Michael Castello

I registered the domain name BonnieParkerBand.com in 2002 and created this website to share my experiences as one of the many musicians who played in the Bonnie Parker Band.

Bonnie has always been the lead singer and bass player of the band. Although my brother David and I were part of the last Bonnie Parker Band and toured from NYC to Chicago for two years, it has been over 40 years since then. Yet, we still have many wonderful memories to share. I’ve heard that Bonnie is again assembling a new Bonnie Parker Band?!

My band, The Flying Tigers, moved from Florida to Manhattan in the fall of 1976. At that time, we lived in the Music Building at 315 30th Street in Manhattan. Blondie/Debbie Harry lived and rehearsed just below us. Patti Smith along with dozens of other bands, made the Music Building their home to be part of the emerging punk scene.

After several months of playing at CBGB’s and Max’s Kansas City nightclubs, our lead singer Doug Ellison and bassist Jason Maxx (Howard Mulkey) decided to leave city life. My brother David and I were looking to put another band together or join one.

I met Bonnie and her manager, Desmond, when they came to our 30th street loft. Desmond mentioned that Bonnie no longer wanted the band’s music to be a “sledgehammer over the head.” I played keyboards in addition to guitar, and Bonnie felt that keyboards would enhance the style and feel of the music she envisioned. We had the opportunity to see the band perform at a nightclub in White Plains and were invited.

When we saw the band, they were playing cover songs. I had been playing original music, and the idea of playing someone else’s music wasn’t appealing to me. Bonnie and the band were really good, and the guitarist Rudy Valentino was especially masterful. It was far different music and look than the punk music scene we were engaged in in the city.

We declined that night and ended up joining Teenage Lust, a band much like The Tubes. They had been involved in the Glitter Scene along with the New York Dolls. After several months, the band was offered a record deal with Columbia Records, but my brother and I decided to leave the band for personal reasons.

We were again approached by Desmond, who informed me that Bonnie’s new band would feature all original music and that I would be part of the music-making process. He invited my brother and me to attend a show that Bonnie was performing at Great Gildersleeve’s, a nightclub one block north of CBGB’s. Bonnie was commanding the stage with her intense form of rock ‘n’ roll, and I was starting to get excited about the idea of joining and touring.

I noticed the guitarist on Bonnie’s right side, who was Richie Scarlett. He was a charismatic rocker with a mix of Keith Richards and Steven Tyler. I remember he wore ballet shoes as he slithered around the stage. Was he the guitarist I was to replace? He was really good and a different guitarist than I was. The only reason I could see for his replacement was that Bonnie wanted the addition of a keyboardist.

A few days later, I had left to visit my parents in Florida and made the call to Bonnie that my brother and I would join her band, but there was a major problem. They didn’t want to replace their drummer. I mentioned that I wouldn’t join unless my brother could be part of the band. David was a very good and hard-hitting drummer in the likeness of Keith Moon. After a few days, Desmond called and said Bonnie had agreed. David and I would now be joining along with Rudy and Bonnie to be the next Bonnie Parker Band.

I would have to say that those two years were some of the most incredibly interesting and fun years of my life. So many people, so many experiences, and so many cities…

My hope with this website is that all the players who were part of the Bonnie Parker Band will add their stories, post their pictures and videos, and become part of this story—a story of a great 4-piece band. Let’s get Pumped Up!

– Michael Castello

 

SOME STORIES TO TELL…

Pablo Picasso was an Asshole

BPB was touring through upstate New York in Albany. We tended to tour northward toward the Syracuse and Rochester areas, where Rudy and his family were from. We had a great following in New York. There wasn’t much to mention about the venue called Hullabaloo; it was just another club along the way. While we were performing, guitar virtuoso Rick Derringer stepped up to the stage. Rick was very popular at the time, having released the hit song “Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo” and played on Edgar Winter’s hit song “Frankenstein.” Rick brought along his other band members, including guitarist Neil Giraldo (who would later join Pat Benatar) and bassist Kenny Aaronson, whom I considered one of the best bassists at the time.

