One of my youthful horrors, required childhood vacinations, took place on the ground floor around front when the building housed the Health Department.
My parents got tired of Mook’s Session and threw us out. We were able to rent the room that had been the Boy Scout meeting place, and in which Tig had played a gig (and Billy D had sung). It was neat having a room that allowed us to mill around town at night. I remember having a lot of fun there because we could experiment with the music and be loose in our behavior in ways we couldn’t at my parents’ house.
Band practice had begun to become problematic due to the workload of school, football, and band. I’m amazed now that we stuck with it as long as we did. We were on fire with music, though. Psychedelic music was in full flower and we all listened and happy to hear it. Journey to the Center of the Mind by The Amboy Dukes was playing while I talked with Elmer the first time. Billy D and I loved Donovan’s The Hurdy Gurdy Man.
A guitar player named The Truck (not his name) who lived a block from Elmer somehow sat in with Mook’s Session a few times. He had a couple of nice guitars and a fuzz device that allowed him to get a Henry Vestine (Canned Heat) sound. We had jammed in his parents’ kitchen one Saturday morning and asked him over. The addition of another guitar player, one who expanded the range of lead options, made for a bigger sound, and he filled in a few times when CEP couldn’t practice. Before long, however, tensions arose in the band, mainly between Billy D and The Truck. We tried to lock out The Truck one time, but he pulled the lock apart with a single tug (he was a massive fellow). One night while The Truck was playing a lead during On the Road Again, his guitar stopped working.
“Blowed a fuse,” The Truck said.
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all night,” Billy D said.
The Truck let the comment sink in and lit a cigarette. “You wanna make something of it, D?”
Billy D turned and looked at me. “Green Onions,” he said.
“We can go outside, D,” The Truck said.
“Play it,” Billy D said.
We launched in, but The Truck unplugged his gear and carried it out. At the end of the school week, report cards were released. I did shamefully. My parents wanted me to quit the band or football. Both things pretty much ended at the same time. I held onto the practice room key for quite a while. Billy D took the key and went to square things with the landlord. Mook’s Session had ended. A lot of pressure fell off my shoulders.
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