What did the letter in the sealed envelope say? I don’t know. I didn’t open it because I wanted her to know the truth. I felt that I would be with her for the rest of her life and when she would find that I told her the truth, she would always trust me to care for her and never have to apologize if she was wrong in her judgment of me.
THE PEACOCK, THE BATS AND THE MOSQUITOES
Painting by Debra L. Hoover
Many interesting and some unforgettable things happened during our travels. One week began in Cleveland, Ohio and ended in Dayton, Ohio. Incidentally, we had an exceptional trumpet player with us named Snooky Young who later became a national sensation. Go to “Google” to see him.
The week started in Cleveland at the Trianon Ballroom. Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. What a beautiful place. The state was huge, the space for the rhythm section was large, and had a separate platform for me and my bass. We were as proud as peacocks. The orchestra felt and played like we were on top of the world. When we finished there Thursday night, we packed our things on the school bus and were on our way to a small mining town in West Virginia. My personal blanket was pulled over my head and like the rest of the guys, I was settled down for a midnight ride. By the way, the night after West Virginia was Dayton, Ohio. As usual, the contract for the gig in West Virginia read that we would be paid off by the named individual at intermission. Our manager said that he would meet us in Dayton at the intermission. The West Virginia orchestra leader would pick up the money.
The dance area was on the second floor. I usually estimated the size of attendance by the number of people arriving before the starting time, plus the number at the starting time. We were going to have an overflowing crowd at this affair in the little mining town. The orchestra played well and the place was packed.
At the intermission, there were a few people still arriving. I saw one fellow come in with five girls and when he found the pocket with the money, it all came out and I doubt he could tell one bill from another. He was feeling pretty good.
Our orchestra members went to see the man who was to pay the orchestra. After about 45 minutes, they still hadn’t found the money man. They began to ask questions and confront some of the orchestra members. By then, the sheriff arrived and from the stage, he told the people the situation. They still were not satisfied and had become a bit unruly. He called for help. They came and the whole second floor was cleared, to our relief, the mob around the bus had to be cleared away, too, while we loaded our instruments on and were safe inside.
Two police cars, one in front and one in the back, escorted us until we were out of danger. This was in the mountains of West Virginia, there were no guard rails and every curve was potential danger. Still in the middle of the night, we were finally out of the dangerous part of the mountains, on our way to Dayton, Ohio. What a relief. But as luck would have it, boys will be boys. During a little horse play, they had loosened the right half of the bus windshield and somehow it came out.
We tried to fix it to no avail. I wasn’t expecting any success with the repair effort. There were only about 25 of us. Out of about 250 musicians, finding one with mechanical skill would be a miracle.
We each put our blankets over our head traveling at 55 and 60 miles per hour, we had to fight the night bugs and mosquitoes flying in the bus as best we could for the next several hundred miles. Once in awhile I would peep out of one corner of the blanket and duck back in as I saw and heard the little bugs coming through the open window at me. I was wondering if possibly any bats might be passing through, also.
We were all tired when we reached Dayton, Ohio. The two or three hours sleep was not of much help.
We did well that Saturday night, however, I forgot to mention that my friend Paul Brown, was the guitar player on that summer trip. You have to read my earlier blogs to know my friend, Paul. Perhaps, this will give you a little idea of who Paul was.
That Saturday night, we were all dead tired, but like real troopers, we held forth until the final note was played.
When we played the hottest number, “White Heat” at one point I was upstage in front. The bass was placed on its side on the floor and I was straddling it like a horse and “Cab” Dixon was riding on the back. I was “whipping” the bass in time with the music. It was a hot number, and funny.
I glanced over at Paul and he was sound asleep, his head down and eyes closed and playing “White Heat” with the orchestra and he never missed a beat. ha
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