Rick came backstage between sets and asked if he could play with us. I offered him my spot, as Rudy was a more capable lead guitarist to duel with Rick. In the dressing room, Rick approached my three-pickup Gibson Black Beauty, which I had purchased from Rudy. Rick insisted on using it, but it was my backup guitar, and I hadn’t had the chance to bring it in to get the string height lowered. At best, it was a backup. Rick took it on stage, and I had a feeling Rudy was about to eat Rick’s lunch. Once on stage, Bonnie introduced Rick to the audience. Rick got on the microphone and said, “This song is called ‘Pablo Picasso Was an Asshole.’” I had never heard it before but was laughing at the lyrics. Midway through, Rudy tore into an impressive riff solo, full of harmonics, sustain, and speed—everything a guitarist could hope for. Rick then launched into his lead, but the higher action on my guitar was completely dampening his riffs. Rudy totally dominated, and after the show, Rick practically threw my guitar at our roadie, he was so pissed off.

A few days later, we finally reached Rochester to play at a club called The Penny Arcade. It was a Saturday night, and the club was packed. We did our usual three sets, and the audience loved it. We were nearing closing time, but we were already into a second encore. The owner was insisting we end the show, as he didn’t want to pass the city’s 2 a.m. limit, but the audience wouldn’t let us off. After two more encores, the owner turned off the power and ordered the crowd to leave. Bad move. The crowd was so amped up after our show that the energy exploded into the parking lot with everyone brawling with each other. We got the hell out of there.

The Atlantic City Flood

We had a gig with Steppenwolf in Atlantic City during the summer of 1978. After our equipment setup and rehearsal at the nightclub, we headed back to our hotel room for some dinner before returning to the club a few hours later. That day, the weather was particularly bad, and on our way back to the nightclub, we found ourselves caught in a severe thunderstorm with intense downpours and lightning. Our soundman, Wayne, was a pretty big guy; about 5 feet, 6 inches tall and 360 lbs. He drove a large, old Cadillac. That particular night, there were four of us in the car: Wayne , Guar (our roadie), my brother David, and me.

It was dark, and as we drove through one small town the rain intensified. Lightning was striking close by, making it feel like a war zone. With Wayne driving, we approached an intersection that looked like a lake had formed in it. Wayne stopped the car just before it as we debated how deep the water might be, or whether we should even try to drive through. Then, Wayne revved his engine and hit the gas, plunging us straight into the water with the hood submerging.

The car stalled right in the middle and the water began to pour in. We contemplated bailing out through the windows, but the ongoing lightning strikes made us hesitate. At that moment, Guar decided to take off his socks and shoes.

Guar was infamous for having the worst-smelling, cheesy feet I have ever had the misfortune of smelling. Well, that made our decision to flee the car certain. The only problem was that Wayne was too big to escape through the window. We watched from the sidewalk as the water was raising and wondered whether Wayne would drown trapped in his car.

Luckily, the downpour  stopped, and the water subsided. We were finally able to get Wayne out of the car and found another way to get to the nightclub.

---

Chicago Police Meet Rudolph Valentino

Our first tour to Chicago took place in the winter of 1977. While the roadies drove in a truck with the gear, the band members—David, Bonnie, Rudy, and I—were in an old Pontiac Bonneville. Yes, Bonnie owned a Bonneville. We were excited to play in and visit Chicago, a city I had never traveled before.

It was a snowy night around 1 a.m. After a long drive from Pennsylvania, we were ready to crash for the night when suddenly police lights illuminated the darkness, and Bonnie was pulled over. Our New York license plate and the Bonneville’s worn, rusted appearance probably made us stand out.

The officers cautiously approached on either side of our car, shining their flashlights in our faces and instructing us to step out. They asked each of us for our names and driver’s licenses. I had a bad feeling about where this was headed. When they reached Rudy, one officer asked for his name. Rudy replied, “Rudolph Valentino.” The officer retorted, “Okay, you wanna make some trouble smartass!?” to which we all responded, “No, that really his his name!” After looking at Rudy’s driver’s license and confirming his name, they inquired why we had come to Chicago from New York. We explained that we were there to perform at the local nightclubs.

Ultimately, Chicago proved to be a very successful tour stop for us. We even considered moving there, but the extremely cold and windy winters put a stop to that.

---

3 Mile Island and Nuked Up

It was 10am, March 28, 1979 – Our band and crew were driving east on state road 76 with our next gig in Lancaster, Pennsylvanian. It was 44 degrees with a clear blue sky.  I looked south and saw the smokestacks of 3 Mile Island as we passed. Little did we know, 6 hours earlier the meltdown of the reactors had begun. That day, we had no idea of what was happening and the danger that we, and the surrounding areas, were in. Lancaster was about 20 miles southeast from the nuclear power plant.

