Thank you, Lord, for the gift of music; and for the blessing of being a guitarist in an enormously popular band, in Atlanta, Georgia, during the 1970’s.
“Silver Creek,” was our band’s name.
The nucleus of the band had been together since high school. Our first gigs were a high school talent show (which we won by performing two of the biggest tunes of the day – Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Green River” and Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4”) and playing in the lunch room during 4th period (A, B, & C Lunch) on St. Patircks’ Day (our school was the “Fighting Irish”). The band was extremely popular with our fellow students.
All bands eventually go through personnel changes. This one certainly did.
Some of our guys happened to work with two other musicians who were looking to join a band.
Musician #1 was a really good drummer – skinny as a rail, with fiery red hair. “Robert” would become a real asset to our group in the years to come.
The 1970’s was rock music's heyday. Places to play were as plentiful as fleas on a collie. Clubs, bars, singles apartment clubhouse parties, fraternity and sorority parties, corporate outings, private parties, restaurants and “lounges,” county fairs, small concert halls, outdoor sports venues, grand openings for new businesses, high school dances and pep rallies, and a hundred other venue types were constantly needing rock and roll bands. The work was steady and the money was decent.
Silver Creek was given a tryout at Effie’s when their regular cover band had a conflict on a Saturday night booking. A good audition would bring a week-long gig. That Saturday afternoon we loaded up the gear and headed out. The largest crowd ever at Effie’s showed up that night to hear our little five piece group. The night was truly "electric." After three hours non-stop cover tunes from Aerosmith, Grand Funk Railroad, Bad Company, ZZ Top, BTO, The Stones, and others, the crowd refused to go home.
One segment of Effie's clientele was especially prolific. The female segment.
Women, women and more women. They came in the door like cattle at a county fair auction. Blondes, brunettes, red-heads, tall, round, thin, big-chested, flat-chested, bone-hard ugly, drop-dead gorgeous, some of legal age, and some not. One by one these precious creatures appeared. They had several things in common: they were searching for a good time, hoping to dance a little, and maybe even find a nice guy to talk to. There might have been other reasons.
Suddenly, Robert, our drummer, began screaming. “Hey...Look, man!...Look at…BILL!” I opened my eyes and saw the eye-popping mammarial display only a few feet away. Robert yelled again, “Man!...Look at BILL!” Robert was attempting to continue the beat of the song while gesturing wildly toward the opposite end of the stage with one of his drumsticks.
When this guitar player was finally able to look, what he saw was extraordinary.
Bill was D-A-N-C-I-N-G!
Bill - the science freak, egghead, intellectual, solitary, “stationary” man – was hopelessly overcome with the sensuous, fleshly display he was witnessing. Bill was smiling, laughing, moving around, swaying, leaning back and forth, shaking his head in approval, and doing a "dance" all his own.
This stoic, unmovable, guy, that normally stood like a proverbial Cigar Store Indian, was going absolutely rock and roll crazy! That little stage at Effie’s rocked and rumbled each time Bill gyrated back and forth.
Soon, the bouncers came and got Little-Miss-Orange-Chiffon-Tube-Top. As they helped her off the dance floor, the males in the crowd booed. She was not seen again during the rest of the evening.
Musician #2 was a vocalist who was also a songwriter, harmonica player, and the owner a decent PA system – which we badly needed at the time. “Bob” became the tender-hearted core of our band.
These fellows were welcomed into our number. The band that would become "SilverCreek" was beginning to take shape.
The next hurdle was and is the most common one faced by every band that has ever struck up a tune.
The next hurdle was and is the most common one faced by every band that has ever struck up a tune.
Where does this band practice?
We had bounced around between parents’ living rooms, neighborhood garages, at least one old barn, and an apartment complex clubhouse (where some of our equipment was eventually stolen). About this time, as good fortune would have it, this writer’s parents moved from one metro Atlanta County to another, and into a brick house with a basement. This house was located on what was then still somewhat of a county road, on a piece of land that was surrounded with woods on one side and open terrain on the other. It was THE perfect place for a loud band to practice.
We had bounced around between parents’ living rooms, neighborhood garages, at least one old barn, and an apartment complex clubhouse (where some of our equipment was eventually stolen). About this time, as good fortune would have it, this writer’s parents moved from one metro Atlanta County to another, and into a brick house with a basement. This house was located on what was then still somewhat of a county road, on a piece of land that was surrounded with woods on one side and open terrain on the other. It was THE perfect place for a loud band to practice.
