Unforeseen Events – Part V

On a Monday afternoon in late October Ethan Wells and Ronnie Redmond sat in the front seat of Ronnie’s brand new 1962 Ford Galaxie. Ronnie pressed the button activating the reverb effect on the radio. It created a concert hall sound effect within the car.

“Wow.” said Ethan.

“Cool, isn’t it.”

The car was parked on the circular driveway in front of Ronnie’s Brentwood home.

“When did you get this?”

“Picked it up this morning.”

“What’s under the hood?”

“Big V8, four hundred and six cubic inches.”

“And four on the floor.”

“Yah, and three-twos on the engine.”

“Sweet,” said Ethan.

Just then a voice on the radio interrupted the music to announce a special broadcast from the White House in Washington.

“Good evening my fellow citizens,” said President Kennedy. What followed was the historic speech Kennedy delivered regarding the Cuban Missile Crisis. Ethan and Ronnie sat quietly listening to Kennedy’s speech, which clearly affirmed that the world was on the brink of nuclear war. 

When it ended Ronnie said, “What d’ya think?”

“My brother’s stationed in Germany.” 

“Mark?”

“Can’t imagine what he’s thinking right now.”

“Where’s the exit?”

“Yah. Something like that.”  

Ethan was in his first year at Santa Monica City College. Over the summer, his brother Mark joined the Army after a painful breakup with his fiancé. Also, Steve DuBois had been drafted in September, effectively putting an end to The Steve DuBois Band. Times were changing. 

That evening Ethan called Kate on the phone.

“Hello babe,” he said.

“Did you hear Kennedy’s speech?” she said.

“Yah. I was sitting in Ronnie Redmond’s new Ford. We heard the whole thing in stereo.”

“What do you think?”

“Ronnie said he’s going to join up.”

“Ronnie? Somehow I don’t see him shooting guns.”

“Maybe they’ll put him in the Army band.”

“Like your brother.”

“Yah, like Mark.”

“You want to get together tonight?” she said.

“I don’t think so. I need to be alone right now.”

“Sweetheart, if you keep being alone you will be alone.”

“What does that mean?” he said.

“You’re neglecting our relationship.”

“What relationship?”

“We’re more than friends my dear.”

“Are you still seeing Patrick?”

“That’s different. Patrick and I have history.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’m not having this conversation. Not today.” Kate hung up the phone.

For over a year the two of them had been in a stormy relationship. It was Ethan’s first love affair and he had no reference for how to deal with the conflicts that arose between them. Kate was a year older and more experienced. She was still spending time with her old boyfriend Patrick, insisting it was platonic now. This didn’t prevent Ethan from his agonies. When they first met he felt like she was a lot cooler than him. She was. He knew he was out of his depth but he was crazy-in-love with Kate. For him it was a heaven or hell experience.

Ethan was in a slump. He and Kate were not getting along. His efforts to succeed in the music business had gone off the rails. The two bands he drummed with were no more. With no other prospects on the horizon he didn’t know what to do next.

Ethan phoned his old buddy Johnny Spence.

“County Jail.” answered Spence.

“Hey Johnny it’s Ethan.”

“Hey E-man, what’s happening?

“You hear Kennedy’s speech today.”

“Heard about it. Looks like we’re all going to die.”

“Might be a relief.”

“That bad, huh? What are you doing now?” said Johnny.

“Talking to you.”

“Why don’t we meet at Barney’s?”

“Uh… sure. It’ll take me a half hour to get there.”

“Me too. I’ll see you around seven.”

“See you then.”

Barney’s Beanery was a legendary bar in Hollywood. It attracted show business types and other eccentrics. Johnny and Ethan liked to go there for the ambiance, plus they weren’t sticklers about checking IDs. 

Walking into Barneys, Ethan saw familiar faces sitting on bar stools at the long bar on the right side of the narrow front section.  Beyond the bar the place opened up into a small, wood paneled room where six timeworn booths absorbed nightly casts of colorful characters. Dimly lit, this was a place to forget your woes.

Johnny was sitting alone in a rear booth and waived for Ethan to come join him.

“Can you groove a beer?” said Johnny.   

“Hell yes,” replied Ethan, already feeling relieved. Johnny waved at Ellen the waitress and she came over to the table.

“Hey Johnny, haven’t seen you for awhile,” she said.

“And I’ve missed you too my dear. How ’bout you bring us a pitcher and two glasses.”

“Comin’ right up,” said Ellen.

In her forties, Ellen Frank was someone out of a Raymond Chandler novel. Though still attractive, serving drinks to drunks for twenty years gave her a hunted look. 

“So what’s going on with you?” said Johnny.

“Rough day, Johnny. Y’know, the whole Cuba thing. Kennedy’s speech. Then Kate and I fell out again.”

“What goes with you two?”

“The music I suppose. The constant rehearsals, weekend shows, the morning after thing.”

“What, from drinking?”

“No. On mornings after performances I get these awful let downs, aching with exhaustion and feeling empty. Then Kate calls and suggests we make a day of it. And I just can’t do it. I think she’s done with me.”

“What can you do?”

“Quit the music game?”

“And do what?”

“I know. I’ve painted myself into a corner. I don’t know what to do?”

“Work is our sanity, brother. You got any prospects?

“Nothing. I tried out for another band last week but no deal.”

“Do you know Kim Fowley?”

“Pencil Fowley?” said Ethan.

“Don’t ever say that to his face.”

“What about him?”

“He’s well connected, seems to know everybody in the business.”