Earlier on our tour, the band had very successful performances in Illinois, Wisconsin, and Michigan but were excited to get back to some of our old stomping grounds. Nothing like Shoofly Pie and Sassafras root beer, which were common in the Lancaster area along with the Amish with their horse and buggy.

We loved Lancaster and were looking forward to arriving at the Canandaigua Hotel, which was just down the road from The Dutch Wonderland. When we got into town, we heard the area was being covered by world news, but we were still not sure what was going on. We found out that many of the acts, like the Charley Danial’s Band, had canceled their shows. We decided to stay, and the The Village nightclub agreed open for our shows.

The Canandaigua Hotel was where we had some of our best after parties. David (Rad) White would always visit us and make his famous punch. He came earlier in the day with a brand new aluminum garbage can, put a liner in it and start filling it with grain alcohol, bottles of Hawaiian Punch, lots of fruit and vodka and let it ferment over the next 12 hours.

That night the The Village audience was about half what it would have normally been, and everyone was excited to be there. Our usual anthem song was Pumped Up, but for the occasion we sang it as Nuked Up! The audience loved it. We finished that night, and the band with all our guests headed back to The Canandaigua where Rad’s Punch was waiting for us.

I always wondered if the 3 Mile Island’s radiation would make me sterile or give me cancer. I have two kids and so far, nothing has stopped me yet.

---

The Chicago Satanists

Chicago was definitely hitting a high note with the band. The energy there was different from NYC but electric nonetheless. While we played many venues and clubs in the area, there was one small place which was new to us. It didn’t have that many bar patrons, as no one knew who we were in that area. I remember the club looked like it had once been a Red Lobster or Black Angus, with a sterile-looking parking lot. One vehicle stood out though- It was a van with a stunning airbrushed facade of Star Wars, a movie that had only come out a year earlier. I had never seen such beautiful airbrush artwork, and the van was covered with scenes from the movie.

Later that night, while we were on stage, a small group of people appeared out of the dark from the dance floor. They approach the front of the stage toward Bonnie. The main figure was a good-looking guy, in a black leather jacket and pants with 666s on it, accompanied by several attractive girls in black. He had a bar tray with five champagne glasses on it and as Bonnie came up to him, the guy introduced himself as Rodger. He mentioned that he loved the band and wanted to help make us one of the top rock bands in the world. Everything about this guy was preposterous, but hey, he was offering us free champagne!

We all grabbed a glass and toasted the moment. After the show, all of us were outside, Rodger proclaimed that the Star Wars van was his. This guy’s energy was impressive, and we thanked him for coming to watch the band and hanging out with us.

In his group, there was one girl named Alice. She invited my brother to her place that night, and David told me afterward that she had the whole witchcraft setup at her place with an altar, dagger, and other regalia. She told my brother some crazy story that she knew how Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones died and that his drowning in a pool was not accidental. She also mentioned that Rodger was a warlock.

Our band eventually headed back east to New York, and on our next tour back to Chicago, we met up with Rodger again at one of our shows. He looked very different. He almost seemed psychotic. He handed me a book, by Aleister Crowley titled “Magick,” telling me he wanted me to have it.

Rudy really wanted the band to distance itself from this group and I think Rodger sensed it. Strangely Rudy decided to go in the truck back to the hotel with road manager Alan. On the way back, Rudy watched in disbelief as the front right tire flew off the truck and sped ahead and off the road. Rudy eventually found another way back and mentioned to us that he was “wigged out” by the whole ordeal, convinced that it had to do with Rodger and his group. The next day, Rudy said he had nightmares that night.

Alice, at that time, told us that Rodger was not able to control the forces he was engaging with and that he was in danger. That was the last we ever saw or heard from Rodger, Alice, and their group.

---

B4 there was Mötley Crüe & Bon Jovi, there was Bonnie Parker

The Bonnie Parker Band made a huge impact on the Chicago scene. So much so that we considered moving there from NYC. The nightclubs, including the subterranean Mother’s Nightclub, were always packed. It seemed we had filled the vacuum that Cheap Trick had left behind a few years earlier. Word was spreading that the Bonnie Parker Band was rising.

When we got back home in New York, Bonnie got a call from a manager in Chicago that was interesting in signing us. We were more interested in having Cheap Trick’s manager Ken Adamany taking us to the next level, and the name Doc McGhee didn’t stand out to us at the time. Doc was going to fly in from Chicago to meet with Bonnie. We all assembled at Bonnie’s house in Long Island for our meet up.