The 1970’s was rock music's heyday. Places to play were as plentiful as fleas on a collie. Clubs, bars, singles apartment clubhouse parties, fraternity and sorority parties, corporate outings, private parties, restaurants and “lounges,” county fairs, small concert halls, outdoor sports venues, grand openings for new businesses, high school dances and pep rallies, and a hundred other venue types were constantly needing rock and roll bands. The work was steady and the money was decent.
Silver Creek had found its place. We were a working band, and loving every rock and roll minute of it.
One of our favorite places to play was a restaurant/bar just west of Atlanta. “Effie’s Kitchen” served good food, and had rock bands playing six nights per week.
One of our favorite places to play was a restaurant/bar just west of Atlanta. “Effie’s Kitchen” served good food, and had rock bands playing six nights per week.
Silver Creek was given a tryout at Effie’s when their regular cover band had a conflict on a Saturday night booking. A good audition would bring a week-long gig. That Saturday afternoon we loaded up the gear and headed out. The largest crowd ever at Effie’s showed up that night to hear our little five piece group. The night was truly "electric." After three hours non-stop cover tunes from Aerosmith, Grand Funk Railroad, Bad Company, ZZ Top, BTO, The Stones, and others, the crowd refused to go home.
When the night was over, the club owner told us we were THE best local band he had ever heard. We were immediately booked for an entire month, which was longer than Effie’s had ever held a group over. Our time had finally come. We could quit our day jobs.
Effie’s Kitchen attracted all types of people. Long hairs, rednecks, hippies, geeks, bikers, blue collar and white collar, black and white, male and female. They all came for different reasons, but, certainly, many were there because loud rock and roll were there.
Effie’s Kitchen attracted all types of people. Long hairs, rednecks, hippies, geeks, bikers, blue collar and white collar, black and white, male and female. They all came for different reasons, but, certainly, many were there because loud rock and roll were there.
One segment of Effie's clientele was especially prolific. The female segment.
Women, women and more women. They came in the door like cattle at a county fair auction. Blondes, brunettes, red-heads, tall, round, thin, big-chested, flat-chested, bone-hard ugly, drop-dead gorgeous, some of legal age, and some not. One by one these precious creatures appeared. They had several things in common: they were searching for a good time, hoping to dance a little, and maybe even find a nice guy to talk to. There might have been other reasons.
Too, anyone who has ever followed rock and roll knows a universal truth about women who show up at clubs, concerts, and most other places where music is played. Women L-O-V-E the boys in the band! One of THE sweetest places on earth for a musician to be is onstage performing before an adoring crowd of females.
One of the “boys” in our band was “Bill.” He was our second guitarist and sang harmony vocal. Bill was an excellent musician, and could also repair while blindfolded any amplifier, microphone, or other electronic gizmo.
There was one thing, though, that Bill was NOT. He was not a dancer - by any means. If Bill had starred in “Saturday Night Fever,” the Bee Gees might never have gotten beyond singing for weddings and funerals. Bill rarely if ever moved while onstage. His guitar work was impeccable and he capably sang many a harmony line. But, beyond this, Bill was never going to be confused with Tom Jones or Elvis.
One particular Saturday night, Effie’s Kitchen was “hopping.” Silver Creek was loud and in fine form. The crowd had developed a buzz, and the dance floor was filled on every song. As always, women – hot, incredibly good looking women – were everywhere. What a great time to be young, a guitar player, and part of a really, really good rock band.
One of the “boys” in our band was “Bill.” He was our second guitarist and sang harmony vocal. Bill was an excellent musician, and could also repair while blindfolded any amplifier, microphone, or other electronic gizmo.
There was one thing, though, that Bill was NOT. He was not a dancer - by any means. If Bill had starred in “Saturday Night Fever,” the Bee Gees might never have gotten beyond singing for weddings and funerals. Bill rarely if ever moved while onstage. His guitar work was impeccable and he capably sang many a harmony line. But, beyond this, Bill was never going to be confused with Tom Jones or Elvis.
One particular Saturday night, Effie’s Kitchen was “hopping.” Silver Creek was loud and in fine form. The crowd had developed a buzz, and the dance floor was filled on every song. As always, women – hot, incredibly good looking women – were everywhere. What a great time to be young, a guitar player, and part of a really, really good rock band.
