Amazon sent me an ad for a CD by an old Merced boy named Roddy Jackson. He was one of the original three Merced Blue Notes. The name of the Album is Central Valley Fireball and it’s well titled. Went on YouTube, found a couple videos of Roddy tearing the house down at Rockabilly festivals in the UK. That started me thinking about Rock and Roll, my misspent youth and how much fun it was misspending it. My Dad was a frustrated musician and in his travels he acquired on of those console organs with all the gizmos that let you make it sound like everything from a pipe organ to a jet engine. He didn’t play it much after the novelty wore off but one night some of my friends and I put it to good use.
A little history wouldn’t hurt. If you know about Rock and Roll you can skip this paragraph. Rock and Roll burst onto the scene in 1955 with the release of the movie Blackboard Jungle. Starred Glenn Ford and the scrumptious Anne Francis with a supporting cast like Sidney Poitier and Vic Morrow. The title theme was “Rock Around the Clock” by a longtime country singer name Bill Halley, for some reason he called his band “The Comets” Bill opened the door for a whole bunch of performers like Gene Vincent and Jerry Lee Lewis . Hot on their heels came all the folks I call real Rock and Rollers. Most of them were Black, they spent the late 50’s and early 60’s making the best pop music of the time and getting ripped off by everybody from producers and record companies to promoters. Anybody who saw Little Richard or Chuck Berry or Ike and Tina Turner live on stage won’t ever forget. Most important it was real music. You kinda knew there wasn’t some guy with an eye shade and a Friden calculator backstage telling Chuck what to play.
From about my Sophomore year in High School on the battle between the students and the chaperone's at the sock hops was about playing real music or some of the revolting covers that the music business tried (not without success) to fob off on us. Or getting the chaperone's to lose the big band stuff and play “our music”. I mean Pat Boone’s a nice bloke but covering Tutti Frutti? in your dreams Mr. Capitol. Go sing “Love Letters in the Sand” so I can slow dance with Margie what’s her name.
So, Dad bought this amazing organ and I had a friend in a band. Who among other talents played keyboards. I went off to fulfill my military reserve commitment and when I got back found that I was going to have the house to myself for a couple of months, heh, heh.
The statute of limitations has I’m sure run out long ago but no names, O.K? We had parties and parties and it got to the point that when we didn’t have a party people showed up and argued at the front door. “Whatta mean no party? There was a party last night. Open the damn door.” You get the idea. One night, I think it was a Wednesday, the band came over to rehearse. Had my friend on keyboards or rhythm guitar and singing lead, a tenor sax, bass, lead guitar and drums. Good band, covered the bluesy side of the top 40, did a few originals. And when they got cooking about 8:30 an army showed up on the lawn. There must have been 100 kids. 5 year old to teenagers, they were literally dancing in the street. When I looked out all the parents were out as well. They were mostly making sure their teenage daughters didn’t rush the front door, and that the band stayed in the house and didn’t deflower anyone. They were in some cases too late, but that’s another story and it ain’t going on the Internet. Stockton had a curfew then, at 10:30 PM the music and the party sounds had to stop. And a couple of the neighbors already had the knives out for us. So at 10:29 in the midst of really kicking the slats out the band stopped. It was sooo cool.
At exactly 10:30 the Sheriff drove by, rolled the window down and told the kids in the street to go home. Then he drove off, and parked right down the street. Guess he didn’t trust us.
My keyboard playing buddy lives in Toronto now, he’s had a bunch of years in the music business, and what’s really funny is the drummer has a son who is my stockbroker. Small world. But flippin amazing.
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