Happy Birthday, Ada!

Arlee Bird and daughter Ada circa 1985.

       For some reason I always remembered that I was in Colorado when I first received the phone call.   Maybe it had been Fort Morgan or Sterling or even some other town in Colorado.   But I was looking over some old records that I had kept during that time and now it appears I may have actually been in Texas.

        In my mind I still have a fairly good picture of the school we were playing that night.  It was a modern high school with shiny wide halls.  The auditorium was a topnotch facility with a big clean stage, new looking curtains, and excellent lighting that could be adjusted for color and intensity.  This was the kind of a stage that made the show look good and the backstage operate with efficiency.

        The date was September 26th.  We were on the 1982 World of Fantasy tour of "The Magic of Cinderella".   My wife Susan had left the show in August in order to go back to Tennessee to have our first child.  As the day of delivery grew nearer I began to keep Susan informed of the phone numbers of the motels where we'd be staying and the auditoriums where we'd be playing.   This was before cell phones and on-the-spot easy access at any time.

        When the phone call came I was in the back of the auditorium operating the spotlight.  There was no doubt that a phone call at this time meant something was happening as far as the arrival of our new child.  Testing early on let us know that a girl was on the way so we had picked the name ahead of time--Ada Rachel.

        I'm guessing now that I was in Texas that night when Ada was born.  Where I was is incidental I suppose, but what I know is that on this date in 1982 I was blessed with a wonderful daughter who has given me much happiness in the time she's been on this Earth.  And now she's given me three beautiful grandchildren.

        Thank you, Ada, for many years of happiness.   I'm very proud of you!

Arlee Bird escorts daughter Ada on her wedding day.

       

This Music Magic Moment

Trans-Canada Highway at dawn in Chilliwack, BC. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

        In my most recent post at Tossing It Out I discussed the topic of why we prefer certain songs and particular genres of music.  I have often discussed music on all of my blogs as music is a topic that is very dear to me.  Today at Wrote By Rote I will be looking at one particular magic moment of my music history.

        In July of 1982 the theater company that I then managed was in the middle of a ten month tour with the stage production of The Magic of Cinderella.  This would be my fourth tour with the company and the second run of the Cinderella show   By mid-summer we were in the western United States and had presently begun a three week tour of the western Canadian provinces.

        Prior to my accepting a job with The World of Fantasy Players I had worked a couple seasons with a touring magic show.  During that stint I developed a keen interest in stage magic and illusions. The theater stage production was of a similar vein as it incorporated stage illusions and magic tricks into the Cinderella story setting.  In essence we were a magic musical stage show with a story.  The production included song and dance numbers and was primarily geared toward family audiences or, more specifically, children.   The nature of the show being as it was kept me with a continued interest in anything related to theatrical magic.

        Our first date after having crossed the border into Canada was Lethbridge, Alberta.   There were two shows scheduled in Lethbridge after which we were making a jump to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan which was about 350 miles away.   After packing up the show we set out for the next town at about 9:45 PM which meant we would be at our motel no later than 3 AM.   This was not too unusual though we typically tried to avoid such jumps at night.   However since we had another two show engagement the following day, the jump was preferred over rising early to make the trip.   We would be able to sleep in the following morning which was a schedule more suited to show folk such as us.

         The night was warm and pleasant   The Trans-Canada Highway was not particularly well traveled this late at night so the trip was easy.   On this night I decided to listen to the radio rather than cassette tapes as we usually did.  Reception was good in these parts.   I always liked to listen to the Canadian radio stations as they often played some good music.   This night was no exception.

           Sometime around midnight there were flashes of lightning on the eastern horizon that we were headed toward.   It was possibly heat lightning since rain had not been expected.  The dark skies above us were cloudless.

          As I drove and watched the lightning flashes ahead of me, a song that I had never heard before came on the radio.  It was a very catchy bouncy tune, pleasant to listen to.  The singer had a familiar sound, but I couldn't identify who the group was.  My ears perked when the chorus began.

          "Abra-abra-cadabra, I wanna reach out and grab ya"

         My head was bobbing and I was getting into the song. Magic!  I wondered how this song might be incorporated into a magic routine.   What a great sound.  After the song ended the announcer identified the song as the Steve Miller Band.    I was not an exceptionally big fan of this group, but now I had a reason to like them a bit better than I had before.

