Another damn good woman drummer who was a regular was Jackie Furman. Jackie was a great character all around. She had moved down from San Francisco along with Rob Moytosa (spelling?), who played bass. Jackie and Rob were playing in a band that was doing the music for an experimental theater group. June, our tour director, says ‘Come on, we’re going down to Venice tonight to hear Jackie’s band and see this play.’ So a bunch of us pile into Linda Wolfe’s big old American convertible. The performance was great, as I remember. It may have been a loft in Venice, but it was as good as I would expect from any off-off-Broadway production. If I’m wrong, I’d be interested to know if there is anyone to argue this with me.
After the show we (I’m partly guessing it was Jeannie, Jackie, June, Linda Wolf, and myself) left to find more to do. It was midnight or 1:00 o’clock when it was decided to go to the Warner Bros. lot in Burbank where Fanny had the use of a sound studio with a stage set up for practicing in concert setting. I don’t know if June had a golden key or what, but the guard at the gate let us in without much trouble. The building was huge. A stage was set up in the middle, complete with spotlights. I was itching to play some music, but it must have looked too much like rehearsal to the band members because we looked at the stage for a few minutes and then left. The next destination escapes memory. I wonder if anyone else involved remembers that night. I’d like to get the personnel straight in my mind.
June and I were witness to the classic Hollywood story. There was an ad for a Gibson acoustic guitar for sale over in Glendale or Burbank. June wanted to see it. We took the pickup truck and found this little apartment shared by three young guys. They were from the Midwest, as I recall. One of them was a singer and a songwriter. His friends had believed in his talent to the point that they had sold most of what they owned to finance their relocation in order that he could make it big in the music business. They had a car, which was probably the next thing to go on the block, and they had a couple of guitars, one of which needed to be sold to pay the rent or buy food. The singer’s friends wasted no time in telling us of his prowess. When one of us pointed out (probably me) that we were in bands and that June’s band was working on a record, they insisted we hear their prodigy. It was heart warming and tragic all at once. The songs were nothing more than average open-mike fare. He sang okay and played okay, but wasn’t anything that was going to save these guys’ investment. Imagine the faith that his friends had in him. I hope they’re friends to this day. Who knows, maybe he got a lot better and I have an album of his in my stack. If he was able to hook up with people he could learn from, it’s entirely possible. At that point, however, it looked like somebody was in for a deal on a sports car.
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