Three Gigs, Three Days, 2000 Miles, Four Hours Sleep

First Contact

It all started with a Fenderskirts gig at Dick's Last Resort at North Pier. Dick's is a wild place that draws a big convention crowd. A lady named Carol said she loved the band, and asked me for a business card. She asked if the band ever played on the East coast. I figured we would never travel that far, but hey, what's the cost of one business card?

The Booking

I was floored when, four weeks later, Carol phoned me to book The Fenderskirts for her husband's surprise 40th birthday party at their house in New Jersey. I checked our calendar for the Saturday of her party, and saw that we already had gigs in the Chicago area on that Friday and Sunday. I thought to myself 'this gig will never happen'. So I told Carol we would only do it if she paid double our usual fee, paid for the plane tickets, hotel, rental car, and found a place in her town to rent guitar amps, drum set and a small sound system. To my surprise, she agreed to everything!

The First Gig

The Friday night Chicago area gig was at Cruiser's in Beach Park. The Fenderskirts had been making regular appearances at Cuirsers for a couple of years, and we had a great time as usual. The dance floor was packed, and before too long we had eight beautiful girls dancing on stage with us singing "Ride Sally Ride". We finished the night with an encore of 'Wooly Bully', packed up as fast as we could and headed home for two hours of sleep.

The Second Gig

After just two hours of sleep, but very excited, we grabbed our guitars and drum sticks and headed for O'Hare Airport. Hopped a plane to Newark, then a shuttle bus to Avis to pick up our rental car. As we pulled up to the rental office drummer Steve (our original drummer) saw a car in the rental lot that was the exact make, model, and year as his own car at home. We talked the rental agent into switching our reservation and Steve became the designated driver for the drive to the gig.

Carol's house was a 90-minute drive into the New Jersey hills. Did I say house? I meant mansion. The party theme was Southwestern. On the side of the house was a full-size replica of the entrance gate to the Alamo. Walking through the Alamo gate led to the giant backyard party with a buffet table the length of half a fooball field. All of the furniture on the ground floor was replaced with an actual working casino. Black jack dealers in tuxedos, roulette, craps, -the works.

We found a huge pile of equipment in the garage, and proceeded to sort out the rental band gear. While we were setting up, a DJ was teaching country line dancing. This meant it wasn't long before the crowd was ready for some real rock n' roll from the Fenderskirts! Carol got a big kick out of introducing the 'band she had flown in from Chicago'. The people really loved 'Great Balls of Fire' and 'Whole Lotta Shakin' by Jerry Lee Lewis. We finished up at around 1:00am with a classic version of 'Twist and Shout' and then hopped into 'Steve's' car and back to the hotel for two more hours of sleep.

The Third Gig

Thank goodness the hotel wake-up call was on time. Drove to the airport, flight to Chicago, drove home to pick up our own guitar amps and drums and sound system, and drove up to the Wisconsin border to play for thirty bikers and their girl friends at an afternoon gig at R&R Crossing. As we pulled up to the biker bar, we saw a rough looking character light a flame thrower and spray out a three foot long flame at a 55-gallon drum. The 55 gallon drum was cut in half, each half set up on legs to act as a grill. He was lighting the charcoal for the 'grill your own' steak bar-b-que. Of course the favorite song of the day was 'Born To Be Wild' by Steppenwolf: 'Get your motor running, head out on the highway'. During the break we cooked ourselves up some steaks and helped ourselves to some corn on the cob and potato salad. Then back to the outdoor stage for 'Love Her Madly' by the Doors and 'The Hanky Panky' by Tommy James and the Shondells. The biker girls did a good job of entertaining us on the dance floor, but of course, biker guys don't dance. They just gave us dirty looks for looking at their girl friends on the dance floor. We ripped off an extended version of 'Louie, Louie' and then headed home.

Whew -that was one wild weekend! It's the one we like to remember as: Three Gigs, Three Days, 2000 Miles, Four Hours Sleep.

Coming soon: The U.S. Navy versus the Outlaws