        That song is not high on my list of favorites, but it is a song I like a great deal.  Now whenever I hear Steve Miller Band's "Abracadabra" I remember that magical music moment driving down the Trans-Canada Highway in July of 1982.   What a great time it was.

          Is there a special magical music moment that you can recall in your own life?   Did you listen to much pop radio in your younger days?    Have you traveled the Trans-Canada Highway?

Yuma, Arizona

Downtown Yuma, Arizona (2) (Photo credit: Ken Lund)

            The day we played Lake Havasu City, Arizona it was hot--one of the hottest days I'd ever experienced. But it was a dry heat as they say.  I don't care what they say, 120 degrees in mid-afternoon is more than I can comfortably deal with when I have to be out in it.

             It was was mid-August and the Magical Land of Oz tour of the World of Fantasy Players was making it's downward swoop of the western states before hitting a few dates in New Mexico and then a month of shows in Texas.  We would be heading to Yuma after our evening show at the Lake Havasu City high school.  In these climes I tried to schedule our travel time at night when it was a bit cooler.

            We killed time in the afternoon checking out the London Bridge.  The bridge had been moved stone by stone from London and reassembled here in Lake Havasu.  We looked at it but it was so hot that was about all we cared to do.  Instead we went to Hussong's Mexican restaurant to eat a leisurely lunch.  The main thing we cared about was the air-conditioning.

           Thankfully the Performing Arts Center at the high school was air-conditioned.  It's a modern facility with an easy load in and a high tech stage and auditorium.   We were there ready to go when they opened the stage door at 3 PM so we could get our equipment unloaded and retreat into the coolness of the auditorium.

            After the show, when darkness had set in, it was cooler than it had been, but still in the low 90s.  The show truck was undoubtedly uncomfortable to ride in, but my van was air-conditioned so that the 150 mile drive to Yuma was not too bad.  Not being a freeway it was a somewhat slow drive on parts of route 95, but the last stretch ran through desolate desert and was unencumbered by traffic.  We arrived in Yuma around 1 AM.   The temperature had cooled down to somewhere in the eighties.

            The next day in Yuma it was hot.  Not as hot as it had been the day before, but it still got up to about 113 degrees Fahrenheit.  When we went out the city was mostly quiet.  I guess people stayed in the air conditioning and came out only when they had to.  I thought about those stories of people cooking eggs on sidewalks.  I wondered if anyone ever ate those eggs.

             Yuma doesn't seem like a place I'd want to live.  Especially in the summertime.  I don't like extreme heat and I have no craving for sidewalk cuisine.   There's nothing calling out to me in Yuma.

            Yet every winter thousands of people descend upon the city in their travel trailers and motor homes.  Snowbirds they're called.  They come from Canada and states up North.  They fill up the vast treeless encampments that were empty stretches of concrete pads baking in the sun when I saw them.  It's not my kind of life but I guess those people like it.

             Passing through Yuma on my way to someplace else like Phoenix or San Diego is okay.  A short stop in Yuma might even be okay.  But I have no desire to be in Yuma under a searing sun, perhaps cooking an egg on a concrete trailer pad where some snowbird will be parking his motor home come December.  That's not something I want to do.

            I wonder if you can cook bacon on those trailer pads?



           

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Vancouver, British Columbia

View on Vancouver on October 1, 2005 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

          When I was traveling with the World of Fantasy Players theater group, we had some good tour planners and agents who usually seemed to manage to book us on a steady schedule while allowing for some time off in some nice places to be.  I don't know if it was intentional or serendipitous, but it was fine by me and the young people I had touring with me.

            In the summer of 1986 we were doing our annual tour up the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia.  This is a beautiful region of lakes surrounded by scenic mountains and popular with tourists.  Our tour of this region always culminated with the city of Prince George which was several hundred miles north.

             This particular year our agent managed to book us in the scenic town of Squamish about 40 miles north of Vancouver, BC.  The trip from Prince George to Squamish was a hair-raising adventure which I won't go in length to tell here other than it involved what I believed to be a short cut that led us through many miles of mountains on gravel roads in a steady downpour.  Thankfully we arrived in Squamish without mishap and in rather good time.

             But I digress for this story about Vancouver.  Actually there's no big story other than in 1986 the World's Fair was taking place in Vancouver and we conveniently had a few days off.  My wife and I and our young daughter spent one day at the fair as did the tour members.  It was raining--I guess it rains a lot in Vancouver.

