On the night of February 25th, Bobby Albin, Don Mordecai, and Walter Watson sat in with us at Savvy's. They did "Johnny B. Goode" and "Rock And Roll" by Led Zeppelin. It was a nice distraction for us to have them out. Rhonda and I were trying another mutual split. March started with another lackluster week in Waco. It seemed that Waco had already grown tired of us. A bad week in Waco was followed by three slow nights at the Ft. Worth club. It was enough to make us all shake our heads and wonder what was going on. Then on the night of March 8th, Rick Miller came unglued in the dressing room during our second break. He was finally driven to say out loud what all the Savvy's Nightclub owners had probably been thinking for some time. Rick told us that it was difficult justifying  putting us in the club when perhaps another more popular up and coming band might bring in a bigger crowd and do better business for the club. We all knew that Rick had been looking for a good reason to get out of the band business for a while and we'd done everything we could to keep him interested. Suddenly, we realized it was getting to the point that we couldn't really blame him for wanting to get out.

Spirits were lifted when we received a call from our old friend Eddie Gattis, wanting us to play at the opening of a new club - Tango's. We jumped at the chance to play for a new audience at a new venue. Tango's was on Greenville Avenue in Dallas, and was known for the giant dancing frog sculptures on the roof. The change of scenery was good for us. We were really well received and the management, who knew us from the Agora days, told us we'd never sounded better. They also told us that we pulled in 1,750 people on St. Patrick's Day. We made lots of new friends at Tango's. The crew there consisted of Charley, Frank, Bill, Susan, Susie, Cathy, and even a few of our old pals from the Agora staff. After one particular night at Tango's, I went to see Ricky Lynn play at Matley's.  Stoney Burns was there. Also on hand was Stephanie, the ex singer from Pandora that I'd dated a few years back. She had gone on to marry a member of TOTO. 

Tango's had us feeling alive again. Any thoughts of giving up were put on hold. But during the gloomy weeks leading up to that point, I'd become very unorganized. I hadn't been writing in my journals regularly, and bills were starting to get behind. Tango's jump-started us again and things got back on track. Savvy's even seemed to be working out better after our run at Tango's. At least the crowds were coming out and responding again. But by the third night back in Waco there was more trouble.  

Rich Mauch's amp blew out and he had to rent one from Waco local, David Zycheck. For some reason, once the rented amp was plugged in, Rich and I suddenly had a serious grounding problem on stage. This was evident when I got a big electrical shock as my arm made contact with the tuning keys of RJ's bass during a song. I leaned over and told RJ about it, hoping he would reverse the ground switch on his amp. Instead, he began shocking me for fun. We'd all had those little grounding shocks before, but this was much worse. I tried switching my amps ground, and Rich tried switching his, but it didn't help. As Rich stepped up to the mic to sing, he took a zing to his mouth as the microphone shocked him! Dave Davis saw right away that there was a problem and ran to the stage to start trying to track down the problem, but the shocking continued. RJ was laughing. Rich was singing, but his face was about a foot from the mic at that point. I turned to make eye contact with Dave as he was working the scene behind the amps when ZAP! RJ had purposely shocked me on the arm again. He roared with laughter, but to me there was nothing funny about it.  

I'd never been that pissed on stage before. I reeled around and shook my fist in RJ's face, shouting a clear warning, laced with expletives. RJ must have been looking for a fight because when I yelled at him, a look came over his face that I'd never seen before and he actually kicked me hard in the right knee - my BAD knee! Thankfully, the knee held and I didn't buckle, but he had tried. He knew my knee was my Achilles Heel. I don't think Rick Miller was ever even aware of what was going on. His drums were set up on the far end of the stage to my right, and Dan's keys were to the far left. We were playing a heavy metal song that masked the action on stage pretty well. 

