Don’t Believe A Word I Say with Bob Segarini

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

When I was a kid, one of the great joys of living in Stockton California was its close proximity to so many wondrous places. Driving west, you could be in San Francisco in just over an hour. Two more hours would put you in Santa Cruz, and a little further brought you to Monterey and Carmel. To the south, only five hours away was Hollywood, Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm, and Sea World. North, on Highway 99, the historic capitol of California, Sacramento, home of Sutter’s Fort, the Children’s Museum, and the Sacramento Train Museum. So many great places to visit for a child. So many wonderful experiences waiting for you, shaping your life, building memories that would last forever. But as wonderful as all those things were, the crowning jewel was the ability to jump in the car with my folks and head east on Highway 88 and within 30 minutes, begin the climb into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada’s.

During the summer, we could be in Pinecrest, swimming in Strawberry Lake, or driving a couple of hours further, Yosemite, having milkshakes in Camp Curry, tubing through the valley on the Merced River, watching the firefall plummet down the face of Glacier Point, or climb Half Dome, Vernal and Nevada Falls, or explore the rock caves of the Ahwahnee Indian Village by Mirror Lake, all the while escaping the triple digit weather Stockton suffered at least 3 months out of the year.

As great as it was during the summer, the fall and winter was when a planned trip to the east was anxiously awaited, the excitement and anticipation made it impossible to sleep, because less than an hour away, you could leave the valley, always warm, sometimes hot, even in the winter months, and lose yourself making snow angels, having snowball fights, toboggan down Carl’s Ski Hill, or play in the deep, powdery snow in Long Barn, Dodge Ridge, or Tahoe. You could drive to the snow when you wanted to. You could simply enjoy the winter wonderland any time you desired, and be back home in a couple of hours to a place where you could mow your lawn on New Years Day most years. I loved the snow. Bundled up, toasty in my winter togs, youthful energy and excitement warming me from within, I loved watching the snow come down, like being in a snow globe, the magic of glistening snowflakes, (no two alike), melting on your tongue, blanketing the surrounding mountains and trees with a glistening, glorious hush.

What the fuck was I thinking…

From Melanie’s Journal…

January 15^th 1972

Ernie freaked out last night. He cried and threw every thing in Cheryl’s purse all over the car. Poor Ernie. He is the oldest of us and can’t understand why he is trapped in a frozen VW van driving to Montreal. We are all still in the cube wondering why the sun doesn’t come out and thaw us all out so we can see if we are dead or alive. It is now 9:25 am Central Standard time and the circus has just eaten breakfast at a warm Sambo’s but we are still frozen. My hands haven’t thawed out yet and my toes are hopeless. Bob swears he is a double amputee because he can not feel his legs. ” Even our toes are ice” Help I am trapped in a popsicle on wheels.

From Ernie’s Journal…

15:18 Entering Wisconsin heading east on 213 – now in Superior. Thick ice on road – many brick buildings and diesel smell. Road very icy – 1” thick in places.

Sky: “Get me the fuck out of here – fast!!”

Randy: “No! Slow!”

Following B1RD to Red Owl. 15:30 trying to score some Sterno. It seems to be unheard of in this neck of the woods. (The whole goddamn Midwest-northeast.) NOTE: This reminds Ernie of Miss. 115. Bob says “I’m going on strike!”

Every time I step out of the GU-11 I feel like I’ve just stepped out of an elevator. Mr. Ground goes wiggly-waggle. Norm says: “Ern looks like Scabbie Haze.” 15:40 Departure.

Randy: “I hope the car doesn’t burn down.”

Bob: “Well, if it does you’ll be one of the first of 6 people to know about it.”

We’re in 2^nd lap of Red Owl derby. What gives? B1RD scored 8 cans of Sterno brand canned heat. Approx. 16:08 – Underway for Hurley, Wis.

?? Blue Blazes! We’ve got heat/

A little Sterno betwixt my feet. ??

