Hey, before you abuse, criticize and accuse \/ Better walk a mile in my shoes <\/span><\/i>(1968).\u00a0 These words popped into my head when I read comments deriding a pop star for complaining about how hard it is to make a living as a touring musician.\u00a0 The commentator’s take was along the lines of, \u201cYou get paid a lot of money and get to travel all over the world to play music.\u00a0 What\u2019s the problem?\u201d\u00a0 I was lucky because from my start as a regularly gigging musician in 1970, I got to work within an easy commute to 99 percent of my band jobs.\u00a0 My \u2018touring\u2019 experience (which meant spending a couple of nights on the road) was limited to four weekends over the next half a decade.\u00a0 In no shape or form did what my bands do compare to a musician who tours for weeks or months at a time.\u00a0 With that said, I guess even my limited \u2018touring\u2019 gave me enough insight to say, without hesitation, \u201cAs glamorous as it seems, it is a tough way to make a living.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The first time The Twig got a chance to play two nights out of the Marquette area, we landed at a place called Tiny\u2019s Club in Niagara, Wisconsin.\u00a0 We generally did our own bookings, but there was an agent working out of Escanaba that called us a couple of times when one of his regular bands couldn\u2019t fill a gig.\u00a0 The two nights we played at Tiny\u2019s joint were a first for us (and for the club) on a couple of levels.\u00a0 The obvious first for us was having to spend two nights out of town.\u00a0 Secondly, we were the first rock band Tiny ever hired to test the waters of attracting a younger crowd to his traditionally Country & Western club.\u00a0 If the first thing that comes to mind is The Blues Brothers having beer bottles rain down on them at Bob\u2019s Country Bunker, let me assure you our experience was nothing like that.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Norbert \u2018Tiny\u2019 Cochart was born in Algoma, WI in 1932 and passed away in Marquette in March of 2015.\u00a0 He spent several years as a blacksmith with the LS&I Railroad but his passion was singing country music.\u00a0 He performed under the name Tiny C. Hart but in the era of Harold Jenkins rebranding himself as \u2018Conway Twitty\u2019, Norbert would have been a great stage name.\u00a0 I can not find any reference as to when he became a bar owner or how long he ran Tiny\u2019s Club.\u00a0 We should have known we were in trouble when we set up.\u00a0 The stage was in a corner behind the bar but elevated almost to the same height as the bar.\u00a0 The room was not large and it was paneled all the way around with \u2018marlite\u2019 – a hard, non-wood, non-sound absorbing surface.\u00a0 When Mike was tuning his bass, Tiny looked up from washing glasses and asked him, \u201cHey, that is kind of loud, isn\u2019t it?\u201d\u00a0 I borrowed three bar towels to cover my snare and toms knowing we were going to have to tone it down.\u00a0 We went on to play the quietest gig we ever performed.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We were put up for the night in a small motel down the road.\u00a0 We spent a little time laughing about what we had gotten ourselves into.\u00a0 We ended up killing time on a cold March 1971\u00a0 Saturday by bumming around Iron Mountain and Kingsford.\u00a0 Let me just say, there are only so many hours one can spend looking at records at ShopKo.\u00a0 I do remember Mike picking up a copy of <\/span>Grand Funk Live<\/span><\/i>, but we couldn\u2019t hear it until we got home.\u00a0 We did fast food for lunch and hit a mom and pop pizza parlor for dinner.\u00a0 That is when the fun started.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We were the only patrons in the place so we were kind of perplexed when the guy working in the kitchen totally ignored us.\u00a0 Ten minutes passed before the woman working farther back in the kitchen noticed us and came out to ask if we had been helped.\u00a0 She looked kind of sideways at the man in the kitchen when we said \u2018no\u2019 and then she took our order.\u00a0 When she delivered our pizza and drinks, she apologized:\u00a0 \u201cMy husband (the cook who ignored us) doesn\u2019t like kids with long hair.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I had heard stories about encounters like this but it was a first for us.\u00a0 We ate and left her a good tip because working with her husband\u2019s attitude toward long haired youth must have been something she got tired of apologizing for.\u00a0 When I first heard Bob Seger\u2019s song <\/span>Turn the Page<\/span><\/i>, I thought about our brush with the pizza guy who didn\u2019t like long haired teens.\u00a0 Sure, we did not feel like we were in any kind of danger, but it still underlined the fact that things like this happened.\u00a0 Interestingly enough, Seger\u2019s song was based on a real incident that took place a little farther south than we were in Iron Mountain, on the road in Wisconsin (not \u2018<\/span>On a long and lonely highway east of Omaha\u2019<\/span><\/i> where Bob\u2019s lyrics put it).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The second night of our engagement at Tiny\u2019s Club started much like the first.\u00a0 The bar\u2019s regulars watched us with what can only be called \u2018mild bemusement\u2019.\u00a0 The few younger folk who wandered in stayed for a drink and wandered off.\u00a0 Maybe they may have seen a playbill somewhere advertising the gig but we could tell they were not Tiny\u2019s regular crowd.\u00a0 As we wrapped up our second set, Tiny waved Mike over to talk.