Our concerns turned to celebration when we pulled into the Agora parking lot. The club was already packed! Sometimes I could just tell when a gig was going to be special. That was one of those nights. My premonition was verified right away as the Agora manager waved us over and informed us that Frank Zappa, along with an entourage was in the audience. He pointed a finger in the general area in the second level where Zappa was supposed to be sitting, but it was too dark to see much from where I was standing. Still carrying my guitar case and gig clothes bag, I made my way a little closer until I could make out the light reflecting off of a huge black man's bald head. We were told that the bald head belonged to Zappa's personal bodyguard. Then I spotted Frank. The residual excitement from earlier in the day seemed to swell up again at the sight of one of my earliest influences in music. I had long been a big fan of Zappa's so the last night of our road trip to Houston was off to another great start!

It was crazy in the club that night. The level of intoxication was higher than usual. There was hooting and hollering and cheering before we even started. We'd been trading off opening and closing with a local band called True Heart. This was their night to close, so we only had two short sets to do and then we could party on for the rest of the night and wind down for the trip home. 

First sets were usually tame, but not that night. Apparently a lot of people had spent the day in full-tilt party mode, perhaps at the Astrodome. Then, just as Rick was just about to count off the intro to the last song of our first set, Hud appeared from the shadows, gave Rick the universal hand signal for "time out", and handed Ricky a note from the side of the stage. I could tell by Ricky's reaction that something big was going down. It was amazing how many scenarios my mind managed to play out in only a few seconds before I would find out what was in that note. 

Onstage with Ricky at the Agora. 

Rick Miller was on the mic inviting everyone to stay around for the next set, and to tip the waitresses and blah blah blah. Ricky was still huddled with Hud, and the rest of the band didn't seem to be paying much attention. Curiosity was getting the best of me. My first thought was that perhaps the building had exceeded its occupancy load, and the Fire Marshall was shutting us down. Then I wondered if maybe we were going to play an extended set for some reason. Or had their been some national emergency, such as the president being shot. It had happened once not so long ago. When Hud scurried back into the shadows, I curiously sided up to Ricky. I didn't even have to ask. He showed me the crude note written on a cocktail napkin. The note said, "REO is in the dressing room. They want to play."

My honest reaction was elation. I didn't mind having to get used to hanging out with famous musicians. I tried to count quickly in my head: this was our third or fourth - maybe fifth brush with rock and roll fame in as many days.  But as the note made its way around to the other band members, I was seeing a very different response from some of the guys. I didn't get it at first, but about half way through the last song of the set I started wondering if  maybe some of my band mates could still be holding a grudge against REO - the band - for us getting bumped from the Jam. Surely not. That couldn't be it, could it? Weren't we supposed to be famous for never uttering a discouraging word, no matter how badly we were abused by the worst assholes in the music industry? 

Finally, the set ended and we made our way back to the dressing room to take a break and see what all the commotion had been about. It was like walking into the Twilight Zone. I wasn't quite used to seeing so many famous rockers in such short a period of time. Making themselves at home in our dressing room were all the members of the band that had just released "High Infidelity", one of 1981's biggest albums featuring hits like  "Don't Let Him Go", "Take It On the Run.", and one of the best known power ballads ever recorded, "Keep on Loving You".  They looked a little road weary, and one or two had wives and children with them. They were just hanging around, and we couldn't wait to find out what for.

As usual, we entered without creating a lot of fanfare. We didn't want to spook them or make fools of ourselves. (That's funny when I think back on what I was probably wearing that night.) The key was to blend in and hold our own. Each of us trusted that the others would fight the urge to fall to their knees and bow while shouting "WE'RE NOT WORTHY!"  Nobody did.  There was a cool exchange of introductions and (singer) Kevin Cronin seemed to speak for the group as he told us that the band had heard about us getting bumped from the show, and assured us they had no knowledge of it. The whole thing had been politics behind the scene and the guys were really sorry we didn't get to have the big break that we deserved. We'd been down that road before and had the scrapbooks to prove it, but all of us had long been over the whole thing. The FIRST whole thing. This was a fresh new thing and while I felt that I was over it, I wasn't sure about the other guys. I was relieved to hear my band mates claiming that it was water under the bridge - the trials and tribulations of the music biz. In short, we unanimously told them we were just thrilled to have them drop by.

With the ice broken, we all went on about our individual rituals, tuning guitars, changing shirts, touching up makeup and hair, and getting a drink or two before going back on. In the meantime, we sort of broke up into groups, chatting with various members of the band. Even though the initial "coolness" wore off fairly quickly, there was still that little voice in my head that was wanting to run out into the club and shout "Nanny nanny boo boo! REO is in our dressing room and you can't come in!"  But then hearing voices was nothing new for me and I kept it in check. 

