PROLOGUE
The backstage kiss from Abby was my reward for Bowzer’s announcement from the stage that he liked what he saw. The lead singer of Sha Na Na had paused at mid-set. “This is the best-run student show we’ve ever seen,” he said. The sell-out crowd cheered. My new friendship with Daniel was cemented. The student concert committee made money that night, but Abby’s excited kiss was mine alone.
While the Professor hadn’t given me any crap about selling out by booking a popular oldies band, that thought had crossed my mind. The familiar oldies doo-wop music was energizing and we hadn’t set any chairs, so the crowd kept dancing. We just watered the dirt floor to tamp down the dust of the Amherst College Cage and let ’em go. The reflected glory of Sha Na Na, who had played right before Jimi Hendrix closed Woodstock with his “Star Spangled Banner,” was enough.
Booking James Cotton to open had helped balance things. His music and his persona provided needed depth. His birth on a plantation and later recording at Sun Studios in Memphis while driving Howlin’ Wolf to gigs up and down Highway 61 all led me to believe he would play the hell out of the blues harp. And he did—stoned it, in fact—and I gave myself a passing grade for staging the gig in the first place. Then Bowzer spoke, Abby kissed me, and Daniel and I exchanged a firm handshake and a grin.