\u00a0 Mike returned with an envelope in his hand.\u00a0 Tiny (who wasn\u2019t so tiny at 6 foot 5 inches or so) kind of loomed over Mike so Gene and I wondered what was up.\u00a0 Mike said, \u201cTiny said \u2018thanks for coming but this isn\u2019t going to work\u2019.\u00a0 He paid us in full and said we can go home.\u201d\u00a0 Our two night road trip ended early and we were home a little after midnight, much to my parent\u2019s surprise.\u00a0 It was still fun because it was something different than what we normally experienced at gigs.\u00a0 The more we thought about it, it seemed like the booking agent had kind of talked Tiny into giving rock music a try.\u00a0 Obviously, The Twig wasn\u2019t the right fit for Tiny\u2019s Club.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The third band I was in (active during my senior year in college) was a semi-Twig reunion.\u00a0 Mike had graduated from Michigan Tech and had gone to Toledo, Ohio with a band he had joined.\u00a0 Things didn\u2019t work out and in the summer of 1974, he came back to Marquette to take a job at the college TV station, WNMU 13.\u00a0 Sledgehammer was just getting ready to start playing gigs for cash when we parted ways with our bass player.\u00a0 I had played in the band Knockdown for two years and recruited Lee to join Barry, Lindsay, and I.\u00a0 He hadn\u2019t been very reliable in Knockdown (particularly about paying back money loaned to him between gigs) but the last straw came when he got drunk at a rehearsal.\u00a0 Having dented the door of my dad\u2019s work car that was parked in the driveway, we decided it was time to replace him.\u00a0 Barry and I ran into Mike when we went to see another band at the Marquette Mountain Ski Chalet bar.\u00a0 Just like that, we had a new bass player.\u00a0 As a bonus, Mike was also an electronics geek and we solved our last equipment problems when he designed a new PA that we constructed in my dad\u2019s workshop.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We were playing regularly in the fall of 1974 with Barry doing the majority of the booking.\u00a0 He surprised us in late October when he said, \u201cI just booked a dance at a friend\u2019s old high school.\u00a0 It will be a Saturday in early December so we can travel Friday, do the gig Saturday, and drive home on Sunday.\u201d\u00a0 Then he dropped the bombshell:\u00a0 \u201cShe comes from Coldwater, Michigan.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cColdwater, as in south of Jackson?\u201d I asked.\u00a0 \u201cThat has to be 500 miles one way!\u201d\u00a0 For the record, it is 463 miles and we were not in favor of doing the gig.\u00a0 We needed two vehicles to haul our equipment and the mileage alone for Mike\u2019s van and my dad\u2019s pick-up would have put us in the hole.\u00a0 Then there was the cost of food and lodging on top of that.\u00a0 Barry wasn\u2019t happy but we told him, \u201cThanks, but no thanks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The next day, Barry called and said, \u201cWhat if we get an extra fifty for gas and the lodging is free?\u00a0 We all have friends in Ann Arbor we could crash with Friday and a single teacher in Coldwater said we can stay the night at his place.\u201d\u00a0 We tossed it around and figured that a) it would be a cheap way to visit college friends downstate, b) it would certainly be an adventure, and c) the mileage for this one gig would be enough of a deduction to cancel any potential income taxes we would owe for the year.\u00a0 Okay, the gig was on.\u00a0 We arrived in Ann Arbor in the early evening on Friday and two of us crashed with my old friend Jim and the other two ended up staying with one of Barry\u2019s old high school bandmates.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0There was only one small hitch in the plan.\u00a0 On the way downstate, I started coming down with a nasty head cold.\u00a0 Popping antihistamines helped clear my head some, but the drainage down the back of my throat was doing a number on my voice.\u00a0 It was only another 90 miles from Ann Arbor to Coldwater by way of Highway US 12 so we took our time getting there Saturday.\u00a0 The drive through the Irish Hills was enjoyable and we arrived in plenty of time to get set up and then catch dinner.\u00a0 It was a typical high school gym dance (semi-formal as I recall) and we played pretty well.\u00a0 My cold caught up to me and my vocals deteriorated as the night wore on.\u00a0 I had told Barry, \u201cWe better do most of my songs early before I am croaking like a frog,\u201d and by set number four, I certainly sounded like one.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The teacher putting us up lived in a trailer so we crashed on the floor that night.\u00a0 We awoke to a driving rainstorm.\u00a0 After breakfast, we kiddingly said, \u201cGee, it sure will be great to drive north and get out of this rain.\u201d\u00a0 Little did we know that the rain wouldn\u2019t slow down as we passed Jackson traveling north on I – 69.\u00a0 By the time we neared Lansing, it was sleet and just north of Lansing, there was heavy wet snow.\u00a0 Somewhere between Lansing and Mount Pleasant, the snow was coming down so hard there was at least a foot on the passing lane of US 127.\u00a0 We watched a lot of cars slipping and sliding in the lane ahead of us including a big black Cadillac that did several donuts on the way to the ditch.\u00a0 I pulled over in the passing lane to go around the spot where the Caddy exited the freeway and found I had more traction there then on the one plowed lane.\u00a0 With a pick-up truck toting half our equipment giving us an advantage, we hit I 75 and stayed in the passing lane all the way to the Mackinac Bridge.