17:20 – Smothered Sterno fire. It didn’t give off much heat and it made Ernie’s eyes burn and my head dizzy and dozy. It’s colder than a witches teat in here. Even my toes are ice! (To tune of “Time Will Carry On”:) My, my, my, myeeeee ass is froze, and here with the weather is cyclone.

?? Here comes Santa Clone

Here comes Santa Clone

Right down Santa Clone way! ??

Hours later, numb from the relentless cold and the erroneously labeled gas heater’s absolute uselessness, the weather, which up until now has been the worst I have ever experienced on any trip I have ever taken, has somehow managed to get even worse. The snow is coming down sideways, it’s a gazillion below, no one can feel anything in their extremities, and there is the same kind of ‘a great disturbance in the Force’, stomach-churning anxiety Obi Wan felt when Darth Asshole smoked Alderan in Star Wars: A New Hope. We can barely make out the exit sign into Hurley, Wisconsin, and almost miss the turn. Miraculously, the snow seems to peter out as we pull into the small, forgotten lumber town where the majority of Kootch’s family live, and as our visibility improves, we find ourselves driving up a one intersection downtown street, while Kootch reads off the directions he got from his aunt over the phone. It helps that we can now see the street signs…it’s just after 7:00 pm.

From Melanie’s Journal…

The circus arrives in Hurley, Wisconsin, where we spent one of the more unforgettable nights of insanity. Kootch stopped to see his relatives he hadn’t seen in 15 years. We arrived at Kootch’s Aunt Linda’s house at approximately 7:30 Jan 15 to be overwhelmed with home made whiskey and food. By 9:30 Kootch’s family had pretty much convinced us that the circus needed a rest and should stay at Kootch’s Cousin Toddy’s house for the night.

We were just going to have a brief layover, defrost, and get back on the road. We were already so hopelessly behind that I had to call Montreal from Kootch’s Aunt Linda’s house, and explain our situation and hope they would understand and give us an extra day to get there. I was surprised that the Moustache’s Major Domo, Norm Silver, was so easily accommodating, saying he would hold the current band over for one day, and let us start in the 18^th instead of the 17^th. Of course, he’d have to dock us a day’s pay.

Oh joy…

Within minutes of hanging up the phone, a few things happened that made us change our minds about just stopping to let Kootch have a short visit with his relatives. One was an amazing spread that Aunt Linda had laid out for us, another was a fireplace complete with raging fire, and another was Kootch’s cousin Toddy, an irrepressible character who would have been at home in a sit-com playing either the wacky neighbor, the jack of all trades know-it-all, or the fun loving bad boy. Think Fonzie, by way of Charlie Sheen, by way of Sgt. Bilko. There was one other thing that convinced some of us that we should spend the night. The upstairs bathtub at Aunt Linda’s house contained the fruit of her husband, Uncle Harry’s, labour of love. Gallons of home made whiskey. The smoothest, sweetest, whiskey I had ever tasted. Armed with coffee mugs, and full of Aunt Linda’s home cooked meal, we began to dip into the newly christened Lake Lush, and our problems, concerns, and miserable experiences evaporated in a cloud of sweetness and warmth. In no time at all, we were glowing like birthday candles.
From Melanie’s Journal…
Steve, Mike, and Tim are the only ones against it as we still have most of the trip to go and it was already the 15th. The band decided to have a meeting to determine the plan for the evening. Thank Bruce the majority had frozen the night before in the Gull, (now dubbed the Frigidaire), and weren’t about to spend another night in the confines of the Ice car. After three hours of booze and food at Aunt Linda’s, the girls retired to Toddy’s house to shower and sleep. Meanwhile, the guys were taken out on the town by Cousin Toddy.

From Ernie’s Journal…

Freeze Easy!

