For Curtains up by Mitchell Field
This story span several years so I hope you have the time. One rainy late afternoon I was at home sitting on the couch. It as the early 1970‘s and I was just starting my career as a professional musician. At 17 years old I had already been playing the drums for a few years. I played anywhere I could. Local high schools, the armoury across from Mount Royal and dances at the YMCA at Parc Avenue. Sometimes I made as much as $15 a show and I remember running down to Sam the Record Man and spending on the latest Beatles Album “Let it Be” .
According to the musicians union I wasn’t legally old enough to perform in nightclubs . I found a way around that by building an oversized bass drum that was big enough to crouch behind every time a major brawl broke out or there was a police raid. That bass drum saved my skins many times.After the last set ended at 3am and even though I had to be at Outremont High school in a few hours I would head over to Rockheads Paradise on St. Antoine. I became friendly with the bouncer who found it amusing that a Jewish white boy would be so interested in listening to Jazz and R n B music .He would look the other way and let me in.
Oscar Peterson and Oliver Jones got their start there and would go on to achieve international renown. Other amazing performers were content to toil in obscurity and simply make a living.
Loving what they do and doing what they loved.
Another great spot was the esquire show bar on Stanley Street. One night I was sitting right in front of the stage watching one of my idols Buddy Rich. Suddenly he stopped the show in the middle of the set and fired his trumpet player in front of everyone. The poor guy had played a minor 7th instead of a minor 7th flat 5. Buddy Rich was notorious for his temper and his pursuit of perfection. Many times he would pull the band bus over to the side of the road and leave musicians behind stranded miles from home if he felt they hadn’t performed up to his standards.
I also saw James Brown. He had a reputation for imposing fines on his band members if they were late to a rehearsal or if they’re shoes weren’t shined. He was teaching them to be professional. I never forgot that lesson. Even today my cymbals and shoes are always polished before a show. It may seem like a small detail but sometimes the small things are big things in disguise.
Watching those professional musicians at work gave me the opportunity to build a repertoire of vocal phrasings, drum fills, and guitar riffs which I still use to this day .
So there I was sitting on the couch minding my own business. I heard the phone ring of course it wasn’t my phone… I couldn’t afford one. It was the payphone located at the bottom of the rotting stairs that lead to my basement apartment.
I often left that payphone number for call-backs from club owners, promoters, musicians since I was always searching for work . Amazingly the person calling was looking for me. It was a booking agent that I had worked. He really believed in me despite my age and lack of experience.
He told me he had an emergency situation. The drummer he had hired for a major concert had been on a three day drinking binge and was on no shape to play. He desperately needed a last minute replacement. “Could you throw your drums in a cab and get to the Capital Theater on St. Catherine Street in 20mins.” He asked. I didn’t even hang up the phone. Eighteen minutes later as I got out of the cab I realized he hadn’ t told me who I would be drumming for. I went to the artists entrance where I was issued a backstage pass and instructed to set up my drums ASAP. Sound check was in 30mins.
The bass player with long grey hair saw me and called out “Hey do you know any drummers who are available immediately?” , “Yes” I said , “what style of music ?”, I asked. “The blues”, he replied.
“Who is the artist?”, I enquired “ John Lee Hooker and B.B. King “, he said. As my brain was trying to process that information I managed to blurt out “I am the drummer”. His jaw dropped. “How old are you?” he demanded. “Nineteen” I lied. He looked at me and said “Get out of here kid”. Sensing my big moment might be slipping away I said “Remember sound check is in 15mins and I’m the only drummer you have, do you really want me to go?” He was soon carrying my drums from the cab to the stage.
For me this could be the turning that every musician dreams of and I kept telling myself to act like I belonged there but another part of me was sure that at any moment someone would tell me there had been a big mistake and my services wouldn’t be needed. Then I recalled a quote from George Burns .
“Sincerity is the most important thing in show business once you can fake that you’ve got it made”.
Taking this advice to heart I relaxed and decided to ride the wave I had been given.
BB King and his band had already finished their sound check and were hanging out back stage. They invited me to join them and made me feel welcome and giving me a nickname “The Kid”. Some of them had been in the band for 20 years or more. They told tales of the road and swapped lines and started myths. I knew I was looking into my own future.
Meanwhile two hours had passed and no sign of John Lee Hooker. Show time was approaching and the promoter was frantic. He had rented the venue, advertised the event, arranged for visas and hotels and had a lot on the line financially. There was tension building backstage, never a good thing before a performance.
Fifteen minutes to show time the curtain is down and the audience are taking their seats. I and the bass player are set up and ready on stage. We can hear the crowd growing restless with anticipation .
Ten minutes to show time so there I was sitting behind my drum kit. No rehearsal, no sound check, no set list and most troubling of all still no sign of John Lee Hooker. Welcome to showbiz Kid.