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Barry and I lost track of Mike and Lindsay somewhere north of Mount Pleasant.\u00a0 When we gassed up, I called home to let my folks know it was slow going and while I was on the phone, Mike took off back to the highway.\u00a0 I told dad, \u201cAs long as it isn\u2019t blowing, the driving is good but if it gets bad, we may stop somewhere for the night.\u201d\u00a0 I was expecting the driving lecture but dad surprised me when he paused and then said, \u201cAh, well, okay.\u00a0 Take it easy.\u201d\u00a0 We stopped to eat at the Big Boy in St. Ignace and Barry said, \u201cI would be glad to drive from here – you look beat.\u201d\u00a0 That was true and Barry did fine, but I couldn\u2019t get any sleep.\u00a0 Every time a snowplow or semi would go by in the other direction, I would jolt awake.\u00a0 By the time we hit Engadine, I just said, \u201cThanks for taking the wheel, but I am more nervous as a passenger than a driver so I would just as soon drive.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We took the M-117 cut across north to M-28.\u00a0 Heading west on M-28, we drove out of the snow.\u00a0 By the time we got to the Seney Stretch, the sky was clear and the highway was plowed wide enough to land a jumbo jet.\u00a0 From Munising to Marquette, the roads were bare.\u00a0 I had \u00a0 wondered then why dad never mentioned it was not snowing at all in Marquette.\u00a0 Maybe he figured we would keep pushing regardless of the storm if we had known that bit of information. Minus having a cold, losing my voice, and the snow storm, it was an interesting trip.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We had two more overnight gigs in February and March of 1975.\u00a0 Both of these were booked by the same agent who sent The Twig to Tiny\u2019s Club.\u00a0 The first was a Friday \/ Saturday job at the hotel supper club that used to occupy the plot of land across the highway from Sunday Lake in Wakefield (a building that has since been torn down).\u00a0 It was the height of ski season so we were promised \u2018great, appreciative skiers\u2019 for the weekend.\u00a0 That was true, but skiers on package tours have a midnight curfew so three quarters of the evening was great – the last set, not so much.\u00a0 We rattled around Wakefield Saturday afternoon and killed a little time visiting my aunt and uncle.\u00a0 Aunt Edith was gracious and brought out the coffee and bakery while my Uncle Ike said a quick hello from in front of the TV in the living room.\u00a0 Most of the day we spent back in our crowded room listening to a reel to reel tape Mike had made of our Friday night performance.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0We played the second night and had retreated to our four cot accommodations when there was a knock at the door.\u00a0 A couple of girls on a package ski trip from Milwaukee had gone AWOL so the first place they thought to look was in our room.\u00a0 Sorry, but the band was not involved in this caper.\u00a0 It turned out they had met a couple of guys from a different tour and had slipped off to share a bottle of wine.\u00a0 The next morning, we packed up and headed home (and they finally informed us they had found the missing girls from the night before).<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The fourth and final \u2018tour\u2019 gig for me (and the third for Sledgehammer) found us doing two nights at a popular club in Iron River, Michigan.\u00a0 The accommodations there were even more spartan than we had in Wakefield.\u00a0 This was a great weekend in spite of sleeping in a bare room (with peeling paint) above the club.\u00a0 The bar normally booked rock bands so we had a crowd that was there to dance and party.\u00a0 Again, killing a Saturday in Iron River was kind of a bore, but the two nights of playing were great.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0This club had rows of mugs hanging from the ceiling beams.\u00a0 They featured a drink special where patrons had to down a concoction in one of these large mugs in a set amount of time.\u00a0 If successful, one got their personalized mug hung from the rafters.\u00a0 During the third set, Mike decided he would finish the night by joining the hanging mug club during the last set.\u00a0 He kept doing time updates from the stage and got a lot of encouragement from the crowd.\u00a0 He somehow managed to finish the gig still semi-sober.\u00a0 It was a good thing we didn\u2019t have to drive anywhere that night.\u00a0 It took two men and a mule to get Mike moving for the load out the next morning.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Playing music in high school and college was a great way to avoid bagging groceries for my tuition and fun money.\u00a0 It was also work, albeit fun work, but I had no illusions that I would be making a living as a musician.\u00a0 What I remember the most about all our band jobs was the travel – especially the Coldwater trip.\u00a0 The second thing was the dead time between Friday and Saturday night on our few road trips.\u00a0 Extrapolating the travel and time between shows into a life where this pattern is repeated over and over for weeks (or months) at a time, I can see how it burns some bands out.\u00a0 Any band or solo artist that tours regularly for several decades will find ways to compensate for the numbing routine.\u00a0 Those that don\u2019t usually implode or find another line of work at some point.\u00a0 I was just as happy to be a teacher whose hobbies included music.<\/span><\/p>\n
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