochs, Hoyt Axton, Jackson Browne (Tony knew
Jackson from the LA circuit and they exchanged songs before Jackson had his
first album out), Tom Rush and Leonard Cohen. Leonard had two albums out in
1969, Songs of Leonard Cohen and Songs from a Room. I loved his music.
Unlike American music, his songs sounded more like the French singers, Jacques
Brel and Edith Piaff. I guess this isn’t surprising, since he came from
Montreal. I
loved his poetry of existential/religious/symbolic language. He was
intellectual and classy, in his natty attire, a "continental" man. The guitar music
in his songbook was in tablature, which shows you exactly where to put your fingers on the strings.
Many of the songs were easy to learn on the guitar and I spent hours
painstakingly learning a bunch of them.
The
songbook also contained biographical information about Leonard and pictures of
his house on the Island of Hydra, Greece with Marianne, his beautiful Norwegian
girlfriend and muse. For a twenty one year old boy back from the war and soon
to be free with plans of travel and college, I was enchanted by Leonard and his
lifestyle. I wanted to be him or some version thereof. Years later I got the chance to see him live. In
1993, Katie and I drove up to Vancouver, BC to attend a Leonard Cohen concert.
Even then Leonard was not widely known in the US. His songs were not top 40
material. This was before his song Hallelujah,
from his 1984 Various Positions album, became a huge hit. At
the time his most famous song probably was Suzanne
made popular by Judy Collins on her 1966 album In My Life and Leonard’s first song on his first album. Here’s the
last verse.
Now Suzanne takes your hand, and she
leads you to the river, she’s wearing rags and feathers from salvation army
counters, and the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor, and she
shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers, there are heroes in
the seaweed, there are children in the morning, they are leaning out for love
and they will lean this way forever, while Suzanne holds the mirror, and you
want to travel with her and you want to travel blind, and you know you can
trust her for she’s touched your perfect body with her mind.

To
my surprise, the concert at the Orpheum was packed and the audience knew the
words to most of the songs. Like Joni Mitchell and Neil Young, Leonard was
Canada’s own. With an exceptional back-up band and angelic sounding women
singers enveloping and surrounding his low gravelly voice, his songs filled the
beautifully ornate theater. It was definitely one of the music concert
highlights of my life. Leonard
has been part of my life since I was twenty. I wish I could have thanked him
personally.
First
verse of his song Anthem from the
album The Future. A very timely message.
The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
Has passed away
Or what is yet to be
Yeah the wars they will
Be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
Bought and sold
And bought again
The dove is never free
Ring the bells (ring the bells) that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That's how the light gets in
Thank
you Leonard.

Just the other day Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. For
most of us boomers, this is world-wide validation of one of the main artists and
driving influences of our generation. Only Elvis and the Beatles share such an
exalted place in single handedly redirecting the popular music and culture of
our time. The poets of our generation were the singer song writers--Joni
Mitchell, Paul Simon, Neil Young, James Taylor, Jackson Brown, Carol King, and
Leonard Cohen.
Dylan's music brought protest songs into the popular arena
and influenced musicians to write and perform their own songs. Yet he was not
widely accepted by the popular music listening audience. In his entire career,
he never had a number one hit on the Billboard Top 100 charts and made it to
number two only twice. In the sixties, most of Dylan’s popular songs were made
famous by other artists, Blowin’ in the Wind, Peter Paul &
Mary, Mr. Tambourine Man, The Byrds, It Ain’t Me Babe, The
Turtles, All Along the Watch Tower, Jimi Hendrix.
In 1963 I first heard Dylan’s music. He was a “folk singer” and had only two albums out,
Bob Dylan and Freewheelin. I’d like to say I liked him from the very beginning, but I didn’t.
I thought he had an obnoxious nasally voice and was an even worse harmonica
player. What I did like at the time was a girl who wanted me to like him.
Her name was Marley and she attended a local Catholic school. I met her at a
party. That’s not exactly true, we first met at a local Steak & Shake. She
was in the back seat of a convertible with three other girls. They pulled in
next to the car I was in with three of my friends. She caught my eye immediately
and smiled and said hi. My friends knew the other girls in the car. They all
attended McCluer High and invited us to a party at one of their houses.
The party turned out to be just the four of us and the four of them. Marley
and I hit it off right away and began talking about music. Her passion for folk
and jazz equaled my own for rock & roll. We started seeing each other
regularly and listening to music. And that’s all we did, listen to and
talk about music. We became good friends and enjoyed each other’s company. I
would have liked to have changed the friendship, but “dating” might have ruined
it. Besides, I was too chicken to make a romantic move.
