Rowlee's 3Rs : May 2020

Part One

(Copyright Patrick Rowlee, 2020)

Ever since his father died when the boy was eight, Kerig Knox had a great hollow place inside him. With no one in his family capable of providing him comfort back then, Kerig sought refuge from his loss in music. Mostly on his mother’s car radio, but only when allowed and then the volume had to be set low. And later, on his tan GE transistor radio, which he held up to his ear while walking or set upright when he laid down. At first, Kerig only listened to KUTY, his hometown’s 500-watt station. But then, he began twisting the dial to 93 KHJ or 1110 KRLA, which featured even more Top 40 songs than “Kutie.” In 1962 and ‘63, heartthrob crooners and girl bands dominated the top spots while singing of lost loves, crushes, boyfriends, girlfriends, and hot rods. But as the Sixties blossomed, soul and rock music began to excite and stimulate Kerig, filling his void for the first time since his dad’s death.

Music heard on television was a different matter. At first, his favorite genre was theme songs for various popular shows: Peter Gunn, Andy Griffith Show, The Jack Benny Program, Outer Limits, and – of course – his favorite. (The Twilight Zone theme was, by default, Kerig’s favorite TV theme, the whistling ditty on Andy Griffith’s program placing second). The themes of Outer Limits and TZ barely qualified as music, but both jingles transported Kerig to places he could never visit - to other worlds that captivated his mind and spirit. These sci-fi escapes served as short-term respites from the boredom and desert drab of Palmdale, California, a small town on the fringe of the Mojave Desert.

Although early on Kerig Knox watched old-fogie shows, such as The Andy Williams Show, Sing Along With Mitch, Lawrence Welk, Lennon Sisters, and The King Family, his mind expanded and occasionally exploded while discovering rock-oriented programs Shindig, Hullabaloo, The Lloyd Thaxton Show, Shebang, Ninth Street West, and later - In Concert and Midnight Special. The major exception to the rule of old-folks shows being boring was The Ed Sullivan Show on Sunday nights on CBS from 7 to 9pm, where he discovered the respective brilliance of Louis Armstrong, Jimmy Durante, Bobby Darin, Frank Sinatra, Barbara Streisand, Pearl Bailey, and too many crooners to list. But their collective brilliance had suddenly been eclipsed and soon forgotten. On the evening of February 9, 1964, The Beatles of Liverpool, England appeared on Ed’s broadcast for the first of three consecutive Sunday appearances. Nothing before or since matched that night for Kerig. It was as though the musical world had been both bombed and resurrected at once; and on a show watched by almost every American. From that moment on, British Invasion and American Resurgence performers replaced the lounge singers, crooners, and other outdated musical acts. Each Sunday Kerig watched at least one new musical artist: The Rolling Stones, Dave Clark Five, Beach Boys, Supremes, Temptations, Kinks, Doors, Mamas & Papas, Lovin’ Spoonful, and Janis Joplin.

Music then became an entity Kerig could not only hear, but own and enjoy whenever he wished, transporting him momentarily from the dry, beige, dusty, fatherless place of Palmdale. Every Saturday between 1964 and 1966 Kerig and older sister Trixie trudged a mile and a half through patches of desert and along Palmdale Boulevard’s gravel shoulders to Radio Palmdale, a radio and TV sales & service store with a record department large enough to carry every Top 40 single of the week. The little black plastic discs with large holes and paper labels became Kerig’s newest friends and companions. After his mother purchased an impressive cherry roll-top desk with a turntable inside, Kerig played all his 45 records on it… until his mother arrived home from work or the grocery store. When he saw or heard her pull up in their driveway, he pushed “reject,” turned the set off, rolled the cover back in place, and joined his mother car-side where he assisted Dorothy Knox with toting in their weekly groceries from the garage. If by chance Kerig found Trixie in a good mood, he would retreat to her bedroom and spin a few singles on her portable player before dinner. At first, he bought the boy and girl singer hits, but then spread out to novelty records (“Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda” by Alan Sherman, “They’re Coming to Take Me Away – Ha Ha Hee Hee” by Napoleon XIV, and Roger Miller’s “Dang Me”). But soon after, The Beach Boys, Four Seasons, and Jan & Dean populated his musical world. But, all that changed when the Fab Four landed in New York just ten weeks after President Kennedy’s assassination.

