The good old days Hello, my name is Schatzie, I am an organ grinders’ monkey, I play banjo. I am a typical sideman, and I work for Frankie, have for many years. Frank is not your typical accordionist. There was a time when he was one of the most popular bandleaders in the world. In the old days (read: good old days) he was a polka music icon. He had a band consisting of the most talented musicians he could find. In fact, those sidemen were equally as talented as my boss, and without them, he would have had to hire me many decades sooner than he did. I remember when he traveled the country with a 6 piece polka band, the makeup of the band always stayed the same. Later on, however, when the schedule got too busy and hectic, he would be forced to pick up musicians from the area of the towns he would play. Most sidemen had families and fulltime jobs and could not stay away from home for the extended times required of a touring band. Several of these talented sidemen formed successful bands of their own, putting more sidemen to work, and, spawning more new bands. Heck, I remember opening the local paper on the Friday Entertainment section and seeing at least two full pages of ads, some posted by the bands, but most were placed by the local clubs, dance halls, and taverns. Why, there must have been 30 ads on each page, some with a photo of the band. Back then if your place of business had live music, you let the public know about it. Now, for some reason unknown to me, no one promotes my beloved polka music in the newspapers, go figure. As the years went by, musical styles began to slowly change. The large dance bands were being replaced by combos of many varieties of instrumentation. Two musicians, one from Waukesha, and another in California were experimenting with solid body electric guitars and amplifiers and effects gizmos to plug them into. These stringed, electronic hunks of wood, would eventually spawn the birth of Southern Blues and later become rock and roll. Unlike heretofore, conventional partner dancing, it was now cool to dance by yourself or with 20 other people. Meanwhile, Frankie adapted to the changing moods, by playing smaller venues with a smaller band, sometimes combining with other bands, to keep his music in the forefront. Finally, after many, many years of pulling on the old squeeze box, Frankie could no longer handle the tortures of the travel scene and the heavy accordion, and he retired. Of course, to a tradesman, retirement means doing for almost nothing, what used to be his means of survival. Today, Frankie, with his old organ grinder, I, keep kind of busy just doing gigs for Senior dances, the nice people at the old folks homes, and an occasional party or jam session. Any place we can get a bite to eat, is a stage waiting for us to play. However, more people are asking if he can play anything besides polkas, huh? He only played 3 in the last hour. This, for a Polka King? I like to think of the old times, when most people could hardly afford to purchase a ticket to dance. Yet, the dancers would put the last pennies they had, into my cup as I stood in front of the 6 piece band. Very heart warming, indeed. Every once in awhile, like today, Frankie will take me with him to visit one of the local dance halls where we can listen to the nice music of one of the local bands. However, I notice that the crowds are getting smaller and the dancers, mostly ladies now, are getting older. I notice also, that the 6 piece band is now a three piece band, or worse, a guy with a keyboard. What happened? During one of the intermissions, I hear the young bandleader who worked his way over to our table, tell Frankie that he has been asked by the dance organizer to reduce his band to 2 pieces. He refuses, knowing that in a few months the next request will be for him to do a solo gig. Frankie tells him that it is not for lack of money that the patrons and club owners don’t tip the band, or hire bigger bands. When we look around we see everyone dressed in the nicest clothes, and the ladies with the latest jewelry and hair fashions, and the parking lot filled with big, expensive cars. We nod in agreement. The band leader states that his band and sound equipment probably costs more than some of those cars, as does the insurance and maintenance. Frankie tells the young musician, as he gets ready to head back to the stage, that in the good ol’ days, most patrons couldn’t afford cars but they always tipped the band, bought them a drink, and frequently invited the whole band to stay at their home while we were in town. Ahhh! I remember those days. The music starts up and we stay for the rest of the gig, shake a few hands and reminisce with some old friends, before heading out. Hopefully, on the way home, we’ll stop at a George Webb, for a sandwich. In the car, Frankie is telling me about the wedding reception he went to a few months ago. He said the band was substituted to a man operating a CD player. He laughingly joked that even I could learn to do that, with just a few hours of training, and that I would make twice as much money as the young bandleader would with a 5 piece band! And, you wanna know what the best part was, he asked? Well, he said, “the record player man refused to play a polka, probably didn’t have any, and the music he played was so loud that my friends and I were forced to leave”. OK! Now I know why, when he came home early that night, he dug out some of his old records and played them on the old phonograph. Just longing for the good old days, I guess! Written by Ron Vandenboom
Posted on: Sat, 03 Jan 2015 19:50:35 +0000
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