We influenced each other's taste in music. I began to like folk music and
learned to appreciate Dylan’s hard edged poetic language that mocked cultural
conventions and exposed the hypocrisies. I helped Marley appreciate rock &
roll.
It was in 1965 on a week-long trip to Florida, where I first heard the fusion
of folk music and rock & roll. I went with two of my high school friends,
Petie and Jeff. We took turns driving Petie’s Corvair Monza convertible
non-stop all the way from Ferguson to Fort Lauderdale. With the top down the
entire way, the three of us were painfully sun and wind burned by the time we
arrived. After renting a cheap motel room, we agreed on one important rule. If
any one of us picked up a girl, the other two had to “get lost” for the
entire night.
Over the course of the week, I became intimately acquainted with a bench on
the boardwalk, while Jeff and Petie took turns in the motel room. One
night while sitting on that bench, I heard Dylan on the jukebox. The music was
coming from inside a pinball arcade directly behind me. I located the jukebox in
the back of the arcade. The song was number B-25, Like a Rolling Stone.
I plugged the machine with quarters and played it over and over.
The next morning, I called Marley long distance from a pay phone next to the
highway to tell her the news, Dylan was playing rock &
roll.


Don was not supposed to
be driving. He has dementia. His wife told me before we left
the house, “He is
not to drive” and she knows what she’s talking about. So Don and I took off in their
Subaru Forrester with me behind the wheel and headed up to Louella’s Cabin. It’s
about fifteen miles from our home in Sequim, a beautiful drive up into the
foothills of the Olympic Mountains.
Louella was Don’s Grandmother. She and her husband built
the cabin in the early 1900s, when the Peninsula was sparsely populated. It is now
owned and run by the Park Service and can be rented. I had been to the cabin with
Don once before, before he had dementia. He and I had walked around the cabin
and looked in the windows. Don was excited to point out the pictures hanging
inside on the cabin walls. They were pictures of his relatives. I really
couldn’t see them clearly, but Don told me who was pictured in each one. We
talked with several of the neighbors.
They were excited to meet the grandson of
Louella. Everyone in the area knows a little about Louella or at least they
know her name. At the intersection of Louella Road and the gravel road leading
up to the cabin, a Park Service sign identifies it as “Louella’s Cabin”.
On the drive home in my
car on that first trip, Don made sure I took the narrow asphalt road that angled
off the main road leading down the mountain and ending at Highway 101. He told
me that when his grandparents lived in the cabin, the road was dirt and/or mud,
and Louella would harness the mule with a rope, throw saddle bags over his back,
and walk the five or so miles down to the Blyn store to get supplies.
When we reached the cabin, I parked the Subaru in front and
Don and I walked into the woods behind it. He told me he had roamed these woods
often as child. As we walked, Don whistled. He is an avid whistler. He doesn’t
whistle complete songs, only pieces. Once on a walk, I asked him what he was
whistling and he said he didn’t know. I was able to identify a few of the
songs, but Don really wasn’t that interested in knowing what they were. He
became a little disoriented a few times as we traipsed through the woods, but
clearly he enjoyed being in the familiar territory of his childhood. When we returned to the car, I opened the driver’s door and started
to get in when Don called out, “I’d like to drive.”
I hesitated, but there
was something in his look that caused me to toss him the keys. He caught them one
handed. He drove slowly and carefully down the driveway and out onto Louella Road,
but as soon as he turned down the narrow asphalt road leading to Blyn, he sped
up. The road is windy and my body was thrown from side to side. “Don, don’t you
think you should slow down?”
He looked at me with fire
in his eyes and continued barreling down the mountain. What have I done? Don’s wife told me not to let him drive and now we’re
both going to be killed in a fiery crash.”
“Don, you need to slow
down.” I yelled, but instead of slowing down, he accelerated. My good friend
with dementia seemed to be channeling Mario Andretti. He flung the car We came around a sharp turn and onto a
dirt road. We were heading straight for the cliff edge overlooking the river. I
braced myself for a “Thelma and Louise” ending, but suddenly Don rotated the
steering wheel, putting the car into a sideways skid, and we came to rest at
the edge of the steep embankment. Don looked at me and smiled with open, clear
eyes. He was completely focused and aware of what he was doing and never looked
more alive. I realized he must have driven these roads hundreds of times. I
relaxed after that and let Don skillfully maneuver the car down to the highway.