20:15 hrs. We’ve been at Kootch’s folks house for a huge meal, great homemade whiskey and a band meeting. Uncle Harry got Kootch. The whiskey is like velvet. It gets nuttier and nuttier here in Hurley, Wis. Back in somewhere, I flunked glare-ice driving in Ashland, Wis. Oh, woe. I’m currently in the middle of the band meeting. Results later. Kootch says: “It’s cosmic.” Two Foot’s one toke over the line. Voice raising, swearing, eyes rolling, etc. Half of me wants to stay overnight or cut out. ¿Quien Sabé? Debate – are we same or is Mike gonna worry about whether his chops are up. Bob’s making phone calls to somewhat solidify our situation. To leave tonight or in the AM. Kootch is boggled. He ain’t been here in 15 years. My energy level, I find, ain’t up to the rest of the band. Shit, we’re all different, but I’m the elder and therefore more rundown or something. I can’t keep the frantic pace that say, Bob can. Witness my complete freakout last nite. It was hairy. I know I did it, but I can’t relate to having done it. I can’t take the fast pace ‘cause I buckle right in. Poor Walla-Bee! I hope she c’n take it. I love her!

21:15 hrs. We’re staying in Hurley at Kootch’s relatives for the nite. Lookin’ good. Breakfast in the mewmin yahoo!! Bhump says “Bullshit!”

21:50 We’re in our quarters for the nite. “All right!!” Also, Kootch and I got our promotions to Brigadier General. Been a while but worth it. Bob and Randy, Kootch and Mike and a bunch of Kootch’s Klan are out partying. Reveille at 0400. Me for de-sack après shower. I’m glad we’re staying. Too much! I need to kick back. Too much pressure blows me away.

Later that same night – after shower, feel great. Discussed freak-out with Paula. Everything cool, but my bumps are worse. Damn! New states I’ve covered: Idaho, Montana, N. Dakota, Minnesota and Michigan. The cold snap is expected to move south raising temperatures to -10? to 10?. The roads are a bitch. Pure glare ice about ½ to 1 inch thick. In town it’s every man for hisself. Walla-Bee is dying her hair. Time for a Q. See you at 0400.

By the look of things, Cousin Toddy owned the town of Hurley. I don’t think there was one bar he wasn’t welcome in, one person he didn’t know, the same with the other Kootch Cousins with us that night, Henry and Jimmy. On a much smaller scale, it was like being escorted around Disneyland by Uncle Walt himself.

By the time we got out of the GU-11 after following Toddy to one of the endless collection of bars on Silver Street, the food had settled into a comfortable lump in our stomachs, and the booze had made us impervious to the cold. We were well insulated and well oiled, and ready to blow off some steam, have some laughs, and party down. There was one minor caveat we had ignored.

We are a rock band, long haired, differently dressed, and smugly confident. We have conquered New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. We are known from Boston to Vancouver, from Seattle to Detroit. We have been on TV and heard on the radio from coast to coast. Surely, we would be treated with due respect and awe by the locals here in Hurley, especially in the company of its beloved leader, Cousin Toddy. We started the night out at Cousin’s Toddy and Jimmy’s own Bar/Restaurant, and then moved on to what Toddy described as “The hottest spot in town”. When Toddy opened the door, and waved us into Nora’s, his favourite bar, we were ready to bask in some much needed company and fawning attention.

We hadn’t counted on Hurley being in the fucking Twilight Zone. Even though it was 1972, there were still those in Hurley who thought anyone with long hair should be birthin’ babies and wearing a dress…

From Randy Bishop’s Journal…

Random Clout starring in ‘Flailing fists At Midnight At Hurley, Wis.’ 1/16/72

I don’t remember much about it. A pickled Norm was I, having gone through a considerable quantity of Uncle Harry’s  home made whiskey, about 5 straight shots at cousin Toddy’s bar, and two Daniels and cokes at Nora’s Bar. Preparing to split for parts unknown, I stood by one of the bar’s at Nora’s when a wiry, greasy guy, six foot mental case, walked up to me and began to blubber about “You guys” and made some remark about how he didn’t like the way I looked. I mentioned that I wasn’t particularly taken with him either, but that it was cool, and we could co-exist. At that point, out of nowhere, came a fist which connected solidly with my left cheek and upper lip. I stood there totally stunned, not knowing whether some crazy drunk has thrown a beer bottle across the bar, or if in actuality, this clown had punched me in the face.

