Don’t Believe A Word I Say with Bob Segarini

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

After spending the night in Butte Montana getting repair work done on GU-11, The Wackers and their loved ones are back on the road. As the weather goes from bad to worse, the Circus continues East towards Montreal with trepidation, hoping against hope that the rest of the trip will pass without incident, tempers won’t flare, and the ice forming on their fingers and toes will not do any permanent damage…

From Melanie Bishop’s Journal…

Jan 15^th, 1972
“Originality is often the product of desperate circumstances. You know how desperate you are when it is a case of sink or swim”

Still on the road, we all hope there will be no more fuckups. It is -31 degrees outside. The only way to truly appreciate what 31 below is, is to spend the night in a meat locker. Even though the Gull is a beauty and comfortable for nine passengers, the VW company hasn’t figured out how to heat the windshield and keep the van warm. The temperature in the Gull Frigidaire was 20 below and the windshield was about 50 below Bob is driving and freezing as are all of us. Everyone is in all the clothes they can possibly get on and are still freezing.
Every one is too cold to be mad or feel silly for wanting to go on this trip in the first place. We could have all flown, but the Wackers wanted to save money and drive also it gives them a car to drive around in Montreal.  We just did not know there would be no heat…

I’m driving the GU-11 down the highway, (or it’s sliding down the highway and I’m just holding onto the steering wheel because my hands are frozen to it, I’m not sure which), wishing I were by a pool in L.A, or on the porch of Wackering Heights in Eureka, or anywhere that requires tanning butter or sunblock, smoking a joint and drinking a Jack and Coke. Not having spent a winter in Montreal yet, this was easily the coldest I have ever been in my life.

Yes.

Colder than a well digger’s ass, a witch’s tit, and Coolio’s career, combined!

I can’t help thinking of the ill-fated Donner Party.

“Donner party, table for 6.”

“Donner party, table for 5.”

“Donner party, table for 4.”

Ewww…praying we don’t break down out here…

I remember how excited we all were to find out that the Gull had the optional gas heater. Volkswagens were notorious for their inability to generate any heat in the passenger compartment unless they were on fire.

We now believed the gas heater was a joke or just a knob under the driver’s seat that wasn’t attached to anything. Another payback for losing the two world wars, courtesy of Der Automacher.

Fuck, it’s cold.

The last cup of coffee I got at a pit stop was cool by the time I got from the diner to the car.

Everybody looks like a grade school kid in a snowsuit. We are all wearing 2 pairs of pants, a t-shirt, shirt, sweater, jacket, coat, and a pair of gloves and two pairs of socks.

Just as I’m thinking at least nothing else serious had happened since the transmission incident… I spot B1RD flying down the highway with her rear doors open, the gear still inside intact, not tumbling out all over the road, probably because it was all frozen solid…

From Melanie’s Journal…

The back doors of the Bird flew open. Rumor has it that Ernie wanted some socks out of his bag and the door did not close right because of the cold. We were all waiting for all of the equipment to come tumbling out of the Bird onto the highway but Big Bruce was watching out for us. Bird parked and the Gull went back to get rope to tie the doors shut and coffee to warm us up. When we got back the ace roadies had fixed it so we just gave them the coffee. Now Ernie and Cheryl have both caused a mishap so they can’t really say that the girls cause all the trouble… Thanks Ernie, we love you.

Oh, fer chrissakes! What the fuck did we do to deserve this? Did somebody bone god’s girlfriend backstage at a gig, or do I owe Jesus money? This is the worst string of bad luck since ever! Tempers, and depression, are starting to rear their ugly little heads. We were lucky though. None of the gear fell out and bounced down the highway

The cold had actually made the metal in the doors contract, and the locking mechanism no longer reached across the gap between the doors. The rope was wrapped around the Bird, making it look like a cheap piece of luggage, but the doors never flew open again.

We pushed on…

From Tim Stull’s Journal…

Saturday, January 15^th, 1972

Much, much later in Minnesota almost to Duluth. It’s about -20? outside which is fairly warm compared to the ridiculous moving temp of -48?. Last night we heard from the locals that this is the coldest it’s been in 50 years. It’s so cold outside that the snot in your nose freezes within seconds. The longest time I spent outside was about 8 minutes when (at about 2:15 am last night) the back doors on the truck broke and wouldn’t close. My hands turned a light shade of purple in spite of the gloves and the tip of my nose began to turn white. The cold had Steve to the point where it was all he could do to move. He ended up laying on the floor for about ten minutes with a sleeping bag over him trying to thaw. One of Mikes toes turned a light greenish purple this morning. (Fargo, N. Dakota, temp -35?). It took about 5 minutes of rubdown and sitting by the heater to get it to a fairly natural reddish blue. The heaters in the GU-11 are so weak that all the heat has to be blown over the windshield to keep it from icing up. At times such as these I wonder how people 100 or so years ago managed to survive in sub zero temperatures like we’re having. Got so cold in the bus (GU-11) that Ernie (after taking 2 q-rations to get to sleep) woke up screaming, throwing things, totally out of his head from the cold. Yes I can hear Usher now “Shit, you guys have got to suffer more, you’re all getting fat!” End of quote. And that’s the way it looks here in Tamarack, Minn. This is Major Tim Stull saying “Goodnight from the gallant but slightly frostbitten crews of the B1RD and GU-11.”

Poor Ernie. The cold, the sock related door problem, and the close quarters finally got to him. He flipped out.

No one could blame him. This was becoming a matter of getting to Montreal just to prove we could do it against the odds we have been given. So now, the gig, the vacation, the good time we had all embarked on, has given way to the simple desire to just survive. We became determined to kick this trip’s ass, no matter what was thrown at us.