“And?”

“I know him pretty well. Let me introduce you.”

“Why not?”

“We could go see him right now.”

“Now?”

“He hold’s court most evenings at Musso and Franks up on Hollywood Boulevard. Five minutes from here.”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon man. Seize the day.”

Ten minutes later Ethan and Johnny arrived at Kim Fowley’s table in Musso & Frank’s Grill.

“Hello Spence,” said Fowley, “what’s the latest?”

“Kim I want to introduce you to my good friend, Ethan Wells.”

“I know who you are,” said Fowley as he extended his hand in greeting.

Shaking Kim’s hand, Ethan said, “How’s that?”

“I saw your battle of the drums act with Karl Prince. That was awhile ago?”

“It was.” said Ethan

“You put on quite a show.”

“Kim, Ethan needs a job,” said Johnny.

“Good timing,” said Fowley. “You know who Howard White is?”

“I don’t,” said Ethan.

“Good guy. He has a small orchestra called Blue Palmetto. They have twelve pieces and tour most of the time. They also do a lot of backup work. Last week his drummer just up and died.” Fowley took a pen from his shirt pocket and wrote on a napkin. “Here’s his phone number. Call him tomorrow. Tell him I referred you.”

“Well thanks,” said Ethan.

Three attractive young women walked up to Fowley’s booth.

“Hi Kim,” they all said in unison.

“Now if you gentlemen will excuse me,” said Fowley.

Ethan and Johnny took the cue and left the restaurant. 

The next morning Ethan telephoned Howard White. Howard asked him a few questions then suggested they meet early the following morning at Mac’s Cafe on Sunset Boulevard. He told Ethan, “I’ll be wearing a grey fedora.”

The two met at Mac’s Cafe on Wednesday morning. At 38 years of age, Howard was a respected band leader who kept his band working most of the time. He had a cordial way about him with a no-nonsense demeanor.

“Kim Fowley tells me you’re quite the drummer,” said Howard.

“That’s kind of him.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“About seven years.”

“What kind of groups have you played with?”

“Y’know,” said Ethan, “school bands and orchestras, rock groups, a jazz quartet. I’ve kept at it real steady.”

“Can you sight read?”

“Not too well, but I’m a quick study. I play instinctively.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Kim Fowley said your drummer just died?”

“Yah. Last week. Big shock.”

“How old was he?” said Ethan.

“Gus was 34. Damn good drummer.”

“May I ask how he died?”

“Heroin overdose.”

Silence. 

“I’m not into that stuff myself,” said Howard. “As long as Gus showed up and did his job I never complained. I figure we all make our choices. How ’bout you? What are your vices?”

“Oh,” said Ethan, “I have a few beers now and then but I don’t do any kind of drugs.”

“You smoke?”

“No.”

“That’s good. I hope you keep it that way. Now, what are you doing later today?”

“No plans.”

“I’ll be at Daystar Recording studios on Cole Avenue at 3PM. Can you be there?”

“Yes I can.”

“Good. We’ll give you a proper audition.”

“Should I bring my drums?”

“The studio has a decent set of Slingerlands, if you’re ok playing on them.”

“That’ll be fine. I’ll bring my sticks.”

“Sounds good. 3PM. Be on time.”

“I’ll be there,” said Ethan.

That afternoon Ethan arrived at the recording studio at 2:45PM. He was greeted by Howard and two of the band’s musicians. The four of them proceeded to “jam” for the next hour, playing various styles of music before taking a break.

“Ok Ethan, the job’s yours if you want it,” said Howard.

“Sounds good. Yes, I’d like to join your band.”

“We’re booked into the Tropicana in Vegas starting a week from Friday. We’ll all get there on Wednesday to rehearse on Thursday. It’ll be a six week run, six nights a week. It pays $150 a week plus a room in a nearby motel. You’ll only have to pay for gas and your meals. How’s that sound?”

“I’m up for it,” said Ethan. He knew he would have to make some fast moves to pull it off, but this was a chance he didn’t want to pass up.

In the following week Ethan dropped his classes at City College, without penalties. In a long conversation with Kate they agreed to take a break. At 5AM on Wednesday morning, Ethan packed a few last minute items and made a pot of coffee in the kitchen.

As he sipped his first cup his father, Franklin Wells, walked into the kitchen. “Is there more coffee?” 

“On the stove, Dad.”

Mr. Wells was a successful architect, specializing in custom homes. He and Mrs. Wells had raised their sons taking a laissez faire approach in their parenting. Beyond a wholesome discipline they encouraged Mark and Ethan to be independent and self-reliant. Mrs. Wells came into the kitchen. She had recently returned to her old profession as a librarian.

“Good morning Mom,” said Ethan.

“And you,” she nodded.

The three of them sat quietly at the breakfast table, sipping their coffee. It was a ritual Ethan had always enjoyed. 

“Nice day for a trip,” said Mr. Wells.

“Yes it is,” said Ethan.

“What time will you get there?” said Mrs. Wells.

“Around noon I think.”

“Is the Woody running good?” said Mr. Wells.

“Tom Ikkanda tuned it up on Monday. I’m all gassed up and ready to go.”

“You good for money?”

“I am Dad, thanks. And I’d better be going.”

All three stood up as Ethan walked out into the darkness before the dawn.

As he started up his car he looked over at the front porch where his parents both waved. He gave them a wave and drove away.

An hour later, driving through the Antelope Valley, a brilliant sunrise lit up Ethan’s path. He was on his way.

to be continued…