Road Stories

For close to 25 years Linda and I roared across the country playing anywhere from 4-8 concerts per week. Some of our tours were over ten weeks long, which is 80 days. We both had 80 pairs of underwear, 100 pairs of socks, 80 Tee shirts, 70 or so concert shirts, and more of the like, all to cover the long trips. 

So the topic here is - laundry.

We didn't have time to stop in laundromats every two weeks. Linda would need 6 washing machines and 8 dryers, meaning that everyone else in these places would get mad at her (and me) for "hogging" them. So we finally found the solution: put the laundry into boxes and send it all home.

So for years we knew where all the UPS and FedEx places were in towns we went to all. We'd come roaring in with laundry stuffed into Walmart bags, the people at the counter would shove them into boxes and off they'd go. And off we'd go in the direction of the gig that night.

Of course when we'd finally get home months later, there' be a neatly piled stack of FedEx boxes on our porch. Linda would be on laundry patrol as we both unloaded our little motor home and simultaneously repacked it for the next tour leaving in two days. I played an average of 250 performances every year during these times.

I look back now on this long and thunderous career and thank the lucky stars for all that was thrown at us in those days. Now I'm semi retired. No more long trips. My next gig is right here in Lapeer in about 3 weeks, and it already seems like a long drive to me. I like my cabin and recliner. I like to sit on the porch and have a tomato, or maybe watch for our resident fox to go buy. Sometimes we go down to the river and hang out for few hours. Last week a bald eagle was circling above us, scoping the river for an errant fish dinner.

80 pairs of underwear. I'm reminded of it every morning when I pull the drawer out and see them all neatly stacked in there by Linda. May the saints be praised for keeping us safe all during that million miles we drove. Thanks for reading. 

This is a long article as I'm writing it for my online autobiography. I hope you are able read it and learn something about surviving in this business.

How do you play a concert when you're sick? Well, I'm thinking of the time in Florida when I had food poisoning following a Sunday night dinner at a local place in Jupiter, Florida. I had it bad. I would learn that they'd undercooked the shrimp, which are bottom dwellers and eat all kinds of stuff you don't want to know about. But the problem was this: my schedule for the week was:

1) Monday night concert at a high end retirement home. (Jerry Seinfeld's mother lived there and I'd always talk to her before performing.)

2) Tuesday evening teaching an adult education class to 400 people at a university. They'd all paid in advance.

3) Wednesday night at another high end seniors community outside of Boca Raton. This was a place I played at every year and people drove in from long distances to attend.

4) Thursday teaching a daytime class in Sarasota, followed by an evening performance at a gated community club.

5) Friday: go back to the east side of Florida and put on a pool/piano exhibition for a private club. (I was a semi-professional pool player in those days, so would combine a pool exhibition with a piano sitting next to it.)

6) Saturday: Two sold out performances at a northern Florida concert hall, one in the afternoon, the second in the evening.

7) Sunday:  Two sold out performances at a synagogue, also in northern Florida and again in afternoon and evening. 

The solution? Go out onto the stages and play the performances. Linda would arrange for couches just offstage where I could crash during intermission and afterwards. My strength level was still very weak from the poisoning, and in fact Linda had to drive our little motorhome from place to place so I could sleep in the back and build up strength. The next day, Monday, my gig was only 30 minutes away. I slept until 5:00 in the afternoon. No, I couldn't eat dinner and had skipped everything during the day, only drinking water. So here goes.

1)  I had no idea when I'd be feeling better, and the 1 hour Monday night went fast and easy, other than I felt like crap. I said "hello" to Mrs. Seinfeld at the beginning but disappeared after the performance back into our little mobile home. (It was nicknamed "Road Abode"). We drove back to the Home Depot lot in Jupiter (we parked on this lot for many years when in the area.) I hoped I didn't puke in bed.

2)  The Tuesday evening gig was right in Jupiter.  I arrived over an hour early and slept in the green room before the class convened. Teaching the class and playing a few tunes was easier than full length two-hour concerts. I was still very sick, but hoping to feel better in the morning. It didn't happen.

3)  I woke up Wednesday morning feeling even sicker. Had joint pains and upset stomach problems. We went to the next senior's community and I slept for two hours before going inside. Hot and cold flashes were attacking me all the time. On stage I smiled, played hard, and never let on I was sick. (This is something I did every time I didn't feel good. No one should ever attempt to garner the sympathy stuff from the audience. Give them what they came here for. If you can't do that, get off the stage.)

4)  Awoke Thursday morning wondering if I was getting better yet. I wasn't, but still taught the Sarasota class in Florida. I was still sick and couldn't go with our friends to dinner afterwards.  Joint pains still hurting plus the nausea wouldn't go away.  Plus dizziness. I never dreamed I could feel this crappy.

5)  We went back to east Florida and I put on the pool/piano exhibition. Their local hero wanted to play me a game afterwards and he quickly lost. He wanted to play another game but I told them I was on a tight schedule and had to leave. We went out to our van and Linda started driving us to the concert hall 200 miles north for tomorrow's gigs. How long is this poisoning going to last??? I still felt terrible but could only bounce around in the back as Linda navigated construction zones and stop-and-go things where flagmen directed one-way traffic.

6) Saturday I woke up feeling the worst I'd felt all week. I was shaking and weak, but the concert series had advertised me for six months and had sold out in the first two days. I told Linda that once I got onto stage I'd know if I could play it or not. (Incidentally, if I didn't play it this small concert venue had to refund everyone all their money.) We moved into a hotel room near the concert hall when we got into town.  Even though I passed out into the bed upon arriving the night before, I still needed a lot of sleep for the strength to play two 2-hour performances the next day. Two cousins showed up at this concert, so they and Linda arranged for a couch offstage again. I somehow pulled off the afternoon performance. I played the first half, crashed on the couch during the intermission, then played the 2nd half. I was trying my best to be at 100%, but it was brutal playing through the pain, shakiness, and tiredness. And there was another performance coming up at 7:00. Linda drove me back to our hotel where I slept soundly until she woke me up at 6:00.  "It's time. We have to go back..."

The evening performance was the same as the previous one. I have no idea where I got the strength, but possibly the fact that I was on a stage doing what I love to a packed house of many hundreds of people gave me the energy. I managed to finish it somehow.

7)  Sunday: I again woke up still sick. I couldn't believe this thing had poisoned me so bad. We drove 100 miles to the synagogue, again facing afternoon and evening performances. We did the same routine: I slept in the motor home until 5 minutes before start time, then went inside. A lady was present who was a neighbor and classmate of mine when we went to grade school and I hadn't seen since 1953. That helped a little. Again I slept during the intermission, then finished the concert. Again, I couldn't go with our hosts to dinner. Then we returned for the evening performance and...

The sickness lifted. I couldn't believe it. I could feel it "evaporating" from my body. Suddenly I could stand up for more than a few seconds, and somehow I wanted to talk to people. And I became terribly hungry. Incredibly hungry. It seemed like miracle. Seven days of sickness from undercooked shrimp.

This time we went with the hosts for dinner. I think I ate two dinners, it was definitely more than one. My arms had stopped shaking. The joint pain was gone, and when dinner was finished I actually felt like driving again towards the next gig.

I was shaken by this experience and feel lucky to have been able to pull it off. And - I could never eat shrimp again for the next ten years, and when I finally did start I examine them very carefully. Thanks for reading.