Before I get to the next round of questions, let me just relate one of the most odd experiences I've ever had performing. Back in the 1970's during times when The Brothers Four weren't performing, I took many solo gigs playing in lounges around the Seattle area. One of my regular stints was the lounge at the Holiday Inn in Belleview. I played 6 nights a week there (oh, how I long for a gig like that now - well, maybe not, actually.) Monday nights were always dead there - usually just me and the bar tender - and he could've done my show probably, having heard me night after night for so long. One Monday night I showed up (because I had to) very tired from a previous all-nighter for whatever reason. At that time I was doing my sit-down one-man band act, playing guitar or banjo, harmonica on a rack, foot-pedal bass with my right foot and hi-hat cymbal with my left. I had become so adept at this routine that I could have done it in my sleep. And - that night I did! I remember starting into some song and then the next thing I remember was waking up in the middle of it, singing and playing. It was the weirdest thing ever! After I finished the tune I looked over at the bartender to see if he would say anything or give me a funny look and he had no reaction whatsoever. Either he was in his own world at the time and wasn't paying attention (probably wearing ear-plugs) or I actually managed to pull it off somehow. I didn't fall off the stool at least! As to the best performance ever, well I'd have to say there were more than a few of those! One of the most memorable was the first show I did with The Brothers Four. We had rehearsed for about a week before heading for a two-week engagement at the Princess Hotel in Bermuda. I think I peed my pants on the first song - standing along-side three of my musical heroes, singing and playing "San Francisco Bay Blues" - yeah - I thought, "It can't get any better than this!" It took me quite awhile to come down from that high. Another similar moment was my first concert in Japan with The Bro4. I'd never been that far away from home, both physically and culturally, and to look out at 3000 people who had all come to hear us sing was pretty overwhelming. I think I was floating on air for that whole tour, traveling around Japan. What an adventure! As to the question of being star-struck - I have to say that I've been that way throughout my career. When I was a member of The New Yorkers (later changed to The Hudson Brothers), we opened once for The Doors. Talk about being star-stuck! I sat in the wings and watched in awe as a very young Jim Morrison and his band wove their magic. Over the years I've had the good fortune to meet many celebrities, and each time I get goose-bumps. You'd think I'd get jaded, but I have huge respect for people who have managed to become so successful that the whole world knows them. I'm still quite amazed that I can call some of these people friends. Hey - just go over to my celebrity photo pages and check out some of my special moments with Brenda Lee, Ian Tyson, Doug Kershaw, Dick and Tommy Smothers, Don Ho - you'll see star-struck! Meri thinks it's funny that I'm that way, because she's not like that at all. All she see's when she meets these folks is regular people. Maybe that's a more realistic view-point, but I still can't get over the fact that I've had an opportunity to share a moment with some of these celebs. I remember the first time I called up Chad Mitchell, out of the blue, to talk to him about booking his reformed Trio. Here's a guy that John Eads and I virtually worshipped in high school. He was so easy to talk to, knew who I was (which blew me away!) and when I got off the phone, kind of foaming at the mouth, Meri goes, "What got into you?" Well, how can you describe a moment like that? I had another similar experience just recently. We have the good fortune of marketing a CD called "Parkinsong, Volume One", which is a compilation of various artists who contributed tracks to raise money for Parkinson's research. (Yo - webmaster - we need to make this one available on my stuff-for-sale page!) The producer is Lloyd Maines, a well-known Austin record producer, performer and father of Dixie Chick, Natalie Maines (George Bush's favorite Texan.) We've been tossing around plans for a major Concert For A Cure and some of the artists on the CD would be incredible draws, like Bonnie Raitt, Greg Brown, Crosby & Nash, Hot Club of Cowtown, Steve Forbert, Lucy Kaplansky, Eliza Gilkyson, etc. (Does that make you want to buy this CD?) Anyway, I thought I'd call Lloyd and see if he could put me in touch with any of these artists. I looked him up on the Internet, found his home phone number (how is that possible?!!!) and called him. He's a legend and he just talked to me like a normal person - goose bumps - and told me that he really didn't know all of these artists (some he does) but he had only been involved in assembling the donated tracks and mastering the CD. I got off the phone and told Meri who I'd been talking with and she goes, "So...?" What can I say? - I'm just a kid about that stuff. In fact, it started when I was a kid. I still have my original little autograph book. The Limeliters signed it twice. I also have Crazy-Legs Hirsch in there (OK - I'm really old!) and John F. Kennedy. He came and spoke in the park in Medford, OR when he was campaigning for President and my Dad (the Park Director) got me back stage to shake his hand and get his signature. I suppose I could get some big bucks for that one on e-bay, but I think I'll keep it. Power outages? Yeah - lots of those. Fortunately, being an acoustic musician, I'm not totally devastated by such an occurrence. When I was with The Trio we had a few instances of PA failure, but we'd just step in front of the mics and keep going. In a theater you can usually get by pretty well without power - outdoors is different. Meri reminded me of a show I did up in Wyoming with my Denver band. This was an outdoor event and the band was totally amplified. The power went out and Meri somehow got everybody to turn on their Bic lighters for light (hah-hah!) and I stepped to the front of the stage and played my banjo as loud as I could. I've always joked about the venue not paying their power bill when this happens. Back in the 1960's I remember playing in a band called The Moguls. We were doing a dance at an armory somewhere in Oregon and we ran overtime. The management actually shut off the power in the middle of a song. So we packed up and went home. Luckily we got out the back door and avoided the riot that ensued from the bummed-out crowd! As Bob Hope would say, "Thanks for the memories..." And, as Hugh Hefner would say, "Thanks for the mammaries..."
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