As he stood leering at me, waiting for the return blow that would justify the murder he intended to commit, it suddenly occurred to me that he had really hit me. I muttered something very inanely Christian, and the bastard fucking took a left jab to my right jaw and I spat several pieces of enamel and some blood on the floor. I looked around shocked to find that nobody had seen the assault. I don’t remember why, probably just because I was in shock, but I remained under control and calmly told Henry that this cat had just punched me and he went over to find out, “What’s the deal?”

Meanwhile, I walked outside and paced back and forth in front of the bar waiting for the rest of the crazy assholes, and I began to see red. Michael came out and paced with me saying some soothing things that I really didn’t hear, and the red turned to purple. Incensed, I went back inside to find a brouhaha involving my side and their side, and the fucker that punched me went outside. Bob said “Let’s go get in the car”, and I made determined strides toward the door. As I opened the door, I saw the jerk that hit me standing on the sidewalk, and I completely lost it. I flew at him with flailing fists. He returned my barrage of blows with upper cuts to the nose which I attempted to block, and before I knew it I was on the icy sidewalk, receiving kicks to the temples and I could do nothing but assume the official Jerry Rubin  passive resistance position and it seemed like an hour until Henry finally dragged the madman off of me. The sidewalk was covered with my blood and my face looked like a Mack truck had run over my head.  Michael finally broke away from the two rednecks that he’d been tussling with, and with a look of terror from seeing my face exclaimed, “Oh my god” thinking I was close to death. In actuality, I was numb and couldn’t feel a thing. In shock, I stumbled back into the club and was soon dumped into the middle seat of the Gull and rushed to Kootch’s Uncle Harry’s and Aunt Linda’s to get cleaned up. Mike was a great nurse and his sympathy saw me through.

I had been standing next to Norm at the crowded front bar at Nora’s, talking to the couple next to me on my left. Nice conversation as I recall, although by now we were all pretty much Kennedy drunk, and everything seemed to be all rainbows and unicorns. Norm tapped me on my shoulder and I turned to my right to face him.

“Bob, the guy standing next to me just punched me in the face”.

“What?” I said, over the din.

“Guy. Next to me. My face. Punched my face”, Randy said, eyes wide open like he’d just seen Luanne Platter naked.

I am wearing the 5 Crazy Assholes, (the Wacker’s private nickname for themselves), standard issue S.E.G, or, Shit Eating Grin, and give him a once over, squinting like Popeye.

“You’re drunk”, I conclude, grinning, “Nobody hit you. Why would anybody hit you?”

“He said he doesn’t like the way I look”, Randy said, disbelief evident in his voice.

“You’re drunk!” I repeat, sloshing my umpteenth Jack and Coke onto my shirt. “I would have seen it if someone hit you. You’re inamigi…imagining things”

There for a minute, I think he actually considered the possibility that he had imagined it. The moment passed quickly. “I’m going to ask him why he hit me”

“You do that, Norm” I chirped turning back to my two new best friends, but before I had a chance to speak to them, Norm tapped me on the shoulder again.

“So, did you talk to him?” I asked, still happier than a dope dealer at a Dead concert.

Norm’s eyes are now the size of pie plates.

“Motherfucker hit me again”.

His lip is bleeding.

I lose my S.E.G, and Randy talks to Henry and walks out of the bar. I turn my attention back to the Jack and coke, figuring everything’s okay.