            The rain actually may have been an advantage as it kept the crowds down which meant lines to the attractions were not very long.   Susan and I had attended the World's Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee in 1982 and it was a much different story there--big crowds and long lines.   That visit had been the day after we had gotten married.  We wanted to see the World's Fair that was so close to my Tennessee home and we knew that this would be our only chance to visit since we were going to be on the road with the show all year.  One day at the World's Fair--two World's Fairs --was all we got, but at least we got to go.

          I  don't remember if it was then or another time that we went to the Historic Gastown District of Vancouver but I remember being there and eating in a restaurant.  In fact I find it a bit amazing that in those years I went to two World's Fairs, several major cities, a number of national parks, and I couldn't tell you how many other attractions and I don't remember much about a lot of them.  And yet I can recall details of some of the most absurd events, certain show venues, and quiet little podunks that most travelers would never bother to go to.

          The memory can be an odd trickster.  I've been to Vancouver, BC,  It seemed like a nice place, but I can't tell you much about it.   Someday I'd like to go to Vancouver and actually remember it.

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Richmond, Virginia

Image via Wikipedia

        When I was in middle school in Merrillville, Indiana I was called out of class one day to be introduced to a young man my age who had just moved next door to my family.  Having recently moved from San Diego, California, I was new to the school as well and welcomed the chance to have a new friend in this school where I had not made any friends so far.

         Gordon and his family had moved from Norfolk, Virginia.  It was my first direct exposure to a strong Southern accent and I found it somewhat amusing to hear as did some of the other boys in the neighborhood.  A couple of the boys used to taunt Gordon by imitating the call they would sometimes hear coming from his mother as she called out, "Go-din!"

         My new friend's mother was a sweet lady with the demeanor of a Southern aristocrat. His step father was a soft-spoken man who seemed to be at work a lot.  Gordon was the sole offspring still living at home.  He was full of turmoil and could display a mean streak sometimes, but he had become my friend and I tolerated a lot from him.

          One thing that used to irritate me though was how he was always bragging about Virginia and especially Norfolk.  I don't think I'd ever been to Virginia at that time and perhaps I was a bit jealous since I had thought of myself as well-traveled and here was a place I'd never been.  Besides, Gordon's arrogant attitude about Virginia really bugged me.  I developed a resentment about Virginia.

           By the time I was in my mid-20s, after my family had been living in Tennessee for several years, I had traveled throughout Virginia and had softened a bit about the state, but I still retained this ridiculous distaste for the state.  That is until I met Cathy.

            The young lady who would become my first wife was from Richmond, Virginia and we would frequently go there to stay with her family.  I started making friends there and felt very comfortable with the city when we moved there after Cathy became pregnant.

             Richmond actually is a quite attractive city along the James River and conveniently located along the I-95 corridor which extends from New England to Florida.   The city has broad boulevards with stately memorials honoring heroes of the Confederacy.  History is everywhere.  I began to enjoy living in Richmond.

             After our son was born, Cathy and I began traveling with the World of Fantasy Players in 1978.  Whenever we could we'd stay in Richmond.  Virginia had become a part of me and this was the home of my wife and newly born son.   And now, along with East Tennessee,  Richmond was now a place that I too thought of as home.


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Orillia, Ontario

                                       

      Touring with the World of Fantasy Players often was a thing of habit.  There would usually be new cast members from year to year, but the tour was essentially the same.   I liked it that way.  Playing the same towns at about the same time of year made scheduling easier for me.

        One of the routines that became established was the jump from North Bay, Ontario to Orillia which was about two and a half hours south.  We were always there in late March or early April so winter conditions still prevailed.

        After the North Bay show we'd be on the road by about 9:30 that night.  Before leaving town I'd hit the drive-through at the McDonald's and pick up a quarter pounder with cheese, fries, and a large coke.  It seemed like I developed a taste for that meal as a part of the routine.

        With our meals to go, we'd hit the road for the journey south.  There wasn't much traffic at that time of night so travel was easy.  On a few occasions we had to deal with snow, with near blizzard conditions at least once. This was not a deterrence.  After all we were road warriors, troupers who like the post office were not deterred by weather of any kind.  Bad weather might slow us down, but it never stopped us.