At around 3pm a large black limousine pulled up in front of the house and three business-type guys in suits came in and sat down with us. Doc introduced himself and his associates. The conversation was what would have been expected; what they would do to make Bonnie successful, and what they wanted as percentages of income to manage. To me, they seemed like dressed up partiers who had money to blow and wanted to be successful in the music business. The chemistry just wasn’t there.

After we said our goodbyes, the band gave a thumb’s down to having Doc manage us. The next day Bonnie spoke with Doc and gave him the news. We were glad to keep the band together. She probably should have taken their offer. After our meeting, the first bands Doc McGhee signed were Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi. Who would have guessed that an unknown would turn out to be a managing genius.

---

Alan, and the Blow-Up Doll

It was 1979, and we were at the end of a short tour. We were playing at a nightclub in northern New Jersey, glad to finally be heading home after a week of shows. The subterranean dressing room was behind the kitchen area which was dark and dank.

I was hungry and decided to look around for something to eat. It’s amazing what a starving musician can scratch together for a meal on tour. Lo and behold, I found some potato chips. Perfect! Now all I had to do was find something to go with them. I found it—mustard, the perfect “poor man’s” dip. Some of the other guys joined in, and then Wayne noticed something in one of the darker areas of the room. He pulled out a disgustingly gross, deflated sex blow-up doll. Various unpleasant visions were evoked about how, who, and why.

Being the pranksters we were, David had the idea of opening Alan’s suitcase. He took the doll and folded it, face up, on top of Alan’s clothes. We wondered how the suitcase and its contents would “unfold” once Alan got home.

After a few days, Alan called and bemoaned our antics, stating that his mother opened his suitcase to wash his clothes only to find the open-mouthed doll face staring up at her. Of course, Alan must have told his mother that the guys in the band played a prank on him, but one never knows what a mother might worry about in the back of her mind.

I want to say unequivocally, here and now, that we-did-it! Alan is not guilty and is of sound mind and honorable character.

---

“Cupcake” Wayne & The Playboy Bunny

Mother’s was the club in downtown Chicago. We had gained such a huge following that it could take 20 minutes to just go from the dressing room to the bathrooms on the other side of the club. One particular night was jam-packed, and the band was dominating the stage. With all the stage lights, It was brutally hot on stage. Rudy and I had taken off our shirts to cool down. As we stood at the front of the stage playing our guitars, tons of girls were packed together in front of us. The sweat was literally flying off our bodies and onto the girls below us who were standing there with their mouths open. I’d never seen that before. Bonnie was also amping up the energy so much that the crowd was throwing drugs onto the stage floor. It was covered with pills and joints.

After the show, as the club was slowly emptying out, Rudy and I went to the opposite side of the club where Wayne had been mixing. Both of us immediately noticed an extremely beautiful girl standing by the mixing board-we both moved in to talk to her. She mentioned that she was a Playboy Bunny from the Lake Geneva area, where Hugh Hefner had a resort about 100 miles north in Wisconsin. She was adorable, and both Rudy and I were competing to see who would take her home. She then mentioned that Wayne was her “cupcake.” We both laughed and told her that Wayne was our roadie, but she kept repeating how much she liked him and that he was her cup-a-cake. Rudy and I, in disbelief, decided to move on. Nothing against Wayne, but he was massive, totally out of shape. I didn’t see the attraction.

Later, we found out that Wayne had taken her back to the hotel and rented a room with a waterbed. The visuals of that encounter have bounced around in my head all these years. There is something to be said about Rock ‘n’ Roll and the advantages that came with it. For Wayne, it was a miracle.

---

Wayne’s slip up with the Hell’s Angels

Great Gildersleeves was a nightclub one block north of the notorious CBGBs. I used to work as a bartender at CBGBs, and the owner, Hilly Kristal, was a Hell’s Angel earlier in his life. I had seen much of how the 2nd Street Hell’s Angels ran the area. They had some of the biggest guys around, standing 6’8″ and weighing 300 lbs, and they could be brutal.

The Angels loved the Bonnie Parker Band, and one member, in particular, used to come to all of our shows at Gildersleeves. His name was John The Baptist. He was a towering menace dressed in black leather and wearing his 1%er (one percenter) gang patch.

We had just finished our first set on stage when John came back to the dressing room to say hello. The band was there, including our sound-man, Wayne.