Just as we were about to go back up for our final set, we asked them if they wanted to sit in. They all looked at each other sort of suspiciously and Cronin responded by telling us they'd like to go up and play a few songs with their whole group. We'd had big time players sit in with us before, but never the whole band! A stingy part of me was wishing for a chance to get to "jam" with them, but there was a bigger picture to think about. So what do you tell REO Speedwagon when they ask if they can play a few songs during your set? You say, "Well hell yeah!" They asked if we'd go up and do a couple of songs and then bring them up. So that's what we did.  First we announced that we had a really huge surprise later on in the set, we played a couple of songs. When Ricky finally announced that  REO was in the house, the crowd went completely out of their minds!  Then Rick Miller had the honor of telling them that REO was not only in the house, but they were going to PLAY! It was sheer pandemonium. We played one more song and then turned our stage, and our equipment, over to REO Speedwagon. 

Rick Miller tells a packed Houston Agora audience that 
REO Speedwagon is in the house!

My brother Chris was there that night and captured their set on video. Kevin Cronin played my Cherry Starburst Les Paul, and broke a string on it while playing. Gary Richrath had a roadie with him who had quickly set up his own amp and was tuning his own guitar for him. Everyone else used Savvy stuff. They played about 6 or 8 songs - all hits - and everyone was on their feet. Richrath was bouncing around all over the place, playing the hell out of his guitar. From the back of the stage where I was standing, I could see that Richrath's roadie was crouched behind his amp. I wondered what he was doing back there until I saw the vial and tiny spoon in his hands. Rick Miller saw it too and I heard him say, "Ain't nuthin' wrong."  Every few minutes, Richrath would run back to his amp, lean over it, and the roadie would have a "bump" ready to go up the guitar player's nose.. No wonder the guy was so energetic. (In later years, it would become common knowledge that Gary Richrath suffered bouts with substance abuse, so I don't think I'm talking out of school here. Besides, hell. This was rock and roll at its peak!)

Their performance that night sounded a lot better live in the room than it did on the resulting video tape, but it's hard to duplicate a unique sound using unfamiliar equipment. Besides, our video camera was pretty primitive to start with and we were recording off the camera mic. It didn't matter. It was REO Speedwagon, by God!  I'd been doing their songs since back at the Hungry I. When Desperados played at Savvy's during that first Labor Day Telethon, we started with "Riding the Storm Out". Later in Savvy we'd worked up a cool version of REO's "Turkey Trot" - a fun instrumental featuring guitar.  We were big fans, even after their management supposedly bumped us. 

A monumental memory was being burned into the hard drive of my brain as I stood in the shadows of the Agora stage watching those guys play their hits on our guitars, singing into our mics, to our audience. Well, at least it HAD been our audience until they took the stage. (Even rock and roll has a pecking order.) They finished our stage time and we ended up back in our dressing room with them again as our crew pulled our stuff off and True Heart sat up for their closing sets. We changed clothes and put our guitars away, still making small talk with the REO guys. Some of them said goodbyes and left, but Cronin, Richrath, and bassist Bruce Hall stayed on to jam some more with the next band. It was an awkward way to start a set, but True Heart played their first song with Kevin Cronin playing drums for them. Cronin didn't know the band's arrangement and the song ended up suffering. But it was, after all, just a jam. The video was still running as they had to "jam" their way through a couple more songs that weren't familiar to Cronin, but he didn't seem to care. He was having a good time at the expense of the True Heart guys.  I'm sure True Heart didn't mind either. It was their turn to rub elbows with the rich and famous. 

The next day, as I  was sitting on the curb in front of Houston's Hobby Airport waiting for the rest of the band to arrive, I was browsing through a local music magazine. There was an article about the Houston Texas Jam and the bands that were scheduled to perform there. Right there in the short REO Speedwagon bio was an important fact that had been lost on all of us until that moment. REO Speedwagon was managed by Irving Azoff and Frontline Management -- the same Irving Azoff that managed the Eagles... the same guy who'd bumped us from the '80 jam at the Cotton Bowl.  Messina had been very careful not to mention Azoff that second time around. The bad guys, as far as we'd been told, were  faceless - nameless management suits for REO. Could it have been Azoff this time too? I couldn't help but wonder if it were true. I couldn't help but wonder how he could live with himself if he'd bumped a young, up and coming band from having their big break two years in a row. This one man in his ivory tower seemed to have adopted Savvy as his personal little punching bag. His little bitches. I was tired and beginning to have mental images of Azoff taking too much pleasure in pulling the rug out from under us again. I dropped the magazine and rubbed my eyes with my fists until I could hear them squishing. Thank God for sunglasses. 

A familiar whistle caught my attention. It was Rich walking over to me with his carry-on bag. "Man, Jonezy! You look GLOSSY!"  he said in his perpetual good natured way.  But I was way beyond glossy at that point.  I was GRILLED. All of a sudden, home was really sounding good to me.

CHAPTER 24: COLORADO HERE I COME! 

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