Sweet memories.
At one point during the show, the dance floor emptied with the exception of one young lady. She was a strawberry blonde in her early twenties, the possessor of a beautiful face, and an even better physique. She was wearing stacked heels, tight jeans, and the prettiest orange, 100% cotton, tube top that K-Mart ever sold. That top was perfectly positioned in the one area of this pretty young thing’s upper torso. No one would have ever guessed where that top would eventually wind up.
The song that seemed to light this young thing’s fire was ZZ Top’s hit, “Waitin’ On The Bus.” Her boyfriend stayed with her on the dance floor through the first half of, “Waiting On The Bus.” But, retreated to a seat when the tune changed gears. The second part of the song was a slow, bluesy type number, with a steady, pulsating bass line. It was THE perfect song for a lead guitarist to show his chops; and, for a pretty young thing in an orange tube top to show hers.
In the middle of the guitar solo, the action began. All alone now on the dance floor, she must have known that every guy in the place was watching her. Slowly, sensuously, and graphically, this young lady began to disrobe. One gentle tug after another at that orange top was gradually bringing it ever closer to her navel.
At one point during the show, the dance floor emptied with the exception of one young lady. She was a strawberry blonde in her early twenties, the possessor of a beautiful face, and an even better physique. She was wearing stacked heels, tight jeans, and the prettiest orange, 100% cotton, tube top that K-Mart ever sold. That top was perfectly positioned in the one area of this pretty young thing’s upper torso. No one would have ever guessed where that top would eventually wind up.
The song that seemed to light this young thing’s fire was ZZ Top’s hit, “Waitin’ On The Bus.” Her boyfriend stayed with her on the dance floor through the first half of, “Waiting On The Bus.” But, retreated to a seat when the tune changed gears. The second part of the song was a slow, bluesy type number, with a steady, pulsating bass line. It was THE perfect song for a lead guitarist to show his chops; and, for a pretty young thing in an orange tube top to show hers.
In the middle of the guitar solo, the action began. All alone now on the dance floor, she must have known that every guy in the place was watching her. Slowly, sensuously, and graphically, this young lady began to disrobe. One gentle tug after another at that orange top was gradually bringing it ever closer to her navel.
And, not a bouncer in sight.
Almost every male in the place was going crazy. This serious guitar player was right in the middle of the aforementioned solo. As he carefully watched what he was paying on the fretboard, he was oblivious to what was happening just a few feet in front of him on the dance floor. He assumed the audience was cheering for him. Never did any audience we ever played for make that much noise.
Almost every male in the place was going crazy. This serious guitar player was right in the middle of the aforementioned solo. As he carefully watched what he was paying on the fretboard, he was oblivious to what was happening just a few feet in front of him on the dance floor. He assumed the audience was cheering for him. Never did any audience we ever played for make that much noise.
Suddenly, Robert, our drummer, began screaming. “Hey...Look, man!...Look at…BILL!” I opened my eyes and saw the eye-popping mammarial display only a few feet away. Robert yelled again, “Man!...Look at BILL!” Robert was attempting to continue the beat of the song while gesturing wildly toward the opposite end of the stage with one of his drumsticks.
When this guitar player was finally able to look, what he saw was extraordinary.
Bill was D-A-N-C-I-N-G!
Bill - the science freak, egghead, intellectual, solitary, “stationary” man – was hopelessly overcome with the sensuous, fleshly display he was witnessing. Bill was smiling, laughing, moving around, swaying, leaning back and forth, shaking his head in approval, and doing a "dance" all his own.
This stoic, unmovable, guy, that normally stood like a proverbial Cigar Store Indian, was going absolutely rock and roll crazy! That little stage at Effie’s rocked and rumbled each time Bill gyrated back and forth.
Soon, the bouncers came and got Little-Miss-Orange-Chiffon-Tube-Top. As they helped her off the dance floor, the males in the crowd booed. She was not seen again during the rest of the evening.
From that fateful night, and until the band played its last show, Bill was a changed man. He never stood still onstage again. Bill's transformation became one of THE greatest memories this guitar player received from his days with a band called Silver Creek.
Thank you, Bill.
Rock on, brother.
Thank you, Bill.
Rock on, brother.
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