We are the Wackers.

We are invincible.

Hey Mel, where are the Quaaludes?

From Ernie Earnshaw’s Journal…

Jan 15 01:50

Ernie: Gas n’ pee, 7 mi till Bismarck. Made 250 miles, picked up recon aircraft at N.D. border. It’s -21? out and ice is bad all over inside. Had to buy sox, borrow flight pants from Maj. Stull. A lifesaver! Aircraft are probably from Records, trying to rip off our film.

03:05 Change to Central Time. B1RD has hatch trouble – we’re all pulled over. Tempers running thin. Oh FUCK!! Siddons, I hope you appreciate this, you cocksucker!!!

03:10 the rear hatch on B1RD is not repaired. My fault probably ‘cause of frozen feet. I bet they’re pissed at me. Possible frozen lock or who knows what. 03:17 Back to gas station to try and get a rope or something to temporarily secure rear hatch on B1RD. What a fucked up deal!!! 21? below charts. Crown Butte exit – more black books material for B1RD bunch. First it was Cheryl’s shifting mishap, then this. I wonder what Mel will come up with? Paula: If I hadn’t of squawked about my frozen tootsies and frost-bit nipples, Ernie wouldn’t have hassled with trying to get my suitcase out of the back of the van. I feel like re-fried shit. The next time I come in contact with any of the B1RD group I’m going to look like a (03:40 started back to rescue the B1RD) guilty puppy with its head low and its tail between its legs.

Randy – “I hate bummers!!”

Where’s the nearest hole I can crawl into?!? 03:45 got rope, heading back to rescue! 04:50 arrived. They fixed it. Yay! 6 miles from Bismarck, about -30? outside. Inside it’s about freezing. It’s 197 mi to Fargo. Col. Earnshaw is Q-ing out for the nite. What next? Tomorrow never more. Having a discussion about shit and its various ramifications. 03:56 under way.

Jan 15 08:08 – Fargo, N. Dakota.

Ernie: I just spent the most “miserablest” night in history. Crashed at 03:56, slept for an indeterminate period of time. Woke up and it all came down on me. A complete crying jag, breakdowns. Thank the lord for my Walla-Bee. We’re in Sambo’s trying to thaw out. I really don’t know what’s what. I’ve got a head full of ideas that are driving me insane. Here’s the food. Alka Seltzer. Sometime during the ordeal, Randy threw June down (literally) for some reason. I can dig it. The frustration of such a situation can lead to incredible things. 09:00 Underway from Fargo, Norm at the stick. Food is good! 09:06 entering Minnesota. At this altitude and temperature both aircraft are making heavy contrails, which leave us vulnerable to enemy attack. Yesterday in Fargo, the ave. temp was -34?, hitting -105? during particularly windy periods. No Comprendé. 09:35 Made end around 180? probably in a fuel dump. What a way to make a living! 09:39 took turn off to Barnesville. What gives? Low on petrol.

09:43 Sistat Readout 180? turn. B1RD has course change. Sometimes I wonder. 09:45 Petrol stop. Definite course change – now heading north. As we get —— more this shit goes wrong, and we’re less able to cope rationally and efficiently. 09:43:30 – Underway north on Minn. Hwy 34 to 32, whatever that means. B1RD is waiting up ahead.

Local quote: “Musta been colder’n blue blazes.”

From Tim Stull’s Journal…

We just left Duluth and Superior, and are headed for Hurley, Kootch’s hometown. We called his aunt from Superior – she was amazed. She hasn’t seen or talked to him in 14 years. He keeps flashing on all the places and things he used to do.

5:05 – Good Christ I feel like I’m going to Alaska by the shape of it. Lots and lots of ice.

Ernie’s temporary slide into that deep, dark, hole we have all experienced at one time or another took morale down several notches and sparked a general period of doom and gloom.

Mel and Norm got into a verbal disagreement, the kind that normally ended in agreeing to disagree, but with frayed nerves, extreme discomfort brought on by the relentless cold, and a feeling of mounting helplessness in our struggle to get warm, and constant worry about being able to successfully navigate the treacherous, icy, road ahead, this disagreement ended with Norm picking Mel up off the rear seat, (all 4 feet, 11 inches, and 100 pounds of her), and depositing her onto the package rack over the rear mounted engine with one single, superhuman display of strength. It wasn’t violent, or mean, he just wanted her to shut up, and decided that the best solution was to put her in storage.

If we had been on a plane, it would have been like he lofted her into an overhead luggage compartment. Mel curled up and fumed silently.

After stopping and spending some time thawing out in the politically incorrectly named Sambo’s, a chain restaurant far superior to Denny’s, but doomed to extinction thanks to the harmless, but badly perceived  name, everyone started to ‘chill’ out, (chill out! Damn, I’m funny…), and that “Old Wack Magic” started to stir.

Sitting there in the brightly lit restaurant, full of great road food and hot coffee, color returning to our cheeks and feeling returning to our fingers and toes, the Circus began to recover it’s footing on the tightrope of life.

It been decided that we would take a slight detour and visit Kootch’s family in the little hamlet of Hurley, Wisconsin, another small, mid-western city whose past glories made it one of the hardest partying stops in the area.

“Hurley, Wisconsin, has nearly 30 bars, a rather unusual number for a town of 2,000. That’s the only tip-off to Hurley’s notorious past, unequaled in all the north woods. “Hurley, Hayward, and Hell,” the saying went- though some people wonder if Cumberland shouldn’t have been added to the list of lawless lumber towns. Three Hurley taverns at the bottom of Silver Street still have strippers.”

Read more here:

http://hunts-upguide.com/hurley_area_detail.html

It is in one of those bars that our next adventure will begin…

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.