Kerig began buying Beatles’ singles every week. Each Saturday he spent exactly $1.04 for the single of his choice. Most weeks he bought a Beatles 45, but once or twice a month the skinny fifth grader purchased a new hit song from other artists. Little Anthony & the Imperials, The Beach Boys, Gary Lewis & the Playboys, Martha & the Vandellas, Lulu, and Leslie Gore landed on Kerig’s musical planet, only to find Miss Diana Ross and the Supremes already enthroned as royalty with an entire collection of songs. Why did his first album feature a female Motown act wearing floor-length dresses and dancing in synch? The Supremes’ album of greatest hits for the first three years of their prolific career had been gifted him by his father’s friends Andy and Aubrey Kimball. Although spare in its art design, the front cover featured the three vocalists standing side by side while pretending to sing. Each wore a sparkly white and gold floor-length gown that showcased their beauty, but a slickly curated record of girl songs focusing on boys did not transport him to another place.

Not until eight years later did Kerig Knox fully experience an album. During his freshman year in college the eighteen-year-old youth, long-haired and hippified, purchased an album that not only changed his life but transported him. The album The Allman Brothers Live at the Fillmore East he bought on a whim because its cover made such an impression.

Instead of bright, colorful artwork, the Allmans’ third album featured black-and-white covers, front and back. The six long-haired young men sat or stood on or in front of their band’s equipment. The four young men in the center resembled hardcore motorcycle clubbers while the bookends looked like a black hippy and a white hillbilly with hippy leanings. Looking more relaxed than any group Kerig had seen on an album cover before, he saw more than mere unity, he sensed and felt their oneness. Sharing a laugh about something, the band looked like six brothers, which is who they were. On the back was a similar image of six other men – all looking even more rag-tag and disheveled than the group on the front. Five road staffers sat, leaned, or stood in the same setting as the front cover – a collection of musical instruments and electronics housed in black crates, trunks, and cases stenciled “Allman Bros Fragile,” “ALL BROS,” or “THE ALLMAN BROTHERS BAND LIVE AT FILLMORE EAST,” the last being the album’s title. Above them and superimposed over the concert hall’s ancient brick wall were the album’s acknowledgments, song listings, and a framed profile shot of a sixth roadie who apparently hadn’t made it for the group photo. Four of the six held tall open cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer.

Flipping the album back to front, Kerig felt such energy and peace from the band that he promptly plopped down a princely sum of $9.98 plus tax for the double live album. Leaving the Licorice Pizza on Ventura Boulevard in LA, he drove an hour and a half straight home and put needle to vinyl a minute after switching off the ignition on his 1961 beige and off-white Chevy Impala. Sitting cross-legged in his family’s wood-and-glass den with a fire blazing behind him, Kerig studied the front cover until all four sides of the live blues and rock album concluded. By the time he finished the seventh and final cut on, “Whipping Post,” he had become so bonded with the album that he began to be physically drawn into the cover.

In the blink of an eye, Kerig Knox found himself inside a New York City concert hall first named the Commodore Theater, then the Village Theater, and finally in 1968, The Fillmore East. Walking around the darkened theater lit only by the light show, Kerig took everything in. The date on his glow-in-the-dark wristwatch read March 14, 1971 and the time two-thirty a.m. A voice over the PA system succinctly introduced the final act with, “Okay, the Allman Brothers Band,” followed by the emphatic drumming, slide guitar, and jazzy / bluesy keyboard playing of the ABB that open Willie McTell’s classic “Statesboro Blues.” How Kerig could be in New York City instead of the Mojave Desert and six months earlier, he had not a clue. All 2,654 seats had been sold out, but lots of single and pairs of seats sat empty. After six hours of shows preceding the 2:30 start time, some audience members had left while others roamed the interior – dancing in the aisles, gathering in front of the stage, or perching on catwalks far above the stage floor.

