My Career as a Jug-bander

Remember the Lovin' Spoonful?

Well, they started out as a jug band. John Sebastian played the autoharp in those days. So I should be excused if my first sojourn into the world of musical performance was as a singer/three-chord guitarist/kazooist for the Corrugated Plywood Jug Band, a mercifully short-lived outfit spawned by the need to participate in the high school variety show.

Luckily, we had two actual musicians. Dennis could play guitar and piano; Dave played guitar, bass, and was an enthusiastic front man--probably more enthusiastic than our music deserved. We had washboards, jugs, and a washtub bass. We borrowed heavily from Jim Kweskin, songs like "I Wish that I Could Shimmy like My Sister Kate," and "Jug Band Music (Sure Sounds Sweet to Me)." A real crowd (well, small group) pleaser was the Lonnie Donegan masterwork, "Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?"

We actually played for pay a few times during the Summer of Love before we all were dispersed to college for the most tumultuous four years imaginable. We lost touch, except for an occasional high school reunion. Those were great times, though.

Perhaps that is why, about 25 years later, I agreed to appear in another show as a jug-bander. I recruited friends to play guitars (I hadn't improved much) and washboard, built a washtub bass, and suddenly, the Traveling Pillsburys were born. Our best number was borrowed from The Fabulous Fahrquahar, a tune called, "My Eggs Don't Taste the Same Without You," with its haunting refrain, "My heart's in a shambles, I can't eat my scrambles."

The Traveling Pillsburys were a two-night stand. That should have been the end of it, except one recent St. Patrick's Day, in a pub in Falmouth, the bass player began to look familiar--tall, square-jawed, unfretted bass. When the band took a break, I asked the waitress to ask him if he had ever played for the Corrugated Plywood Jug Band. Hearing the question, he leaped to his feet. "Who knew that?" he bellowed.

It was Dave. A joyous reunion ensued. He asked me if I still owned a guitar, and if I still played as badly. Yes, an Ovation, I answered, and yes, I do. All we need now is an excuse.