"Whenever two or more musicians gather, musical stories, recollections and memories start to flow. After a few have been recounted, someone always says, "We should write a book about these." Well, this isn't quite a book, but we welcome any true musical remembrance. Just e-mail your story to the e-mail address below, and we'll add it to this website for all to enjoy.

So, to get started, let me recall an actual performance that I witnessed and performed. Really, this happened!

One day I got a call from the pianist at the Stardust, a good-looking Latin guy named Guido. He said he'd gotten a great offer to play in the Caribbean for two weeks and would I cover for him at the Lido d'Paris show, twice a night at 8 and midnight. Sounded like a great job for both of us: me getting money and Guido getting whatever in the sunny climes of the Caribbean.

On his last night before leaving, I went to the Stardust on the early side to look at the book. I sat next to him and watched him play the show. Nothing too difficult, I discovered. Lots of chord symbol stuff. No exposed solos. Didn't seem to be a problem.

The next night, I got to the job, opened the book, checked a few passages and settled down to play the first show. The 15-piece band was barely seen by the audience. We were located on stage right, way up high in a cramped space with a very low ceiling. On that first night at the 8 o'clock show, I spent all my time playing the show, wanting to do a good job and, hopefully, impress the conductor that I was a good sub. At the midnight show, I did get a quick look now and then at what was happening on stage: the normal nude showgirls, animal acts, dancers, singers, etc. Typical lavish Las Vegas!

The next two nights were pretty uneventful. I became more relaxed at reading the book and actually enjoyed a couple of the charts. Then came the third night.

It started out about the same, at least on my part. However, during the 8 o'clock show, one of the tigers clawed his trainer back stage after their performance, and it was decided that that particular number should be cut from the midnight show. Sounded simple enough, but things that sound simple in showbiz rarely are.

And so, at the start of the midnight show, things took a turn for the worse. About 15 minutes into the show, instead of bringing up the elevator with the fake ice skating rink for the two skaters to use, the stage hands brought up the huge Plexiglas water tank with a live dolphin and very nude girl swimmer. The ice skaters had been doing their same routine for about 4 months, 2 shows a night, 7 days a week, and so, they promptly forgot about the change. Besides, it was quite dark, even behind the curtain. So, just as the curtain opened and the lights came on, they both stepped, or rather, fell into the huge tank of water holding a nude girl swimmer and the dolphin. Actually, the dolphin seemed to take in all in stride, but the nude girl and skaters started thrashing about, each trying to get out of the tank.

The lights were finally turned off and the curtain closed, leaving the tank with one real and 3 fake aquatic creatures in the dark once more. Thank heavens the elevator took the tank down and the stage was quickly reset for the next number.

This next number was a huge production number involving all eight of the nude showgirls, all sixteen dancers, and the two lead singers. Each showgirl, or nude, wore a huge "birdcage hat," almost three feet high. This, added to their already 5'11" or more height, plus their 3" shoes made them easily spotted, which was a good thing. In a perfect world, they were suppose to preset themselves on marks of colored tape on the stage floor and stand there while the curtain open to a dark stage. The 8 spotlight operators high up in the back of the theater would then find their respective girl with a pinpoint of light from their spots and hold their lights there, waiting for a cue. Then the cue would be given and the spotlights would all be turned on. At the same time, a small door beneath the spotlights would open and out would fly about 5 pigeons, each following their respective beam of light over the head of the audience to the waiting nude showgirl, landing on the perch on her birdcage hat. Ah, quite a sight. But on this night, this is what happened.

First, the nude showgirls couldn't see on stage and continued running around, looking for their tape marks, constantly bumping into the dancers. Suddenly someone gave the cue for the curtain to open. Bad call. As the curtain opened, the stage manager quickly yelled, "Lights!" On came the house lights as well as the spotlight operator's lights. The spot guys were trying to find "their" girl to fix on, and their beams were moving around the stage like a flashlight at a Cub Scout sleepover. And then the pigeons were release. Each pigeon tried valiantly to follow their respective dancing beam of light and none did. Some of them ended up flying up into the orchestra pit, becoming totally freaked out, dropping greenish bombs on the band members A few were seen flying out the open doors of the back stage area, never to return. They'd evidently had enough of show biz!

And, if that wasn't enough, just when things had settled down, apologies made and pauses taken, the elephants were brought out, parading around a small semi-circle runway that wound it's way into and out of the audience. The elephants included a "momma" elephant leading a "baby" holding the momma's tail. Cute, but since there had been a schedule change, the elephants had not been taken out to be "drain" in the desert at their normal time. And we all know that trained animals absolutely need a routine. Well, momma did alright, but baby let go a rather hearty stream in the direction of the audience, hitting one couple head on and causing others in the area to flee wildly.

Seeing this "liquid situation," one of the stage hands was told to clean things up. He grabbed a mop and ran out, wiping as he went. Not being use to this type of duty, he took a few swipes at the liquid and, in his haste, slipped on a slick spot and fell. The band had quit playing by this time, mostly because no one could stop from laughing. It's just about impossible to blow into an instrument and laugh at the same time. The only one who continued was the percussionist, who managed to capture each spectacular visual episode with just the right amount of snare drum roll and cymbal crash. Was there a show the next night? Of course, and nothing unusual happen. However, at each of the moments of the show where oddities had occurred the previous evening, the band just about lost it. Ah, showbiz.

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