While Kerig wandered the former Vaudeville theater, he began fully realizing he had both teleported and time traveled; concepts he had only known from reading Jules Verne novels. He knew he couldn’t take any credit for his lucky accident, but he had three concerns: Would he be able to time travel again? Would he return to the future six months from now? And could he change the future by whatever he did or said tonight? Wanting to pull his head inside his shell and not be approached by anyone, he fought the temptation to isolate. Walking parallel to the stage, Kerig felt something touch his right butt cheek covered by his Levi 501 jeans. Turning around and expecting to see a pickpocket clutching his black leatherette wallet, he instead gazed upon a cherubic smile spread across the full-cheeked, round face of a girl between sixteen and nineteen years of age. Standing five feet tall and facing him just six feet away, Kerig zeroed in on the girl’s face. Her green eyes were so luminous they seemed to make everything around her disappear, except for the smile framed by a pair of luscious lips he yearned to touch and kiss.

Although “Hi there” was all she said, Kerig felt waves of shock flowing through his hands, arms, and loins, and reverberating throughout his body.

“Hi. Uh, excuse me, Miss. Did you happen to ---?”

“Did I happen to - pinch you on the derriere?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Oh, I apologize. It was purely intentional on my part.”

Intentional? Had she intended to say that, or had he misheard her? Maybe she said unintentional but before he could check, she said, “Yeah, you heard me right, Beautiful.”

Having nothing new to say, Kerig smiled and said “intentional” as a question.

“You got it. So, what’s your name or do I call you Beautiful from now on?”

“Well, suit yourself, but people call me Kerig.”

Without asking for a repeat, she pronounced his name perfectly - as though she had always known it. Then, it was her turn. “I’m Gwendolyn,” but you can call me anything you like. I prefer you call me ‘Gwinny, which will make you the first and perhaps last person I will allow to call me that.”

He felt high. To be exact, he felt both faint and exuberant. Am I having a love at first sight experience or what? “Okay, Gwinny. Can we sit or dance or even sit and dance?”

Laughing easily, she maintained her gorgeous smile. “Well, you are funny and cute. Yeah, let’s sit where we can see and hear each other.”

Pointing to the lobby, they walked side by side toward the open double doors. A cool hand inserted itself into his and they walked hand in hand out of the auditorium and over to a dark velvet love seat in a private corner of the Fillmore East lobby. “Perfect,” they both said at once.

“So, Handsome; er, Kerig, what brings you here?”

Not wanting to confess to time travel, he took the easy way out. “My love for the Allman Brothers.”

“Really? You’re that into them, Handsome?”

Right then, Kerig hit a crossroads. He could either assume Gwinny was just playing or that she really is this silly, outgoing, and cute-as-hell girl. Give her the benefit of the doubt. You just met her a minute ago and you’re already questioning her sincerity? Chill out, Man. Get to know Gwinny before you start judging her. He wanted to say to himself, “Look who’s talking?” but that made no sense. Am I so rattled that I am arguing with my inner self and losing the debate?

“Mmm hmm,” he answered, like a four-year-old, because he hadn’t the presence of mind to speak. Humming or ‘mmm-hmming’ he could do but opening his mouth and engaging with this new creature in the complex language of English seemed daunting, if not impossible.

“What’s wrong, Sweetie? Did a kitty get your tongue?”

Realizing the futility of remaining embarrassed, he took a breath and asked instead, “No, the kitty didn’t get it. Would you like it?”

“Oh, yes please. How yummy.” Taking his head in her hands Gwendolyn gently pulled him closer until their lips met. After several seconds, he felt her warm, soft tongue gently enter his mouth. Although a surprise, it was a wonderful surprise and amazing moment. Not knowing what to do since he had never French-kissed before, he let his tongue relax. And after realizing how passionate Gwinnie had become, Kerig cast aside all inhibition and reciprocated. What an experience, he continually marveled as his entire body tingled and glowed from the experience.