An odd thing happened when he kicked me. I'd never been in a fight before in my life, and I didn't respond to violence the way the average person might. I've never had that knee-jerk response to strike back without thinking because I've always spent too much time thinking. If someone clobbered me, I'd have to stop and make sure they weren't playing around before I could get mad. It was probably related subconsciously somehow to an issue dating back to a time when I almost accidentally killed my youngest brother by horsing around. We were playing a game where I would lay on my back and hold my feet up. Kids would sit on my feet and I would catapult them up in the air. We called it "giving rocket rides".  It was like jumping out of a swing while going really high, only without the swing. Usually it was a lot of fun, but on one particular occasion, brother Ray came down head first on the sidewalk. He had a concussion, went into convulsions, and had to go to the hospital.  The doctors told my parents to prepare for the worst as they took little Ray into surgery. Mom and dad went to the end of the hall and looked out the window of the Harris Hospital waiting area. Mom asked God to give her a sign that everything would be okay. At that very moment, a leaf fell off a tree close by and slowly drifted, like a feather, to the ground. Both of my parents swore that to be true to their dying days. The surgery was a success and Ray would live to be bonked another day. 

After RJ kicked me, I was more shocked than angry. All I could think about was how he'd crossed the line and was behaving like some kind of thug. We were all used to the verbal thrashings and harsh gags, but that was just part of the deal. It had never escalated to the point of becoming physical between any member of the band before. He knew he'd screwed up the moment he did it too. It was a good thing that I didn't have that primal response to strike back or we would have gone into a big rumble right then and there, and that would have been the end of the Savvy Stories. Instead, we finished the song and went to break. Dave Davis had seen the whole thing and was almost as appalled as I was. Rich had seen it too. RJ immediately started trying to solicit support from Dave and Dan and the others, but he didn't get it. Everyone backed me up on that one, and had he possessed a conscience , that would've been punishment enough for him. He did apologize later, and amazingly enough, we almost seemed tighter for a while after the experience. Nothing like a good on-stage kicking to make estranged co-working cousins to bond. Only in the music business.

We returned to Savvy's for two more nights - March 27th and 28th. On the first night, a guy named Andy was trying to convince us that he was the road manager for Judas Priest. We'd met him in Waco and he kept telling us he'd phoned the Priest guys to tell them about us. He brought a fake looking telegram to show us in Ft. Worth, allegedly from Judas Priest guitarist, Glenn Tipton. It basically said "Looking forward to meeting all of you (stop) Andy has told me good things about you (stop) Glenn Tipton"  It looked like it had been printed out on my cheap Commodore printer. 

After work the next night, as I left the club, I found a note tucked under the windshield wiper of my car. It said;

"SAVVY SUCKS! GET OUT OF THE BUSINESS! YOUR FANS"

I was devastated. It had been like a sucker punch to the bread basket. I drove over to Rick Miller's and showed him the note. He shrugged it off like water from a duck's back. I asked how he could be so nonchalant about it and he replied, "Two words. Winter Park!" Old Rick was already mentally in the "SKI ZONE" in anticipation of our trip the following day. He knew that within 24 hours, we would be on the beautiful white slopes, in the cold fresh mountain air. Rick knew I'd never been skiing before, and he also knew that you can't explain the thrill of it with spoken words alone. He urged me to go home and get some rest, and be ready to have the time of my life!

The next day I went on a shopping spree, purchasing over $200 in ski apparel. Dan Kostura, RJ, and I met up with Rick Miller and Carla at Rick's house. We all piled into his van (the one we'd used to haul our equipment in for the past few years) and headed to DFW airport. On the way, Dan was doing a bit of bragging about how well he could ski. RJ wasn't saying much. Carla had just learned she was pregnant. I was just happy to be going along for the trip. 

Dan Kostura rides in the back of Rick Miller's van on the way
to DFW Airport, for our ski trip to Winter Park. 

I should have known it was going to be an interesting trip when we discovered that we were going to be passengers on Rich Airlines final Charter Flight departing from DFW airport. It seems they were about to relocate to another airport. It LOOKED like they were moving too. There were boxes everywhere, and things were rather unorganized during the flight. We made it to Denver without any major problems, where we met up with Rich Mauch, Wayne Addington, Lindy, Rat, Hut, Big Mike, Terry, and Darrel - all friends and family of club owners and employees. They had already rented a Budget Van, so we loaded up and headed out for Winter Park, about 50 miles from Denver. 