       In Orillia we'd head to the Highwayman Inn where I'd made our reservations.  It would be around midnight and freezing cold.  This would be our home for the next two nights.  I'd arrange for a room that had sliding door access since my wife and I had one young child at the time which required taking a lot of stuff into the room.

        The rooms at the Highwayman smelled of pizza, paint, and chlorine.  The motel had a large indoor pool and a steamy vapor permeated the interior of the place.  When we'd go to the restaurant for breakfast we'd cross a footbridge the spanned the swimming pool.  The pool room was like a sauna there was so much steam, but it was a refreshing respite from the cold outside air.

       We'd have time the next day to go downtown.  Orillia is a small town overlooking Lake Simcoe, the fourth largest lake in Ontario.  At that time of year the town is quiet and seemed almost empty when we were there.  Summer brings vacationers who come to enjoy the lake recreation.  Typically we might do laundry or go to some local stores.  And then of course we'd go to restaurants and eat.  Life on the road consists of eating in restaurants much of the time.

        Orillia is the home of folk/rock singer Gordon Lightfoot who had a string of hits in the 1970s.  Also from Orillia is blogger Ron Easton whose blog is Dads Unlimited.

        The last time I visited Orillia was in 1991.  That was my last tour with the World of Fantasy Players.  Orillia has probably changed a great deal since I was there last, but I'm sure most places have.

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Kamloops, British Columbia

Kamloops, BC (Photo credit: RobertCiavarro)

         When the tour coordinator for the World of Fantasy Players informed me that one of our promoters was in jail in Kamloops, British Columbia I was a bit taken aback, but not overly surprised either.  As manager of the road company it seemed like there was always something new for me to deal with.  Getting Jim Fletcher out of the slammer was just another adventure of life on the road.

         Jim Fletcher was a nice enough guy, but I could tell he'd been around a bit and didn't always play according to the rules.   After all he was a promoter and was expected to bend the truth sometimes and even circumvent appropriate legal channels.  His biggest mistake was going to work in Canada without the proper papers.  I always obtained the paperwork for the tour members--a bit of a hassle, but not that big of a deal.

          I don't know if Jim had something to hide, like an arrest record--it wouldn't have surprised me--but it could have been that he just didn't want to deal with the time involved in getting the work papers or maybe the authorities wouldn't have passed him because the job should have been done by a Canadian promoter.  Whatever the case was, Jim was now behind bars and since I was the closest one there it was up to me to help get him out.

        We had an extra day or two that we weren't working so we headed up to Kamloops, where our next show would be anyway.  I didn't expect how much the terrain would look like the Western United States. With the cactus on the hillsides it looked like we could have been in Arizona.  There were other things that gave the area a decidedly Western aura, including rodeos.

          After arriving in town I went down to the hoosegow--a Western term for jail--to visit with poor ol' Jim.  He looked kind of dejected sitting in his cell with his jail garb, but it probably wasn't so much being there as it was not being able to have access to alcohol.   Like many a promoter, Jim liked his booze.

          I had the money that was necessary to spring him and soon he was a free man.  But he still had to go to face the music in court.  I don't recall much of the process, but it all went pretty quickly.  Soon we were before a magistrate bedecked in red robes and a white wig like you'd see in the movies.  I guess that's the way it is in Canada and the theatricality of the whole thing caught me off guard.

           In the end, the court took most of the money Jim had made while there in Kamloops  and the judge sternly told him to skedaddle his way out of town and get out of the country.  I don't think Jim ever went back to try to work in Canada again, but that was fine.  Jim was one heck of a good promoter and always had plenty of work in the states.

          We went on to perform our show in Kamloops.  As was usually the case, the Canadian audience loved our show.  But that was the last time we performed in Kamloops.

         

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Joplin, Missouri

Image via Wikipedia

         Sometime in the late 1960s I read a story in Life magazine that made mention of "Red's Chili Parlor" in Joplin, Missouri as having some chili that was not to be missed if in any way possible.   I wrote it down in my notebook of "things planned for my future".

          I had every intent of visiting "Red's" during the summer of 1970 when I was making a hitchhiking grand tour of the United States that never quite made it as far as Joplin.   I kept the notebook with the notation about Red's for when the day came to finally make it to Joplin.

             That day came in 1979, when I was touring with the "Cinderella" tour by the World of Fantasy Players.   We were in Joplin early with a few hours to spend before going to set up the show.  A group of us set out to find Red's and try that legendary chili.