As the band kicked into “One Way Out,” Gwinny suggested they watch the show closer, so they retraced their steps without breaking their hand clasp and returned to the auditorium proper. “Hey, let’s sit there,” she declared. A quilt consisting of all the hues of a rainbow spread over a twelve-by-twelve-foot area with no one occupying it. Gwinny said: “This is our spot.” Lifting a far corner, she pulled out a brown wicker picnic basket. Opening a half lid, she asked: “Something to drink?”

So, they picnicked, drinking Cokes, dining on fruit, cheese, and pita bread while watching the Allman Brothers play a set best described as perfect. Perfect music makes life perfect, including this experience – be it a dream, time travel, or hallucination, he thought. Consulting his watch again, Kerig figured they had only three hours left. What would happen after that was anyone’s guess.

Gwinny and Kerig lay snuggled and intertwined on the quilt Gwinny had finished making that day while the picnic basket acted as their pillow. Between making out and hugging, they watched the band perform not more than a hundred feet away. Although no one once jumped around or screamed onstage, the Brothers’ show had plenty of excitement. The audience didn’t roar at the end of each protracted jam, but their collective energy maintained a consistently high level despite the late hour. Kerig and Gwinny did nap together during intermission, awaking together and then resuming their kisses and caresses. During the longest song of the night, the instrumental Mountain Jam lasting thirty-four minutes and twenty seconds, the couple took turns whispering in the other’s ear. At first, they teased each other good-naturedly, but soon their talk turned to confessions and even the revealing of secrets. Although they hadn’t had sex, they had become as intimate as Kerig had ever been with another human. There was such electricity between them he considered it a synchronized, spontaneous buzz whose joy knew no limits. Amazing. And all in one four-hour period. The only taste of heaven Kerig would ever have in this world.

After “Mountain Jam” came to an elegant close, a man not in the band appeared onstage. Wearing a straw, bent-up cowboy hat and farmer’s coveralls, the Allman Brothers’ friend and fellow Capricorn recording artist Elvin Bishop approached the center, unoccupied microphone stand and began a song called “Drunken Hearted Boy.” As the lyrics fell away, the band engaged in the most disciplined, yet carefree jam Kerig had ever heard. But what stood out way beyond anyone else’s playing was the slide guitar work of the twenty-four-year-old founder and leader of The Allman Brothers Band, Duane Allman. Both kids sat and, with mouths wide open, stared at Duane’s hands while he slid the round, hollow glass over his guitar’s neck. In the suddenly quiet concert hall, all that could be heard were the results of Allman plucking and sliding those six strings. Both knew they were observing a once-in-a-lifetime performance by an up-and-coming musician who managed to stun a sell-out crowd into silence. The only comparison Kerig could make in his mind with this performance was the time he heard an aging Igor Stravinsky conduct the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra. He remembered that the legendary composer would die in less than a month, on April the sixth while staying at the nearby Marriott Essex House in Manhattan. If Kerig shared this tidbit of future news with anyone, even this new girl, he could spend his future days and nights somewhere besides a concert hall; perhaps a psychiatric hospital. Okay, maintain, Kerig. Maintain your joy. Don’t let her see you crack.

When the song ended, cries of “More, more!” resounded all around them. Duane Allman stepped to the microphone and informed the hundreds who had stayed for the end that it was six in the morning (when it was seven a.m.). “Hey, that’s all for tonight.” More yelling from the crowd. “Look here, it’s six in the morning. This will be our third record and you’re all on it. We ain’t going to be sending you no checks, but thanks--,“ and then he laughed while Berry Oakley, their bassist, nearly collapsed from fatigue and laughter.

As the sounds of the crowd lowered, Kerig took Gwendolyn by her adorable chubby cheeks and tried planting a kiss on her mouth, but before his lips could reach hers, the scene changed. He no longer was in the Fillmore East sitting on a colorful quilt and sharing space with Gwinny. He found himself once more in his family’s wood and glass den with the fire behind him almost out.

Looking at the stack of albums laying before him on the carpeted floor, Kerig wondered two things: Could he inhabit the worlds of these other records and would he ever see his new love again?

Rowlee's 3Rs

Thursday, May 14, 2020

Rowlee's 3Rs : Album Worlds, Pt. 1

Album Worlds, Pt. 1