We stayed at Beaver Village, in a nice four bedroom condo, but we would have to weather our first bit of drama before seeing it from the inside. Rick accidentally broke the key off in the door, so we stood around in the snow while Rick went for another key. Meanwhile, Lindy worked at trying to pick the broken pieces out of the lock. When Rick returned with the new key, it fit the side door, so we were able to go on in and get settled. Lindy did manage to get all those pieces out of the lock. 

Everyone claimed their beds. Rick and Carla took one of the bedrooms, and the rest really wouldn't matter, considering how tired we would all be at the end of a day of skiing. We all crashed early in anticipation of an early day. The next morning we were all up by 7:30am, the time we were usually all going to bed. We were at Winter Park's lodge by 9am, buying lift passes and renting skis, boots, and poles. Wayne, Rat, and Lindy gave those of us who were novices, a crash course in skiing. We found a nice little hill and practiced plowing. It seemed easy enough, so we headed over to our first lift. I was awestruck by the view from high above the slopes and knew that I'd found my favorite new thing on earth. 

Negotiating the ski lifts was a real challenge. It became a competition between us novices to see who could get on and off without falling on our asses. I did well. RJ had a really hard time with it though. It didn't help matters that RJ was getting buzzed with Lindy while riding the lifts. The first day was limited to nice, gentle green trails. Still, it was physically straining, mainly because I was overworking my legs all day trying to plow, rather than just pointing the skis downhill and going with it. That would come later. But I loved it just the same. It didn't take long before RJ was completely frustrated with the entire concept of skiing. Dan, wearing his thick, kelly green colored coveralls, stepped in to try to coach RJ along. Suddenly RJ was headed downhill, going too fast and out of control. He was shouting at people to get out of his way! Then he went into a tumble and crashed. A ski patrol officer was on the scene in a flash. When he asked what was going on, Dan stepped in saying, "Sir, it's ok. I've got this under control. I'm teaching him how to ski." 

The ski patrolman answered him back by saying, "Under control?? If you're teaching THIS guy how to ski, you aren't doing a very good job! He needs to take REAL lessons from a REAL teacher!"  Of course Dan couldn't let it go and argued with they guy until they threatened to kick him out of the park. I was embarrassed. RJ was praying for a helicopter. Rat and Wayne offered to help RJ get back down to the lodge, so the rest of us took off on our own. That was the day Dan earned the nickname, "Ski Patrol Dan."

Ski Patrol Dan, in his green coveralls (right) with
Rat (left) and Rich Mauch (center). 

The next time we saw RJ, he was back at the lodge after injuring his leg. Somehow he'd gotten a deep cut in his upper thigh and had to go to a doctor to get it sewn up. I was concerned that his trip was ruined, but he was thrilled to get to sleep in, watch TV, stay buzzed, and not have to get out in the cold again! So that worked out for him. We cleaned up and went out to eat at a nice steakhouse. At the end of the meal, everyone was throwing $20 bills onto the center of the table, except for Dan. He had his calculator out and was figuring up exactly what he owed. I was huffing and rolling my eyes and Dan picked up on it.  Either Dan was being quirky, or I was over reacting to things. Either way, my problems with Dan would become a sub plot for the rest of the trip.

Back in the van, I ragged on Dan for pulling out the calculator and told him he might not getting invited back again if he didn't lighten up. Dan valiantly defended his actions, saying that when you figure the tip, hardly anyone had put in enough money to cover the meals they'd ordered, and he didn't order as much as everyone else. He was on a budget and didn't care what anybody thought about it. Dan had a point. The good old boys were tossing in $20 bills like they were hundreds. He'd had a budget meal and we'd had steak and the works. I'd just never seen anyone pull a calculator out after a meal like that before. It really wasn't that big of a deal. Dan and I were simply finding ourselves polarized for some reason. We let it go for the time being.  

The group headed to a club called "The Slope" and heard a band called "Flight Of the Phoenix." We had a few drinks then checked out a jazz club, and a band called "Cat On the Prowl." We were the only customers in the place and gave the band an encore. The waitress was really sweet. 

RJ lounges in his robe as the rest of us get ready to hit the 
slopes on the second day of our trip to Winter Park. (Standing
from left to right: Rat, Steve Jones, Rich Mauch, Dan Kostura,
Rick Miller. RJ is seated.)