With Norm gone, the Dimbulb who punched him got bored and punched somebody else, who hit back and in turn got punched by one of Dimbulb’s friends. Now we have a brushfire just as Norm walks back into the bar. I turn him around. “Let’s get to the car”, I tell him, searching for the keys while the fight behind us starts to spread. Finding the keys, I push past Norm and run/slide across the street to the Gull. He is right behind me.

The windows in the Gull are completely frozen over and covered in ice and snow. I can’t see a thing. I start the VW and turn on the wipers. They are useless. I crank the heater/defroster up as high as it will go, and begin the wait until the ice starts to melt. It will take some time. I fail to notice that Norm has not yet reached the car.

Minutes tick by, I still can’t see anything out the windows, but a strange, eerie red and blue glow starts to pulsate through the front window. I try to roll down the driver’s side window, but it’s still frozen shut. Finally, it starts to come down, and the scene that greets me is right out of a movie.

There are people fighting everywhere, in the middle of the street, on the sidewalk, and in the doorway of the bar. Now I hear the sirens. The pulsing red and blue lights pull up in the middle of the street and giant policemen exit their cars and wade into the donnybrook. Toddy heads off the first officer and, though I can’t hear him, seems to be trying to end the fight without the ‘strangers’ going to jail. Mike shows up with Norm in tow and deposits him in the Gull and hops in the front seat. We wipe enough clear space in the window for me to see, and we head back to Toddy’s house. Norm looks pretty bad and Michael has a fat lip. From the crumpled form sprawled across the bench seat behind me, Norm’s voice quietly announces one, final, kick in the head: “Somebody stole my fucking wallet”.

From Tim Stull’s Journal…

Sunday, January 16^th, 1972 – 12:23 pm Eastern Standard Time

Stayed in Hurley, Kootch’s home town, last night. Steve and I crashed and everyone else went out and got smashed in more ways than one. Seems as though some guy didn’t like the way Norm looked and so he decided to tell him about it. It ended up outside to the tune of a drunken brawl. Norm is pretty busted up n’ sore and so is Mike. Worst injury is a chipped tooth and an almost busted nose on Norm. Mike’s got a fat lower lip and a few spot bruises under the eyes, but nothing too outlandish. Well, so much for local excitement in Hurley. Kootch’s family is the typical Italian bunch. Walk in and they say “Hi, how are you, have a drink, have you eaten?” His uncle Jimmy cooked us a gigantic breakfast of eggs, bacon, ham, toast, milk, coffee, fresh pineapple and a full bag of roast beef sandwiches and ribs. Truly a fantastic cook. The bus almost didn’t start this morning. We finally got it going with alcohol (one of cousin Henry’s schemes). We played it smart and left the B1RD running all night. Oh yes, one more thing, the temperature has risen to +2?, truly a great relief.

From Ernie’s Journal…

Jan 16 06:20

Reveille! It’s -30? out. Norm got punched out last night. More later. Everyone sluggish. We’re in Hurley, Wis. 06:30 took hangover stuff – Alka Seltzer, etc. 06:35 Puked it all up. Siddons…….!!! Christ! This is fucked. 06:40 Still waiting for all hands have out and —- up. -30? Sheeit!!! Later that same morning. I had to pass breakfast ‘cause kweezy. Everyone’s back now. GU-11 has frozen dogged fuel line. Norm lost his wallet last night while involved with pugilists. What next?

Last nite Norm got punched out twice. Bip! Bap! No reason. It moved to the street where after Norm rushed the cat, he got kicked in the hand 10 or 100 times. Has busted nose, swollen everything. Why why why? It don’t seem right somehow. Temp at 09:00 is 0?. Windshield index about -40?. “We’ve come across some many bummers.” –Paula. Paula. Again, I say the words of Mike Stull. “A gem.”

