Don’t Believe A Word I Say with Bob Segarini

The Rock Files: The Wack and Roll Circus Hits the Road - Part Three

The Wackers have packed up their wives and a girlfriend and headed for Montreal from Eureka California. Just outside of Boise Idaho, the Volkswagon squareback 6 of them are traveling in has experienced a front tire blow-out going 80 miles an hour or so down a steep mountain road and is drifting toward the precipice with no guard rail between them…and certain doom…

There is yelling and screaming, and oddly, some laughter, as the Volks skitters toward the edge of the mountain we’re flying down. I’m wrestling with the steering wheel and repeating the time-worn mantra of doomed travellers everywhere…

”Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!”.I am joined by a chorus of screams, yelps, and white knuckles as I struggle to keep the car on the road.

I remember the brakes.

As gently as possible, I start to apply pressure to the brake pedal while steering the car back towards the center of the roadway. Miraculously, we start to slow down, and the Volkwagon gives up and lets me have my way and we continue down the road because there is no place to pull over. The front right wheel is now squealing like a schoolgirl, the rim starting to slice through the remains of the tire and scraping against the asphalt. There is a gas station at the bottom of the hill. We should reach it in less than a minute.

From Melanie Bishop’s Journal…

Jan 12th 1972
Bob and Cheryl, Ernie, Paula, Randy and I are packed into the Squareback headed for Boise, where Randy’s dad, (who happens to be a VW dealer) has a 1972 Supervan waiting for them to lease.
Tire blew out in Burley Creek, Idaho, Bob landed us safely in front of a gas station full of creepy rednecks that wouldn’t even let us use their restrooms let alone help us. Take that Burley Creek.

You da Ho? No! I da Ho!…

Moments later, we find ourselves in a gas station in the little hamlet of   Burley Creek, Idaho. People are hugging, (a ritual that would play itself out many times on this trip), and relief is giving me a warm feeling, like pee running down my leg. Oh wait, that is pee running down my leg…

While I head for the bathroom, Randy assesses the damage and wanders over to a small group of guys standing around the Coke machine. By the time I come back from peeing against the back of the building, (Zeke and Clem, the gas station’s crackerjack employees, informed me that I couldn’t use the restroom because my hair might clog the drain in the sink), Tim, Steve, and Mike had pulled in and were talking with the others about our near miss. Randy comes back from talking to the locals. “They want to know if we’re girls or boys”, he says, weary of a phrase rock musicians had been putting up with since 1964. Oh goody, we’re in Hooterville with a flat tire and Homer and Jethro are gonna watch us try to change a tire all by ourselves and maybe hurt ourselves in the process. I guess we’ll just have to show Burley Idaho how we roll. I ask Tim if he wouldn’t mind changing the tire. I don’t want to break a nail.

Mel is hopping up and down because Cletus and Delbert won’t let her use the can either, (“It’s outta order, girlie”) so she decides to pout.

Mel was, and is, quite a character. There was a time when we would refer to her and Cherie as Lucy and Ethel, because no matter what scheme, or plan, or idea they had, it would inevitably end with either hilarity, or an injury. They were constantly up to something, and for the most part, their ideas and their execution, were somehow plagued with sit-com worthy silliness.

They paraded around Wackering Heights sometimes dressed like actresses from the ‘30’s, or characters from F. Scott Fitzgerald novels. There were feather boas and vintage clothing everywhere. They toiled over stunts for the band to pull for publicity. They wrote reams of verbiage, documenting the band and its members. They planned a book, a movie, a concert on the moon. Mel danced in front of the stage, (and sometimes on it), at every gig of ours she came to. Cherie meanwhile, would do the books, keep track of gigs and generally act as resident manager, (even though we had a local ‘manager’ named Gary Forncrook, a man we were suspicious of living up to his name), and dream of putting the band on the map. Then the two of them would huddle in the corner, giggle, and the next thing we knew, we would be explaining to them why playing suspended from the ceiling with our guitars on fire was not practical.

Mel was in constant motion, and we all had trouble keeping up with her. Randy once said that keeping her amused was like trying to put a cat in a bathtub full of water. That’s as good a description as I have ever heard. Where Paula, Ernie’s girlfriend, and Cheryl, my lovely and supportive wife, were calmer and usually a bit more reserved, Mel and Cherie considered themselves members of the band, and in many ways, that’s exactly what they were. Regardless, we, all of us, were family, and we lived inside a bubble that very few people could penetrate. We were, by every definition of the word, a circus. By turns, carnies, barkers, clowns and animals, a love of music, the smell of greasepaint and the roar of the crowd is what drove our little band of warriors, and it was a wonderful band to be a part of as long as you had a sense of humour and the patience of a Saint.

From Melanie’s Journal…

Jan 12^th Arrived Boise in cramped but good form. Randy’s mom fixed the circus dinner, and supplied us all with showers and beds.

