I will be the first to admit that a musician's life is, at times, not all it's cracked up to be. There are times that you make more money than you can count and others when you don't know where your next meal is coming from. You have to deal with smoky bars, shifty club owners, crooked agents, and even unreliable musicians at times. With that said, I would not give it up for anything in the world - in fact, I highly recommend it.
A short time after I had moved to Westchester, I was working with pianist George Candreva on a rhythm and blues project. In the very early stages, I was on the guitar, George was on organ/keyboards and Gary Schwartz was on drums. Gary was a new acquaintance of mine and a fine drummer. Since those days we have played a lot together and I have come to regard him as a dear friend.
Our first day of auditions for a bassist and singer turned out to be a bust. The people we had scheduled either couldn't make it, got lost or had canceled. The three of us spent the entire day playing jazz standards. We enjoyed ourselves immensely and the music really sounded good. After several hours we concluded that we had a great group right there. We didn't need a bassist or a singer. We decided to form our jazz organ trio a la Jimmy Smith/Wes Montgomery under the guise of the "Affirmation Trio".
Our first gig as the "Affirmation Trio" was at a club called ZaBar & Grill. Gary knew the owner and warned us of his preoccupation with things "looking good". Considering that this gig had the potential of a long term engagement, George and I went out and bought new clothes for the job. I had purchased a striking purple suit with a black stripe running diagonally across the jacket. The day of the gig was hot and muggy and the forecast was calling for thunder showers. With my purple zoot suit on and the gear loaded in the cars, George and I took of for the gig, leaving plenty of time.
While following George on the Taconic, I got caught behind a couple of slow drivers and George sped off, unaware that I was no longer behind him. I wasn't worried however, since we had both taken the precaution of carrying a copy of the directions.
That's when it all started. The rain - no - it was more of a monsoon. You could barely see three feet in front of the car. While peering through the windshield, I noticed that the wipers were slowing down and all of a sudden I realized that my car was beginning to slowly, but decidedly, die. The wipers were the first to go, followed by the radio, the defogger, and last but not least, the lights. I suddenly found myself chugging along at 20 mph in the dark during a deluge, with only the lights of the cars whizzing by to illuminate my way.
After traveling this way for about twenty or thirty minutes, I finally saw a sign for route 84.
I could barely make out the lettering on the sign. I didn't know which exit was east and which was west, so I guessed. As it turned out, I guessed wrong. I finally saw a sign that read "Next Rest Area - 1 Mile". I didn't quite make it. The car died about a quarter mile from the rest stop.
I locked the car and ran to the rest stop while holding my jacket over my head. The rain began to fall harder. I got to the rest area looking like a drowned rat. With only about an hour to hit time at the gig, I immediately called the club to inform George and Gary about my problem. Neither of them were at the club. So I called Gary's wife, Delores. She was planning on coming to the gig, so I hoped she could come and help me out. She said that she would try to find me in spite of the fact that I couldn't tell her my exact location.
I hung up the phone and just stood there, soaked from head to toe. A stranger then approached me. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation," he said, "but, by any chance, are you a musician?" Trying to be polite, I said yes and turned back to the telephone. I wasn't particularly in the mood for small talk, given my present situation. He persisted in asking the usual questions as I continued dialing. "What instrument do you play? What kind of music do you play? Who have you performed with? After answering all his questions with curt, one word answers, I got the number of some cab companies from the operator. Every one I called told me that, due to the weather, they would not be able to get to me for at least an hour.
Shortly after hanging up the phone, my new found friend approached me, eager for more conversation. We talked for a few minutes as I described my predicament and he told me that he was studying music at college and was on his way there when the storm hit. To my surprise, he offered to drive me to my gig while pointing proudly to his beat-up
volkswagon. I glanced at his car and suggested that we might not fit with all of the gear I had.
"No problem!" He exclaimed, "you would not believe some of the things that I've fit into this car." I argued no further, merely for the sake of not wanting to hear about his exploits of fitting extremely large things into his VW bug. We hopped in and drove to my abandoned car. How we fit two guitars, my rig, speaker cabinet, pa system, gig bag, the two of us and all of the stuff he was bringing to college is still beyond my comprehension.
We got to the club with about 15 minutes to spare. George and Gary came running out to greet me. Gary informed me that the club owner wanted us on a little early, since the place was packed, as George and my good samaritan buddy began bringing my stuff into the club. I got dry, got on stage and we began to play. I made sure my college-bound friend was well taken care of with food and drink. I am sorry he left without letting me express my appreciation more formally.
After the gig George and I went to rescue my car. We approached my car just as the state troopers were about to impound it. After pleading with them for half an hour, they decided not to impound the car if I paid for the tow truck that already had my car up in the air. The tow fee was just about as
much as I made on the gig that night, not to mention the cost of the repair. I guess it worked out in the end, since we were hired at
Za-bar & Grill every week for the next several months. Like I said, I would not give it up for anything - and I highly recommend it.
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