Thousands of intelligent good-looking readers
Before we ever had any Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan recordings,
we were working hotels and lounges over the eastern states, booked by the ABC agency.
The four week gig at Nick Yanko’s Greek restaurant in Akron was one of the worst.
Nick loved the belly dancer, but treated our trio with no respect at all.
He didn’t like us or our music because we were different… too original.
At first we tried to please, but after a while we didn’t care,
and stopped taking crap from Yanko and his headwaiter.
It was a rough month.
On the winter day we arrived in Akron, as always, we looked for a place to live.
We finally rented a flat in an old two story house. Not a nice place.
To get it we had lie to the landlady, saying that we would be there for a long time.
When you’re in deep trouble there is no friend like a good lie.
Our dog Brubeck was with us on the road. He was a sweetheart,
and we trusted him alone while we were at work.
Brubeck is one of the main animals in this story.
Back at the club, the belly dancer would dance over to my drums,
and play the bongos with her chest.
Misty hated it, and got into a row with the owner,
who told her she was just a peon and the dancer was the star.
We had driven hundreds of miles to get there
and couldn’t quit because we had very little money and a guitar player to pay.
The next job in Albany, New York, was four weeks away.
We just sucked it up and played our sets.
The one friend we made in Akron on that trip was a tall dignified man
who could have played a movie senator.
He thought our music was great, and showed us all around town.
He was a bookie.
To add to the fun, I had to have two molars extracted by a dentist played by Boris Karloff.
It turned into a nightmare he called “dry sockets”,
and I overdosed on pain medication.
Misty had to walk me around in the snow for hours that night to keep me from passing out,
and maybe dying.
When things are really bad, a little light entertainment can mean a lot.
The house had registers in the floors for the furnace to send up warmth,
and one night we noticed Brubeck staring intently down into a register,
like the RCA dog looking into the Victrola horn.
On closer inspection we heard little peeping sounds from down in the pipe system.
The next day, Misty opened a kitchen drawer of pots and pans we didn’t use,
and saw two little rear ends scurrying to hide… a skinny one and a fat one.
The fat one was running behind, slipping around, not used to the exercise.
We decided that we liked them. After all, we didn’t have a lot of friends in Akron.
Misty started putting out a little dish of ice cream for them at night.
It was always gone in the morning.
A dog and some mice can get you through a bad time.