My relaxed attitude quickly dissipated
when we got to the busy intersection. Don was having trouble deciding when to
pull out into the traffic. He began inching his way out as cars whizzed by. I realized his disorientation was back and he
needed my help.
“Don, pull over, I can take it from here.”
He looked at me, his focus and clarity gone, replaced by uncertainty and
confusion. He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger’s side and
I drove home.
Don now lives in an assisted living
facility. We are going to visit him next week. I bet he’s made lots of friends in
his new home and I hope he’s still whistling. I’ll never forget going with him
on his last wild ride.

Our hotel in Hue was located down a small alleyway
off a main street. In the hotel lobby we were greeted by three employees,
all were gracious and accommodating. Our room was on the third floor. The
elevator had no depth. We walked into it, turned around and our backs were to
the wall and our faces next to the door. It was a nice hotel for less than $25
a night. The room was clean, the bed was comfortable and the staff arranged for
any trips or cab rides we needed. Breakfast was included and served every
morning in the lobby. I
had a small freshly baked baguette or Croissant with scrambled eggs and fresh fruit and Vietnamese coffee, yum.

The first day we went to the Citadel, located across
the Perfume River from our hotel, the walled Imperial City filled with ornate
temples and buildings. It was Vietnam's capital from 1804 until 1945 and the home
of Vietnamese Royalty. Instead of walking all
the way down to one of the bridges to cross the river, we paid $2.00 and rode an
ornately painted “dragon boat” operated by a man and his wife.
 |
Image from alphaonefive.com |
In February 1968, Hue was attacked by ten battalions
of North Vietnamese soldiers and Viet Cong. American forces along with South
Vietnamese units battled it out in the city for 25 days. The last stronghold of
the enemy was the Citadel. In order to root out the enemy, we bombed it,
destroying many of the structures. I was in Vietnam at the time
and one of our interpreters had taken some time off to visit his family in Hue
for the New Year’s celebration. He survived the month long fighting and
returned to our unit and told us all about it.
The day was extremely hot when we wandered
around the palace grounds. We carried bottled water and had rags to wipe away
the sweat. There were a few signs that mentioned the
war and the battle of 1968, but without the negative tone against the “American
aggressors”. There was still much evidence of the battle from almost 50 years
before, destroyed buildings and walls, bullet holes in the bricks and deep
holes in the ground. I tried to imagine my fellow soldiers fighting the enemy
in and around these historic buildings.
After an hour or so of taking in the many beautiful
ornate buildings, they became rather redundant. We read about the royal family and
looked at many pictures. They seemed rich, spoiled and out of touch with the
rest of the people in their country. They enjoyed gluttonous meals consisting
of hard to get or hard to prepare foods and they used eunuchs (castrated boys)
as personal servants. The men in power had many wives as well as many concubines.
The next day we hired a cab driver to take us
to a restored primitive village with an historic old bridge. The expansive countryside
around Hue was beautiful, green and lush. The cab driver told us he was a
journalist and worked for one of the local papers. As Katie and I traveled the
country, we were disheartened by all the trash, plastic bags and bottles etc. scattered
along the sides of the roads and floating in the waterways. In and around the
cities the trash problem was the worst, less so out in the country. We asked
the journalist/cab driver about it and he admitted that it was a big problem.
He told us he had written an article about it and submitted it to his paper.
“My editor asked me if I was willing to go to jail over it and I told him 'no, I
didn’t want to go to jail'.” So his editor told him to drop it and write about
something else.
Even though under Communist rule the Vietnamese
people do not yet have all the freedoms of a democracy, in general, this young
population seems happy and hopeful about their future. In Hoi Ahn when the school kids rode past us on
their bikes, invariably they would shout out a friendly “Hello”. One evening
when we were strolling along the Perfume River in Hue, we were approached by a
small group of young Vietnamese women. They were students at Hue University and
asked us if we would mind talking with them so that they could practice their
English. We sat on the river wall and talked for over an hour. They were
excited about their future and wanted to learn all about the world. They did
not seem the least bit worried about their country or the government and no
topic was off limits.
On the third morning we took a cab to the Hue airport,
flew to Hanoi, then back to Singapore. We had spent fifteen days in
Vietnam, and similar to my first time there in the sixties, I was both happy
and sad to leave.