John The Baptist was taller than the doorframe, and as he dipped his head to walk in, he froze and started growling. It was like a fire was burning inside of him. We had seen his rage play out many times, but why was he getting so furious in the presence of the band he idolized?

All of a sudden, John whipped out his knife, and the tension in the room maxed out. He was staring at Wayne, whose eyes and face were freaking out. It just so happened that Wayne was wearing a black Outlaws T-shirt. The Outlaws were a band, but there was also a rival motorcycle gang by the same name– and the Hell’s Angels’ mortal enemies.

John screamed at Wayne, “Take that fucking shirt off, or I am going to cut it off you!” Wayne immediately tore the shirt off his massive body and threw it on the floor. John jumped on it and started stomping on it like a raging bull. Then he tore the shirt to shreds, leaving big Wayne with no XXX-large shirt to cover himself.

John stormed out of the room and plowed into the bar to get a drink while throwing and pushing people along the way. It was like we had just survived an F2 tornado.

---

Bonnie Faces off with The Pagans

We were playing The Dunes (till dawn) and the place was packed with about 900 people. The Dunes was a very large venue which was one of the clubs that New Jersey’s Senator Dodd owned. the club had a massive security presence of some aggressive large dudes. They could be sadistic in how they handled people and situations.

We were one of the big acts that Bobby, the club’s manager loved. We would always pack the place and we were great for business. The main bar was directly in front of the stage which was about five feet high. We had just finished one of our songs and after audience applauded we heard someone in front of the bar yell out “YOU SUCK!!” There is always at least one jerk in the crowd that does that, and as professionals we always ignored the idiot. For some reason, this time it got under Bonnie’s skin. She grabbed her microphone and points at the guy and yells back “FUCK YOU”!

The guy pushes the people in front of him out of his way and starts to scale the bar, climbing toward the stage in front of me. Rudy immediately gets on his microphone and calls out that we need help. By this time the guy had scaled the stage and was going right for Bonnie. Bonnie looked like she wanted to fight this guy. I was standing in between them and could see the bouncers streaming through the packed crowd. They flew onto the stage and grabbed the guy pulling him off Rudy’s side of the stage with all of our guitar and microphone cables tangled with them.

I thought to myself, “oh, they are going to beat the living crap out of that guy”. We ended up finishing the set and were heading toward the dressing room which happened to be in the same area the bouncers removed the guy to. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Bobby, the Dunes manager, was talking to this guy like he was a friend. Why wasn’t this guy pulp on the floor?

We found out afterwards that the guy was the leader of The Pagans motorcycle gang. That wasn’t good. Bonnie had definitely gotten on the wrong side of a bad dude.

We left the Dunes at “dawn” and headed back to the Buccaneer Motel where we all were staying. We were hanging around the pool area drinking and partying when we heard a Harley approaching. We got nervous as the that guy, with a girl on on the back, pulled into the parking lot and drove up to us. He got off his bike and approached Bonnie. He wanted to apologize for his actions, and Bonnie accepted.

Looking back, I think the fact that Senator Dodd had a lot of power in New Jersey must have created that truce.

---

Clone and His Two black Eyes

After several highly successful tours to Chicago. we decided to head back there once again. I had a girlfriend in Lancaster at the time. Her name was LeeAnn Hess. LeeAnn’s best friend Suzanne Park was our roadie Steve’s girlfriend. We used to call Steve CLONE because he looked like a clone of Peter Frampton. Clone used to be Richie Scarlet’s guitar roadie before I replaced Richie. Steve really liked Richie and there was always an air between Clone and me. I understood because we you fall in love with a band you don’t ever like someone leaving or being replaced.

We mentioned to Clone that we were going back to Chicago for three weeks and Steve said he didn’t want to leave his girlfriend for that long. We really wanted Clone to go with us and after a few days he agreed to make one last tour with us. We were grateful.

That changed once we arrived in Chicago and our first gig was at a club called Baby Huey’s. I had replaced my Farfisa organ with a classic Hammond B3. The B3 is THE organ that many of the best songs  and bands used. It was basically a church organ and was massive and heavy. I had a roller dolly that was specifically made to move the organ for tours.

Baby Huey’s had a two story staircase straight up into the club. The poor roadies struggled to get that organ and the rest of our equipment up to the second floor. One thing the Bonnie Parker Band always did–we paid the road crew first, even if it meant we didn’t get paid. We understood how important the road crew was.

