A Bearded Old Man on the Veranda
Fitzgerald’s was located in The Heights, a historical district in Houston. Once well-to-do, it was now a neighborhood of aging homes and businesses, inhabited mainly by young, barely employed or elderly nearly dead. It always struck me as being Houston’s version of Haight-Ashbury. Having never been to San Francisco, I’m probably just romanticizing both places.
The club had been converted from an early 1900’s Polish dance hall. A massive wooden structure, it was inviting, with a wide staircase leading up to a large, open dance floor with an impressive stage. There was a spacious balcony and a decent bar. Downstairs was more intimate, with a smaller bar and little ‘areas’ to sit. If you were a bigger band with a decent draw, you’d play upstairs, but if you were starting out or playing during the week, you’d perform downstairs. We did both.
Our manager, Kit, helped out with some of the administrative work of the club and through that, we had a definite ‘in’. We played Fitzgerald’s a lot. I still have a copy of the FitzHerald, the club’s promotional newspaper that has a calendar with us playing on a certain Tuesday, following some unknown comedian named Jay Leno. I hear he’s done well. We were ‘the’ opening band for the club for a while, playing with bands like The Plimsouls, Modern English, the Violent Femmes, Joe King Carrasco. Their popularity introduced us to larger crowds.
One night in particular, the night we opened for Modern English, sticks in my memory. Modern English had a current cult hit called ‘I Melt With You’ (since used on a hamburger commercial, I believe) and the buzz in the crowd was palpable. Their video was a regular staple on the infant MTV. The club was packed and the backstage was too. The backstage area was an interesting design. A small warm up room was just off the stage with three doors. One door lead out into the audience and one door led to the outside and a staircase leading down. The last went back onto a veranda with some chairs and a deck above the parking area below. Crossing that, one would enter a separate building that housed the club’s offices, printing room, and a large dressing room with bath. Almost all of this available space was taken up by us, Modern English, the various crew members (2 of ours and about 10 of theirs) and all manner of local musician, journalist and scene-maker. Anyone and everyone who played the club seemed to be backstage that night; and I got a lot of envious comments about being the opening act.
Also there that night was local boy-made-good Billy Gibbons, guitarist, singer, and composer with ZZ Top. They, too, were enjoying a resurgence in their popularity thanks to MTV. Pictures of their trademark beards were plastered all over town on billboards, advertising a local radio station. Billy was there that night to meet the band. He certainly wasn’t there to hear their music, because throughout their performance, he held court on the veranda. He told stories about songwriting, video making, album production, and the rapt, appreciative music children devoured every word. I guess it helped keep the side anteroom clear for the other band.
Anyway, after a period of time and before Modern English was through, he got up to leave. Didn’t want to deal with the crowds, he said, and wanted to go unnoticed. But what he did to go ‘unnoticed’ made me laugh. He took his big overcoat and stuffed his beard inside it, meaning his coat came up above his chin. Then he put a Sam Spade hat on top of his head and walked out the audience door. He looked like a cartoon spy. All overcoat and hat, with eyes peering out from under the brim.
That was a sharp dressed man. I bet SOMEONE had to have noticed him.
The club had been converted from an early 1900’s Polish dance hall. A massive wooden structure, it was inviting, with a wide staircase leading up to a large, open dance floor with an impressive stage. There was a spacious balcony and a decent bar. Downstairs was more intimate, with a smaller bar and little ‘areas’ to sit. If you were a bigger band with a decent draw, you’d play upstairs, but if you were starting out or playing during the week, you’d perform downstairs. We did both.
Our manager, Kit, helped out with some of the administrative work of the club and through that, we had a definite ‘in’. We played Fitzgerald’s a lot. I still have a copy of the FitzHerald, the club’s promotional newspaper that has a calendar with us playing on a certain Tuesday, following some unknown comedian named Jay Leno. I hear he’s done well. We were ‘the’ opening band for the club for a while, playing with bands like The Plimsouls, Modern English, the Violent Femmes, Joe King Carrasco. Their popularity introduced us to larger crowds.
One night in particular, the night we opened for Modern English, sticks in my memory. Modern English had a current cult hit called ‘I Melt With You’ (since used on a hamburger commercial, I believe) and the buzz in the crowd was palpable. Their video was a regular staple on the infant MTV. The club was packed and the backstage was too. The backstage area was an interesting design. A small warm up room was just off the stage with three doors. One door lead out into the audience and one door led to the outside and a staircase leading down. The last went back onto a veranda with some chairs and a deck above the parking area below. Crossing that, one would enter a separate building that housed the club’s offices, printing room, and a large dressing room with bath. Almost all of this available space was taken up by us, Modern English, the various crew members (2 of ours and about 10 of theirs) and all manner of local musician, journalist and scene-maker. Anyone and everyone who played the club seemed to be backstage that night; and I got a lot of envious comments about being the opening act.
Also there that night was local boy-made-good Billy Gibbons, guitarist, singer, and composer with ZZ Top. They, too, were enjoying a resurgence in their popularity thanks to MTV. Pictures of their trademark beards were plastered all over town on billboards, advertising a local radio station. Billy was there that night to meet the band. He certainly wasn’t there to hear their music, because throughout their performance, he held court on the veranda. He told stories about songwriting, video making, album production, and the rapt, appreciative music children devoured every word. I guess it helped keep the side anteroom clear for the other band.
Anyway, after a period of time and before Modern English was through, he got up to leave. Didn’t want to deal with the crowds, he said, and wanted to go unnoticed. But what he did to go ‘unnoticed’ made me laugh. He took his big overcoat and stuffed his beard inside it, meaning his coat came up above his chin. Then he put a Sam Spade hat on top of his head and walked out the audience door. He looked like a cartoon spy. All overcoat and hat, with eyes peering out from under the brim.
That was a sharp dressed man. I bet SOMEONE had to have noticed him.