             You know--I don't really remember much about the chili.  It was good as I recall, but I must not have been blown away by it.  Now I know the place was actually called "Fred and Red's" but Red's is easier to remember.  Maybe one day I'll have to go back and give the chili another try.  Apparently the place is still in business.

Hastings, Nebraska

Panoramic View of Hastings, Nebraska. Photograph taken in 1909. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

            Another yearly stop for the World of Fantasy Players was Hastings, Nebraska which is about 25 miles south of Grand Island.  This was one of those towns that we would just go into to play the show and then leave. When I managed this troupe of performers of family oriented stage productions, I tried to make it so we could stay in the same motel for more than one night whenever possible.  The proximity of Hastings to the other play date town of Grand Island made a multiple night stay in the latter town an ideal situation.

           Hastings is a quaint little town of twenty-some thousand people.  It's a heartland town surrounded by farm country.   Hastings experienced a boom in the late 1800s with the advent of the railroad.  One of the notable claims to fame of Hastings is that it was the birthplace of Kool-Aid in 1927.

           Since we basically just popped into town to perform our production, we never got to experience much of the town.  I'm not sure we even ever ate there.  For us it was a matter of arrive in town, do the show, and leave.

           Our performance was always at the wonderfully ornate Masonic Temple.  Probably built in the earlier part of the 20th century, the building was impressive with an elegantly decorated interior that had been well maintained.  The stage was a vintage vaudeville era fixture with elaborate backdrops hung in a high fly loft.  There were several scenery changes that depicted palace scenes and Egyptian themed backgrounds with pyramids and date trees.  Despite its age the entire rigging and lighting system was in impeccable working order.

          The "house" or audience seating area was also immaculate with plush theater seats and fancy carved wood-paneled walls.  I would walk around the inside of the theater and admire everything inside the performance hall and in the outside hallways and lobby.  This theater never failed to amaze me and the others in the show.

         The biggest difficulty was the load-in.   The stage loading door was at the top of a steep narrow ramp that was barely wide enough to back our show truck on.  We would manage with careful maneuvering and a precarious climb out of the truck window for the driver.

           Once we were in and had the stage set and props in place, it made for a truly magical performance.  We always had a good crowd in Hastings and they always seemed to be quite appreciative of the show.  The performances in Hastings were a special part of each year's tour.

            Do you have any unique old theaters near where you live?    Is there something that makes your workplace especially memorable?


       

Framingham, Massachusetts

Faneuil Hall, Boston, Massachusetts Deutsch: Faneuil Hall, Boston (Massachusetts) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

       
          It's not that I remember much of anything specific about Framingham, Massachusetts as much as I remember the generalities of circumstance.  Framingham just happened to fit the bill at the time.  It was a convenient location that suited our needs.

        In March of 1981, I was in New England on tour with the World of Fantasy Players' stage production of "The Magical Land of Oz".  I'd just begun managing the show and one of my goals was to make the tour as comfortable  as it could be for the players, yet cost effective for the show owner who was paying the expenses.

         Since most of the cast members were couples I tried to arrange things so we could set up housekeeping of sorts whenever I had the opportunity to do so.  We would be working a number of towns around the Boston area and also have several days off.  Staying near the city made sense.

          Checking before we arrived, I found an extended stay hotel in Framingham that had efficiency apartments and adequate parking for our show truck.  It was conveniently located about 20 miles from city center so that we could easily commute to our shows on work days while being close enough to visit the city on our off days.

           The hotel was clean and comfortable.   For the next week or so we were able to move in and not have to lug suitcases in and out of rooms like we normally would on our schedule of one-nighters.  We could actually cook meals and save money not eating in restaurants.  For a short period I felt like I was living in Framingham, Massachusetts.

            On the days off we visited Bunker Hill, Faneuil Hall, Downtown Boston, and Salem among other places.  The work days were almost always pretty easy and the days off were like being on a vacation where most of our expenses were paid.

             What do I remember most about Framingham?  The bagels, lox, and cream cheese.  The market where we shopped sold freshly made bagels and lox by the pound at the deli counter.   We ate a lot of bagels with cream cheese and lox.  It was all I really needed.

           Have you ever stayed in an efficiency when traveling?  Do you like bagels with lox and cream cheese?

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