Updated MAY 26, 2008
|
|
of Bob Moats |
|
The story continues...
1967 and 1968, before I went into the military in 69, were two very busy years for me.
Fresh out of High School, I goofed off for a bit then got a job working at the General
Motors Technical Center on Van Dyke in Warren. I got the job through my school friend,
Dale King and I worked in distribution printing out huge duplicate blueprints for the
draftsmen and engineers at the center. I still had my Chevy Belair that got me around
and one day I was driving through the the old Forest City parking lot on Gratiot and
13 Mile, when a car cutting across the wrong way clipped my front right head light
knocking it out. I used masking tape to put the light back in place and a week later,
Paul Petrucci and
I took a girl I met at the Macomb Mall where she worked and a friend of her's to the
Shrine Circus in Detroit. On the way down in a pouring rain my head light on the left
burnt out and Paul enquired as to how long would my tape job on the other light
hold out in the rain. We did make it there and back safely.
At that time I was also discovering teen dance clubs. I started going to places like
the Crow's Nest East in St. Clair Shores, the Chatterbox in Warren and the the Black
Boot in Roseville.
I also started to manage bands around this time, I had two, one named
"Tish" and the other was "Every Pig and His Brother". These were hard core headbanger
bands and I managed to book them into the Macomb Sheriff's Association dance at a
VFW hall in Mt. Clemens. The headliner band for the night was the immortal "MC5"
known for the famous phrase and song title "Kick Out the Jams, MotherF*ckers".
One of my bands opened the show and then the MC5 would play, then my other band, but
the second band ask me if they could play before the 5 because everyone would leave
by then. I went to the back room where the band and their manager, the notorious John
Sinclair were lounging. It was some scene, all these rockers and their groupies and
a whole bunch of police out in the dance area. I asked Sinclair about the switch and
they were more than helpful toward the newbie band. The night went well.
The Chatterbox in Warren was a soul club, not a black club but featured bands that
played the soul type of music, picture the "Blues Brothers". One night there I ran
into a girl I had met at that club
before and she was with a girl named Chris (remember that name, there's a quiz later).
We danced and had a nice time but we went separate ways that night. I used to go to
the Universal Mall in Warren and at a store that sold music I met a girl named Jan
who I started dating on a regular basis. She was a couple of years younger than I, and
had great looking legs. We used to sit down in her parents basement on a metal porch
glider watching TV and fooling around. Needless to say, she was my first time. Oh you
know what I mean. We did the deed on that squeaky porch glider and I was surprised
that her parent didn't wonder what we were doing making all that racket. Well, good
things end and Easter that year I left my family to go visit her and stopped at the
Chatterbox first before going to her house. I discovered she was in the club already
but sitting with some guy. I went back out to my car and waited. Long story short
I caught her making out with this guy in his car. They left to go to McDonald's on
Van Dyke and I confronted them. Shocked the crap out of her and I left. I saw her
one more time the next day at the store she worked and said good bye.
Around that time I also discovered a club on the border of Detroit in Warren. It was
an after hours place called The Drum Beat Club. No alcohol, but served fake mixed
drinks and featured great soul bands including black performers such as Gino Washington
and Danny Woods. The clientele was white but the music was soul. It was open from 11pm
till 6am and since I was still just 19 years old, I had to ask my parents if it was
all right to go, which they agreed. After going there a while I got settled into knowing
the owner, who's name was Matt, and some of the regulars who hung out there. One in
particular was named Howard Holland and we became good friends. One night when I
got to the Drumbeat, I found out that Matt was finally getting married to his girlfriend,
Joanne, that same night and I was invited to the reception. I got there and found out
what an "open bar" meant. I was a bit older looking due to having a beard so I
was not questioned when I would get a drink.
To say the least, I was a bit tipsy and somehow ended up dancing with some big
sized blonde and after the reception ended up in the parking lot doing a little necking.
The next time I saw Matt and Joanne, she told me that girl was her cousin and I had made
her happy that night. I barely remembered that night, but I was glad to do my part. After
that night, Howard or I would have a bottle of Cutty Sark scotch in our car and when
we would get to the Drumbeat, we would inbibe a few shots and the rest of the night we
would party.
I also found a club just north of Mt. Clemens on Hall Road called "Shimaly's Dancing
Domes". The building was actually three geodesic domes and was run by a friendly
bear of a man named Mike Shimaly and his wife. I was spreading myself thin going to
all these clubs but each one had it's own style and I liked the change in music,
I was a dancing fool. After a couple of weeks going there I had an idea, I knew a
number of bands, so I asked Mike if I could rent the domes for one night to hold a
battle of the bands. He agreed and I lined everything up. That night everything was
set and we had a modest turnout but I discovered there was the Oakland Music Festival
going on that night too, and a lot of people opted to go there. I didn't make any
money, lost a little but it was a good night. After that Mike and his wife would
come to the Drum Beat Club whenever I was doing my magic show there.
One day in late 1968 I recieved a friendly letter from my government inviting me
to join Uncle Sam in his conquest of the world, I was drafted. But I will say I
was not unhappy, my life was really going nowhere at the time and so it was an
adventure. Howard Holland, at that time, was a lieutenant in the Michigan National
guard and he advised me on how to adapt to military life. I kept going back to
the Drumbeat up to the weekend before I was scheduled to go into active service
and I met a rather interesting girl, Lisa Mathias, and we ended up in my car
parked near her parents house with her sending me off to the war. While we were
enjoying ourselves, a light popped into my window and there stood this huge cop.
He explained that there was a complaint the someone was racing their car engine
and I explained I was going into the army on Monday and I had no reason to attract
attention while we were parked. He agreed and told me of a better place to park.
We moved but just talked the rest of the evening and I dropped her off after
getting her address. I went home with good memories to get me through the army
induction torture.
More to be added as I remember it....
|
|
Picture Left: Mom, brother Mike and I. Picture right: Dad, Me and Mike with Doobie.
High school friend Dale King.
Friend Paul Petrucci
Dale visiting in my room.
|
436