Jan 13th
Randy’s mom fixed us all breakfast. New van is a beauty. All ready to go. Van is big promotion from the squareback. All couples and Kootch are riding in the luxury of the super van now dubbed Gull. Everyone is in fine spirits they all burst into a rousing chorus of America the Beautiful ending in “Yeah”  ‘Yeah’ ‘Yeahs” .. It is so hard for anyone out side of this group to communicate with us we are untouchable, a floating amoeba of insanity and perversion. I feel like I’m trapped in a now, new, nutty movie. Bob and Kootch are running through the Nick Danger routine again.

Boise will be Boise…

Whenever the Circus found itself surrounded by sanity and pleasant, normal people, we discovered a calmer footing for some reason, and slowly unwound, going from the usual crazed band of gypsies, to an almost tolerable cult of fresh faced boys and girls. Like the anti-Borg, we would be assimilated by our surroundings, and become part of the landscape, blending in like a worm in a plate of spaghetti.

Randy’s dad, Norm Senior, reminded everyone of that other Norm, Norman Rockwell, and his home and demeanor backed that thought up. Randy’s parents are sweet and caring, and took us in as their own during our overnight stay in Boise. Well rested and well fed, we looked forward to getting back on the road and continuing our journey to fame, fortune, and the majestic city of Montreal. After all, surely the worst was over…

Randy had picked up our new Van which was promptly named GU-11, or “Gull”, by Kootch and Ernie, and it was a beautiful example of German engineering. It even came equipped with a gas heater. Maybe we would need that later on. After breakfast we packed our luggage into the Gull, and prepared to leave on the next leg of our quest. I figure we can do somewhere between 700 and 1000 miles before we have to stop…maybe more if we nap and take turns driving.

The later day optimist continues to fool himself…

From Tim Stull’s Journal…

Thursday, January 13^th, 1972

“Today we start for Montreal. We have acquired a Volkswagen bus for the band members transportation. It was either that or a Pontiac station wagon. Its code numbers are GU-11. Goes real well with B1RD. Right now I’m sitting in the Sands Motel n Boise. Norm’s dad was kind enough to provide rooms for us here – that is the four who he didn’t have space for in his house (which is one of the finest places I’ve seen in a long time.)

From what weather reports say, the rest the of the nation is having 100 to 150 mph winds accompanied by very heavy snow. If this is true then I expect we’ll really hace a time of it getting across the US. Oh yes another thing, Steve and I received another field promotion to the rank of Major. This rank entails the majority of the road management and of things to do. A shitty gig, but it must be done. Actually, Steve and I did ¾ of it before Forncrook was dismissed anyway. Major Tim Stull signing out for now.

The route we have decided to take is I-94. Weather is getting much better. There is light snow and wind throughout Montana, N. Dakota and Minn.”

From Melanie’s Journal…

Thursday, January 13^th

“Fuck man
Cameras flash continuously Kootch taking pictures of the Bird and the Bird taking pictures of the Gull.  “I realize it’s hard to talk with a tongue  in your mouth”
Cheryl: “Pocatella”
Bob: “If you worked in a bank, I would every night”
Roll me a joint
Roll me a joint
…a woman’s work is never done”

The adventure continues…

The weather seems to be okay, GU-11 has that new car smell, (which will disappear soon due to cigarettes, spilled booze, takeout burgers and chicken, and the pot), and everyone is in a mood that can only be described as “jolly”.

Cruisin’ down the Interstate, country music whipping out of the radio, (no rock and roll to be found in the wilds of Idaho), Ernie and Paula have their heads buried in their books, Norm’s, (Randy is), driving, Cheryl and I are talking and Mel is being Mel. Kootch is busy taking pictures of B1RD and B1RD is responding in kind. “Help Me Make It Through The Night” comes on the radio.

For the first time since we left Eureka, things are humming along quite nicely. Everyone seems to be settled in and there is a quiet excitement just under the cozy surface. This is going to be great. Here we are, good friends, headed for an exotic destination that promises to be a grand and productive time, and confident in the knowledge that our near miss driving into Boise was behind us and fading quickly from memory. At least we’ll have an exciting story to tell after the trip is over.

Cheryl turns toward me after looking out the window for a few minutes. “I can drive stick, let me have a turn driving”, she says, strawberry blonde hair shining in the sunlight. “I want to help too”.

Norm pulls over and gives up the wheel. Cheryl and I hop in the two front seats. Cheryl’s a good driver I’m glad she’s taking some of the work load up, and proud of her for volunteering.

Did I say we would have a good story to tell after the trip is over? Silly me. There would be more than one, as we were about to find out…

Continued next Wednesday in The Rock Files…

That’s enough for now. Email me at segarini@fyimusic.ca with your comments, complaints, and thoughts…and remember…don’t believe a word I say.

Bob “The Iceman” Segarini was in the bands The Family Tree, Roxy, The Wackers, The Dudes, The Segarini Band, and Cats and Dogs, and nominated for a Juno for production in 1978. He also hosted “Late Great Movies” on CITY TV, was a producer of Much Music, and an on-air personality on CHUM FM, Q107, SIRIUS Sat/Rad’s Iceberg 95, (now 85), and now provides content for radiothatdoesntsuck.com with RadioZombie, The Iceage, and PsychShack. Along with the love of his life, Jade (Pie) Dunlop, (who hosts and writes “I’ve Heard That Song Before” on RTDS), continues to write, make music, and record.