We have now fully moved into our new home on wheels.
This is also the time I remember getting into enjoying music. Listening to songs on the radio in the car with my mom while going with her to run errands was my breakthrough into the sixties rock and roll era. Honestly, I didn’t like her music. The songs were full of twangs and heehaws. I liked the more modern music of the day.
I had a few artists and groups that I listened to as much as I could on the radio when I was allowed to change the station.
During this time in the sixties, radio stations would have call-in contests with the winner getting a prize. Most of the time the prize was the artists or bands’ most recent album.
One morning during the summer I was listening to the radio and preparing my fingers to dial the station number as quickly as I could once the station announced the contest had begun, which was always at the very beginning of the song. I had been trying to get through so many times and was never successful.
The specific contest I was seeking to win involved identifying which band member sang the song being played. On this day the featured band was “The Monkeys.”
So, while I listened intently, the radio station played a song by the Monkey’s and announced that if you were first caller to identify the singer you could win one of their albums. I began dialing the number as quickly as I could. It began to ring which means that I was getting through to the radio station.
And then the radio personality answered with the station name. I was thrilled. I was pretty sure that I knew the answer. I was so excited my voice was going to be on a radio station where other people could hear it. I was going to be famous.
The radio personality asked me the question and I confidently answered. And then the dreaded words were spoken on the air, “I’m sorry, that is incorrect, try again.”
I was devastated. I hoped that no one recognized my voice. I was so embarrassed. How could I have been so wrong? But I was. I said Davey Jones, but it was Micky Dolenz who sang the song “Last Train to Clarksville.”
“Damn,” I said out loud. I was glad my mom wasn’t home. I had to be careful with my words now. The good boy inside me thought that every time I said a curse word, I was going to be punished by someone or some event in my life.
Maybe “being a good boy isn’t a good thing” would cross my mind when I said a curse word.
After we moved, I also noticed my mom asking more questions about how I was doing. I was an only child and held a lot inside after the past year’s events. I also think my mom felt bad about all the summers and birthdays that I didn’t have so she wanted to do something special this year.
And she had the connections to make something special happen. My mom announced that she was going to treat me to a dinner show at one of the big hotels on the Strip.
She knew I liked music now. She also knew that I liked big shows, shows with music. A few years earlier I went to see Fidler on the Roof at Caesars Palace. The production featured Zero Mostel. To this day I still remember the song that was sung from the various windows in the production scenery.
This show started my love of musical theater.
So, for my birthday this year my mom took me to a dinner show that featured a very well-known singer. His name was Dean Martin. This was my first major star performance show experience.
Her connections ensured that we had the best seats. We were sitting at the front of the stage, center table. It was a dinner show. And the food was excellent with some special additions complements of the chef.
And here is the amazing part. My mom and I were served a glass of real champagne for a birthday toast with no questions. The waitress smiled and said, “Compliments of your host.” I asked her if she knew our host and she simply said, “No one you know.” I knew the tone of her response, so I never asked again.
The show was incredible. Dean Martin’s performance, while he was having something to drink on stage, was amazing to watch. The songs he sang were just like what I would hear on the radio and on my mom’s record player.
After the show was over, I saw lots of people paying their bills. My mom simply put her name on the bill and that was it. To be connected in Las Vegas during this time in the sixties meant that you just signed your bill with your initials or your name and that made sure the special gratuities were covered.
When we got home there was a box in my room. I don’t know who put it there. It was my birthday present. It was odd since my birthday was about a month away. I opened it to find a new record player stereo for my room. And it had speakers that connected to the record player with wires. I could put the speakers anywhere in my room. This was an unexpected gift. I could now start buying records.
But I didn’t have any money.
A couple days after getting my surprise birthday gift, the two brothers and I were at the community center swimming. We noticed there was a posting for summer help in the trailer park. The manager was looking for some boys to help with some maintenance projects. The older brother and I applied. His younger brother was not old enough to work. He and I were hired.
I was now going to make some money.
The first job was pulling weeds and cleaning the community center grounds. This was a twice weekly effort. Simple.
Then came the big project. It was breaking up a concrete drainage gutter. This was hard work in the blistering sun of Las Vegas in the month of August. The job took about a week. I was one of the boys who was operating on the jack hammer.
I remember going home each day, covered in sweat and concrete dust, incredibly darkened now with cinnamon red-brown skin from working outside without a shirt, and shaking from the constant pounding of the chisel point penetrating each piece of concrete being broken.
An afternoon nap was a welcoming benefit after a cleansing shower. We did the hard work in the mornings before the heat arrived most of the days.
I worked during the remaining summer weeks, and I did make some money.
With my newfound fortune, I bought my first album. It was “Sounds of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel. Don’t ask me why this was my first album purchase, I just really liked the softness of the music, and it calmed me down when I was feeling anxious.
So, this summer brought me a new home, new friends, some earned cash, and most importantly, a rich tan that I could show off when I returned to school. Now if I could just get my bad acne to go away.
Please let it happen…
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