PTSD Express
30 May 2016 1:20 PM (8 years ago)

As we sat waiting with
other passengers to load onto our bus from Hoi An to Hue, a Vietnamese man
stood up and began yelling at us, “Come on, let’s go, get on the bus”, as if we
weren’t paying attention or were late to arrive. We didn’t realize our bus was
parked over to the side of where we were sitting. There were no signs or
directions of any kind. It was one of
those sleeper buses that run up and down the few highways of Vietnam.
When you enter these
buses, the bus driver hands you a plastic bag for your shoes. You are to place
them in the bag and carry them back to your seat. The seats are like recliners,
with an enclosed area for your legs. Within the enclosed area is (but not always)
a blanket and small leather pillow. Above your midsection is a built in tray to
hold snacks and drinks. There are three rows of seats and two levels, like
bunk-beds. Katie and I had ridden this type of bus before and we chose the lower
seats because they are easier to get in and out of, but are still difficult.
The distance between the top seat and bottom seat is small and you have to
slide in at an angle one foot at a time to get your legs into the leg area.
Everything in Vietnam
seems to be made for small people. I had to buy an XXL tee shirt, which is the
largest size at the souvenir stands, and I’m not a very big guy. One washing and
this shirt will fit my twelve year old grandson perfectly.
A very tall young man
entered the bus. The quick tempered purser directed him to a seat in the back.
I watched this lanky northern European tourist attempt to maneuver his long
legs into the leg compartment. He couldn’t do it. One of the other passengers
who had witnessed his frustrated attempts, directed him to a seat up front
where there was no leg compartment. The bus driver and purser had exited the
bus and were attempting to cram a motor scooter sideways into the luggage
compartment. The relieved young man sank into the open fronted seat with a sigh
of relief.
When the cranky purser
came back on the bus and saw the man sitting in the front seat, he yelled and
frantically gestured, “You go in back.”
“I’m too tall,” he
replied, “I don’t fit.”
But the purser kept
yelling and gesturing for him to move. This went on for a while, each man repeating
the same thing. Finally the tourist said, “You are not listening, I don’t fit.”
The purser got off the
bus and talked with the bus driver who immediately came on the bus and began
yelling at the man, “You go in back.” But the tourist wouldn’t budge saying,
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The bus driver was
beside himself. He totally lost his temper and began shouting at the guy to
move. The tourist just kept saying, “I’m not moving”. Some of the other
passengers tried to explain the situation, but he didn’t understand or wasn’t
listening. The driver grabbed the keys, turned off the bus engine, pushed the
purser toward the door and they both exited the bus. He slammed the door shut, locking
us all in. He sat down on a plastic chair just outside the bus, in defiance.
It was a standoff
between the Scandinavian tourist and the bus driver and the rest of us were
unwitting victims of the situation. It was a hot, humid day. The inside of the
bus was heating up and it was becoming stuffy. After a few minutes, a passenger
needing to use the bathroom, began pounding on the bus door, but the Driver and
Purser paid no attention. I was feeling
panicky, a familiar feeling that had visited me from time to time since last
being in Vietnam. My heart was racing and I felt claustrophobic. How are we going to get out of here? I
imagined myself kicking out a window. I knew the bus driver could not kill all
his passengers, that wouldn’t be good for business. But I wasn’t thinking
rationally, so I focused on my breath, deep breath in, deep breath out, to help
me calm down. The other passengers were now beginning to talk to each other
about the situation.
In January 1968, I was
awakened in the middle of the night by one of my hooch-mates. “Yeager, get up!
We’re being attacked.” The five of us in the hooch all scrambled to pull on our
pants and boots. We were used to the sound of explosions in the night, but
these were getting closer and there was a strange new noise. It sounded like
the whistling bottle rockets we set off on the 4th of July, only bigger and
more ominous. I grabbed my rifle and
steel pot. The other guys were huddled at the screen door, looking across the
dirt road to the bunker on the other side. Tracer bullets filled the space in
between. We didn’t know who was shooting at whom, but the explosions were
getting louder and we needed to get our butts over to the bunker, post haste.
 |
Looking over the damage after Tet offensive |
One of the guys said, “We’re
gonna have to run for it,” and he took off across the road for the bunker.