New info – Norm’s assailant is a freak newly released out of a mental institution. 09:15 Everyone’s hard at work trying to fix the GU-11. Use Heet. Paper says: Near record cold to ease up today. It figures that we would cross the country in the middle of all this. Toddy is a jewel. He’s so funny. I discovered two more bumps. Jesus, Mary, and Lenny. More later. New word for today: Barfle. Courtesy of Toddy, Kootch’s cousin. The GU-11 is running. Two cans o’ Heet. We should be underway soon. 09:37 Toddy just brought back Norm’s wallet. Just like he said he would – Truly Cosmic.

Norm: “I just can’t believe it’s true,”

Jan 16 – 10:05

Underway from Hurley. General Mike Stull at the stick. Norm navigating.

Mel: “I can’t relate to family.”

Bob: “This is neater’n shit!”

Flashback: Bob and Norm got back about 00:30 last nite. Fight in front of Nora’s. Falsely released nut says to Norm “I don’t like the way you look.” Norm sez: “I don’t like you either, but let’s co-exist.” Nut: Bip to the lip and southpaw to jaw. They tried to get away but outside Norm was so pissed, he flew at the guy and knocked him down and kicked his head. A lot. Norm got in some kicks, but the icy street kept him from getting his booting. Mike got into it too and when the Hurley cops arrived, their stance was that strangers from out of town were at fault. Kootch was in the street screaming at a fat Dodge cop. Fortunately, no one went to jail. To paraphrase the Dead, “What a strange, strange trip it is.” NOTE: It was the coldest there since 1885.

Well, like the pundits say, you just can’t make this shit up.

After meeting with Toddy, Norm’s medical situation is assessed and dealt with, Toddy vows to get his wallet back.

Norm: “Impossible! It could be anywhere!”

Toddy: “If it’s on Earth I’ll get it.”

Later, at the family restaurant for breakfast with what seemed like the entire population of Hootervi…I mean, Hurley, Toddy made good on his promise and handed Norm his wallet. How he accomplished that is one of life’s great mysteries, like the success of According to Jim and Scrubs.

Cousin Jimmy served up a breakfast that had to be seen to be believed, and presented the band with a huge bag of roast beef sandwiches for the trip. Uncle Harry ponied up a jug of his fine, bathtub whiskey, and Kootch received a bottle of Courvoisier, which would come in handy on the last leg of our trip. Hugs all around and we prepared to hit the road. The clogged, frozen fuel line in the GU-11 had been repaired, the band and co. refreshed and revitalized, and there was the promise of warmer weather and blue skies ahead. It was also Super Bowl Sunday, so we knew we’d have something to listen to on the radio for at least a few hours. Too bad we couldn’t watch it on TV, though…at any rate, The Circus was back on the road.

The weather looked to be clearing up, the ice on the roads was beginning to thaw, and everyone, except for Norm, was in the best mood they’d been in for days. Hell, even Norm was smiling and cracking wise…it should be smooth sailing for here on in!

From Tim Stull’s Journal…

January 16^th, 3:42 pm – The GU-11 has received a direct flack hit in #3 cylinder which apparently took the piston with it. This sent oil all over the goddamn place, forcing them to make an emergency landing just outside of Trout Creek, Michigan. We are now engaged trying to get another command module. So far we’ve been totally unsuccessful doing so. As far as I’m concerned that God blessed Volx ain’t worth the powder that it would take to blow it to nickel size chunks of shrapnel!! Right now Bob, Kootch and Steve are trying to get a car etc. together. It’s hard to say exactly what we are going to do at this point, FUCKSHITPISSCRAPSANDWICH! Steve just told me that there is no Volkswagen dealer in Hurley. That means that Marquette, Duluth and Hancock are the only places to get it fixed.

We’re stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. How can this be happening? The weather has turned bad once again. The wind has picked up, the snow is blowing, and the ice is beginning to build back up on the road. Worse, Norm has developed a fever.

We need a miracle

Next: Leanne Lockwood and the Miracle of Trout Creek Michigan.

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.