Greetings Correspondents:
I am hopelessly behind with all kinds of email - work, personal, and the
prolific Joni email. It's been a wonderful, except for a death in the
family, summer full of music, friends, and houseguests. UGH! to the latter.
But I do have a little Hairy story of my own to share.
Picture this. I was a young acolyte at St. Anne's Episcopal - now buried
under the Century Freeway here in Los Angeles. My personal hero, role
model, idol at the time, and five or so years my senior, Senior Server Greg
Hernandez (I started wearing red socks due to Greg's influence) and his
way-to-cool older half-sister Debbie DeVore had three tickets to Hair. One
Sunday over cookies after church, they suggested I tag along. Was I
impressed. The big kids were going to Hollywood. In a car, with Debbie and
Greg, Hollywood, a hippie show. They wanted me to go and I was beside
myself. YOU DID NEED PARENTAL CONSENT. My parents flatly refused, but were
ignorant to Debbie's amazing forgery skills. I was on my way the next
Saturday night, on the pretense of going to a movie and to hang out with
other church kids -- luckily Mom and Pop never put two and two about the
dates together. I guess I was about 14? Maybe younger? It was early in the
performance at the Aquarius Theater.
They picked me up at the door of our long, low, and lovely Bixby Knolls home.
I remember what I was wearing. Very wide striped cream colored cords with
bells, a paisley button down collar shirt, and wing tips with red socks, hair
parted on the side, slicked with just enough Dep. I thought I looked HOT.
Maybe for the Sound of Music in its twentieth week of play at the Crest. You
can take the boy out of Bixby Knolls...They laughed and the best they could
do was put me in a purple tie dye T-shirt (way too big) and a pair of beach
thongs someone left in Debbie's now infamous VW.
The show was amazing. NUDE! I had never seen a nude body but my own and my
little brother's. The nude scene was at the end of act one. Everything
after that is a blur. We danced on stage at the end. I felt like such an
adult. It was wild.
Well, Mom and Pop found out about our little scam after comparing notes with
Greg and Debbie's folks. I was grounded for a month, they were grounded even
longer for corrupting me, but it was worth every lonely moment in my TV-less
seclusion.
Fast forward some years ahead. There was a revival on stage at the Old Vic
in London. This must have been 1993 or 1994. Brad and I scored tickets
through the concierge at the hotel where we were staying in the West End. I
really saw the show this time, and heard the music. It was amazing all over
again. It felt like an instant replay of that evening so many years ago.
I was invited to see the Los Angeles production with Sam Harris and Steven
Weber but declined. My memories of Hair are too precious to risk.
Peace, Man.
No regrets,
Coyote Rick
Casa Alegre
Hollywood, California