Another guy went and another until it was my turn. I waited for a break in the
tracer bullet action and took off. At the entrance to the bunker someone
grabbed me and pulled me in. We all made it and spent the rest of the night
hunkered down in the bunker, listening to the explosions and hoping we were not
being overrun by the enemy. I kept
thinking about how easy it would be for someone to lob a grenade or satchel
charge into the bunker and kill us all. We sat huddled in that humid smelly bunker
until daylight, not knowing what was going on or what would be the outcome.
 |
This hooch took a direct hit from a rocket |
This was one of many
experiences I had the last time I was in Vietnam and it seemed to be fueling my
current anxiety on the bus. I looked out the bus window at the Bus Driver and
he was talking on his cell phone. He hung up and shortly after that a man
showed up on a motorbike, apparently the bus company supervisor. He got the
keys from the driver and unlocked the bus door. The passenger who had been
beating on the door, ran off to the bathroom and the man climbed on the bus and
stood in front of the tall tourist.
“You need to go to a
seat in the back.” And in broken English he tried to explain why. But the
tourist didn’t want to hear his explanations and kept saying.
“OK, I’ll go in back,
but you just shush.”
The man continued to
explain and the tourist kept saying, “You shush,” but then went to the back and
into a seat, with his knees up in his face. The Supervisor left on his
motorbike and the Bus Driver and Purser came back on the bus. Now the Driver
was late on his run and his frustration and anger were not abated. He started
the bus engine, slammed it in gear and stepped on it. I think he was trying to
peel out or pop a wheelie, but the bus just shuddered, before starting forward.
It was a wild ride to Hue. The driver
tailgated every car and bullied every motor scooter to the side of the road,
all the while laying on the horn. When we finally got to Hue we were all
relieved. A woman passenger with a Spanish accent told the bus driver off
before exiting the bus. She told him he was a menace on the road and one day he
was going to kill someone. A few of the other passengers clapped. Katie and I
got off the bus and walked around the parking lot a few times just to get our
bearings.

The
local bus from Danang south to Hoi Anh took about an hour. Bus drivers in
Vietnam have assistants who take care of the passengers, help them on and off
the bus and load and unload luggage and packages. On the sleeper buses, the
assistants were often pushy and rude, but the assistant on this local bus was a
friendly older man who treated the passengers with respect and performed his
duties earnestly.
The
bus became overcrowded quickly. Katie and I had seats, but others had to stand
in the aisle. A woman climbed onto the bus carrying a large basket filled with
her products to sell. The assistant helped her on, seating her on a ledge next
to the driver. When a seat became available, he made sure she got it, leaving
her basket up front under the watchful eye of the bus driver.
We
passed by Marble Mountains, a popular tourist site. There are five mountains, each
one named after one of the five elements. The area is famous for its stone
sculptures and carvings. Each mountain has a cave entrance and many tunnels. During
the war there was a Marine Helicopter facility near the mountains. Also,
according to William Broyles book “Brothers in Arms”, there was a Viet Cong hospital
hidden in the area at the same time.
In
Hoi Anh we all got off in an open lot, the end of the line. We were approached
by men wanting to take us to our hotel on the backs of motorbikes. The hotel
was several miles away at the other end of town and across a bridge, on Cam Nam
Island. Katie and I each had a back pack and a purse, a “manly bag” in my case.
It didn’t seem wise to hop on the back of these small scooters and try to hang
on to our baggage. And besides, if I’m on a motorcycle, I want to be the guy
driving, it’s a trust issue. We declined
their offers and walked.
It was
a long hot walk. We stopped for lunch and to cool off. Hoi Anh is a beautiful
old town. The buildings are rustic and colorful. Right before the bridge going
over to Cam Nam Island, we passed through a large open produce and fish “wet”
market, bustling with people.
Our
hotel was called Homeland River Home Stay and was not really a hotel. The Home
Stay program is worldwide and allows students or tourists to rent rooms in a
family’s home with the idea of getting to know the people more intimately and
immersing in their culture. Our Home
Stay was three stories tall with many rooms.
The bottom of the building was the lobby and open to the street. The
family’s living quarters were behind the lobby with the kitchen in the back.
The
family who owned and ran the Home Stay consisted of a husband, wife, son,
daughter-in-law and two grandmas. We
stayed there for four nights and only saw the husband a handful of times. Thuy
(pronounced Twee) ran the place with the help of her son and his wife, also named
Thuy, who was pregnant. Not to confuse the two women, when Katie and I talked to
each other about them, we referred to the mother as “Thuy One” and the
daughter-in-law as “Thuy Two”. We couldn’t help but wonder if “Thuy Twee” was
in the hopper.