Clone was bitching and moaning the whole night, stating he was going to head back to Lancaster. We were starting to regret having him on the tour which was just beginning.

That night we had a great time playing our songs in front of a big crowd. After the show, the band members were mingling with the crowd as we normally did. It was our time to unwind and decompress. I was chatting with a girl and all of a sudden someone yanks my arm and yells, “get to work!” It was Clone. What the hell was wrong with him? My blood was boiling and the other band members and crew were likewise complaining about Clone and how he was treating them. Wayne mentioned how Clone was dragging the equipment down the steps, letting the cases slam down on each step as they loaded the truck. Wayne was ready to give Clone a beat down but I told everyone to leave him to me.

Our truck was backed into the doorway of the club as it was being loaded. As Steve was heading for the open passenger door of the truck, I yelled out to him, “Clone, wait a second, I need to talk to you.” He simply ignored me and as he was about to step up into the cab, he tuned toward me. I sucker punched him right on the nose and his head flew back into the cab door behind him, and he fell to the ground. My rage and anger was spilling out on him as I took my punk studded bracelet and repeatedly whacked him upside the head.

The whole time he was pleading “Please Michael, please stop” and I was starting to feel bad. I stopped and as I looked up I saw a police car coming up the street. Rudy and Bonnie had come from around for the other side of the truck. Rudy ran up and grabbed me around the waist. I had so much adrenalin going through me that I picked up Rudy and slammed him to the ground not realizing what I had done. Rudy jumped up ready to fight, but realized I was out of my mind at that moment.

The police by that time had mad a U-turn and everyone told me to head back up stairs and into the club. By that time I was shirtless and sweating, and decided to come back down the steps to the cooler air outside. Two policemen were walking up the steps as I passed, looking at me but not stopping. I quickly left the club with Bonnie, Rudy, and David to head back to our hotel.

Since Clone was no longer part of our crew, Bonnie and Rudy figured out what we owed him. They went to his room to give him $14. They mentioned that Clone had two black eyes and had phoned his dad to wire him money to get home. It sounds pretty rough thinking about it now, but it was just how things were back then.

After our three weeks in Chicago, I dreaded the show at The Village that we had planned in Lancaster where Cloned lived. Sure enough, that night he was standing in the crowd right in front of me while I was playing on stage. I wondered whether he would pull out a gun and shoot me or, at the very least, I’d get a beer bottle in the face. After our set, Clone appeared at the dressing room door asking to come in. The band agreed and he started walking toward me. I told him to stop where he was, which was several feet from me. He stuck out his hand for me to shake but I declined. He said that he wanted to apologize and we all accepted. We all liked Clone, but his feelings got in the way of the commitment he made to us.

---

THE NIGHT THE MUSIC STOPPED

We were killing it out at our main stomping ground in Chicago which was Mother’s. Situated in downtown, we always had a massive crowd there. Likewise, back in New York, Twisted Sister was making national headlines with their DISCO SUCKS concerts around the tri-state area. Twisted Sister and Bonnie had gone back several years to the Long Island music scene.

While in Chicago, we got a call from our manager Desmond that Twisted sister was going to do a concert at the Palladium Theater in downtown 14th Street Manhattan. They wanted the Bonnie Parker Band to be the opening act, and we immediately said YES. The problem that arose from that was that is was going to take us away from a major show we had planned at Mothers that weekend.

We made the excuse and told the owners of the club that Bonnie was too sick to play that weekend. The club had to quickly get a stand-in band to replace us. We headed to Ohara Airport with the Desmond, the band and our crew. I remember making jokes about where Wayne would be sitting on the jet and how we would have to counterbalance him on the other side. As we were about to bord the jet, Desmond rushed to gather us together and give us the bad news that the Twisted Sister guitarist Eddie Ojeda had a seizure while going up the steps at their rehearsal back in NY, and the gig was canceled. What bad luck.

We had to stay incognito in Chicago even though we were able to play. The week prior, Foreigner had showed up to see us and that weekend the band that replaced us had the Eagles some to see us. There was nothing we could do. We made our bed and had to sleep in it.

The show with Twisted Sister was rescheduled and we had a great time playing with them at the Palladium as planned. Twisted Sister had their Disco Sucks sign lit up over the stage and we were glad to be back home playing in New York.

---

….more stories to come

The Satanists and Their Champagne