The next morning, everyone was loaded on the van and ready to get back out on the slopes again, except for two; RJ and Dan. We knew RJ wasn't going because of his leg injury. We'd even made a gag out of telling him he didn't have to cut himself on purpose just to avoid skiing. The question in everyone's mind was, "Where is Dan?" I was elected to go in and check on him. I found him still asleep in his bed. He asked what time it was and I told him it was time for the van to leave. He asked me to give him five minutes. So I went back to the van and we waited. Finally Dan came out in his robe, with his hair disheveled. He climbed on board the rented van and asked us where we were going. 

Admittedly losing my cool,  I spoke up - telling him we were anxious to get to the lifts as soon as possible. Then he asked  what time we were planning on returning! I bit my tongue and waited for someone else to handle it. Wayne spoke up with amazing patience. He told Dan we would be coming back when the lifts closed. That was all Dan wanted; someone to be civil to him. He ran his hand through his hair as he thought about it for a minute, then decided he supposed he would go. We waited several more minutes for him to get ready.

On the ride to the lodge, I moved over to the seat next to Dan and started in on him about - what I perceived to be - his very peculiar behavior. But I'd also found it strange that nobody else seemed bothered by the things that were so bothering me. I lectured Dan all the way to the lodge. He just sat silently staring out the window. When we arrived at the lodge parking lot, everyone got off the van and collected their skis from the roof mount. Once we had our skis, Dan and I were walking fairly close to each other as we headed to the lifts. I asked him if he was gong to try to ski a "blue" route.  He stopped in his tracks, ignoring me. I asked what was wrong. In a startling move, Dan let go of  his skis, and plopped down - sitting in the snow with his arms crossed - and shouted, "LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE!" It was a mantra. The rest of the guys never looked at him or even raised an eyebrow. They just walked around him and kept walking to the slopes. That was the last conversation between me and Dan during the rest of the trip. 

We learned to ski moguls that day, and even did a few blue runs. I was in heaven. It was the most beautiful scenery I'd ever seen, and the most fun I'd ever had, in spite of my differences with Ski Patrol Dan. Lindy brought along the football smokeless one-hitter, which came in really handy on the ski lifts. I was taking to skiing like a fish takes to water. Rick Miller had been a few times, but luckily he enjoyed the easier scenic slopes, so I was able to hang with him most of the time. Rich and the other guys were a little more advanced, and liked doing the daredevil stuff. Someone even had a video camera and I know that somewhere in somebody's sock drawer is a tape full of great memories from that trip!

Looking back at the Winter Park Ski Lodge while riding a ski lift.
It was breathtaking, and I knew I'd found a new passion.

On the second night, Rick, Carla, and I went out to eat at a really nice restaurant. Rick picked up the tab and I left a $15 tip. As I plucked the bills from my wallet, I chuckled to myself at the mental imagine of Dan with his calculator. The waitress joked with us about being from Texas. Once inside back at the condo, Carla noticed that her wedding ring was gone! She could only surmise that her fingers had shrunk due to the cold, and the ring had slipped off without her knowing it!  She didn't know when or where for sure, but she thought she'd had it on when she got out of the car. We all went outside to look for it - in the dark, in two feet of snow! After an hour of searching, there was a terrible feeling that it was a lost cause. It was freezing cold, and as our flashlights gave out one by one, so did the searchers.

 Everyone was exhausted from a full day of skiing, and the consensus was that if the ring had dropped in the snow out front of the condo, it wasn't going anywhere before morning. Still, I was overcome with a strange obsession to keep looking, so I matched up the best two D cell batteries from the bunch and managed to get enough luminance from one of the flashlights to continue the search. My squabbles with Dan aside, the trip had been awe-inspiring for me - almost magical. I wanted it to be a good trip for all of us. The thought of Carla laying in the next room, uncertain if she would return home with her wedding ring on her finger after less than two months of marriage, drove me to keep looking. And when the flashlight finally gave out, I continued searched by the light of the moon.  

CHAPTER 56:  ROCK AND ROLL ROAD TRIP HELL

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