The
back of the hotel faced the river. A path ran along the river to a bridge and the
main part of town. It was about a twenty minute walk. The open air dining area
in back of the Home Stay overlooked the river. Thuy One was an excellent cook. Her
fried spring rolls were delicious, especially with a glass of Tiger beer. This
became our appetizer of choice. I especially liked breakfast, Vietnamese
coffee, eggs and/or fried rice and a crusty baguette with butter and jam. In
the mornings we watched fishermen paddle by on their boats, and in an open
field on the opposite side, locals tended a commune garden and cows grazed. One
of the Thuys checked on us periodically and asked if we needed anything more. Any
request we made was met with “I can do for you”.

Our
first day, we met a couple from Victoria BC. This was their second time at the
Home Stay and they had become quite close to the family. They were leaving for
home the next morning, after traveling extensively for six months. They
encouraged us to take over their room which had a balcony overlooking the river,
since our room didn’t have a view or balcony. Thuy didn’t have a problem with
the plan, so we moved in the next day. For the next three mornings and evenings,
we sat out on the balcony watching the river flow by.
Living
at the Home Stay and interacting with this sweet, beautiful family, I frequently
thought of a comment Anthony Bourdain uses on his show, “It doesn’t get any
better than this”.
Danang
6 May 2016 2:06 AM (8 years ago)

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Train Depot |
We took the overnight train from Phan Rang-Thap Cham to Danang. I like to call it the "cockroach express", the train car was infested. We were in the regular seats, the uncomfortable kind. We decided not to get a sleeper compartment because they were tiny and you had to share the space with strangers and probably cockroaches. The last time I was in Vietnam I had to battle critters. On guard duty, which I pulled once a week, the bunkers had rats, poisonous centipedes and lots of mosquitoes to deal with. The bathrooms on the train were nasty and got progressively worse as the night went on.
It was an excruciatingly long night of traveling. For the first couple of hours, when it was still light outside, Katie and I enjoyed watching the countryside roll by. The landscape looked like the Vietnam I remembered, acres of rice paddies with lush green mountains in the background. Missing were the thatched huts and small villages, replaced by substantial concrete houses, paved roads and small shops.
Katie, along with everyone else in our car, eventually fell asleep. That left just me and the cockroaches. Early in the morning, when it was still dark, a group of young men entered the train and came into our car. They were talking
and laughing, not seeming to care that everyone on the train was trying to sleep. They began playing cards in the back of the car and never bothered to lower their voices. When I stood up to stretch my legs, they all became quiet and looked up at me as if I might be some sort of authority who was going to come down on them. I smiled and gave them a friendly wave. They waved back and returned to their boisterous card game. I could not be mad at these young men who were trying to have a little fun. I was happy they were alive. During the war there weren't any young civilian men. They were all fighting and dying, for either the South or the North. After a couple of stops, the young men exited the train and we returned to the steady rhythmic sound of wheels on track. We were relieved to finally arrive in Danang at six am.
 |
Hotels along the Han river |
Even though my basecamp at LZ Bayonette was only about 60-70 miles south of Danang, I had only been there one time. I flew out of the Airbase for my five days of R&R in Tai Pei, Taiwan. My flight was filled with American Marines from Khe Sanh. They told me about the conditions there, the almost constant shelling by the North Vietnamese and their having to live and crawl around in the mud. This was a rowdy bunch of guys and they were determined to have a good time in Tai Pei and I can't think of anyone who deserved it more.
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China Beach |
Danang is Vietnam's third largest city with around 750,000 people. Our hotel was within walking distance of My Khe beach, the twenty mile long curved stretch of beautiful white sand that we used to call China Beach. Many US soldiers took in-country R&R there, but I don't think they would recognize the area today. Danang is on the way to becoming a premier tourist destination. Large hotels and resorts are popping
 |
A community garden, one of many throughout the city |
up everywhere, especially near and along the beach. The Han River runs right through the center of town and both sides are being developed for tourists as well.
 |
Dragon bridge across the Han river
|
If a friend was traveling to Southeast Asia, I would highly recommend a few days in Danang. The city is open and spread out, not nearly as hectic as Ho Chi Minh City or Hanoi. The hotels and restaurants are good and the beach and mountains are beautiful. All over Vietnam the people were friendly and gracious and that was true for Danang as well. Also Hoi Anh is only about an hour's bus ride away, and one should not visit Vietnam without going to Hoi Anh, which was our next destination.