My Real Memoir

We were famous! And not just for 15 minutes, but for a week! Our band The Daily Planet had been chosen the Best New Music Group in the Western U.S. and had driven to Hollywood to shoot the first of (no doubt) many primetime music specials to come!

The next day, we met our producer, man’s man Robert Peterson, hunting and car aficionado; whose private office elevator opened on a massive polar bear he’d shot (now stuffed and mounted in attack position); whose massive car collection later became a major automotive museum; and whose massive publishing domain included dozens of top magazines (Motor Trend, Surfing, Tiger Beat, Teen, Guns & Ammo). In other words, Robert “Bob” Peterson didn’t do small! Yet all that bigness aside, he was gracious and down-to-earth, and we took an immediate and “massive” liking to him.

Legendary guitarist Billy Strange, who could have lived well into the 25^th century on royalties from his James Bond Theme recording alone (“DUM-da-dum-dum-dum, dum-DUM-da-dum-dum-dum…”), was our music producer. All of the show’s music performances were pre-recorded and lip-synched. In our case, make that lip-sunk because, like railroad workers, we were expected to quickly sink our tracks and move on. We were disappointed, but…

That night, Marc and I received a special visit from our girlfriends Helen and Marty, and were immensely cheered. Not only because we loved them, but because they’d just had their periods. Let me explain: I previously mentioned that, as couples we’d recently surrendered our respective virginities and, being 18-year-olds with underdeveloped frontal cortexes, begun regularly spinning the fertility dial. Hence, just before our trip to Hollywood, Helen and Marty had forewarned us that they’d both missed their monthly visit from Aunt Flo, and that we might, therefore, not only be on the verge of teenage stardom, but of teenage parenthood.

The next day, we tried on our costumes, custom-made by our haute-baroque clothing designer Boyd; his theme was “patent leather hippies.” Everything fit except my knee-high boots. Boyd fulminated over my “Popeye calves!” (thanks to seven years of paper-boying in a hilly housing tract), and concluded he’d have no choice but to “destroy” them by adding “ugly extension panels!”

The night before filming there was a Press Party at The Daisy in Beverly Hills, the most exclusive nightclub of the era, hosted by Tony Bennett. Being Bob Peterson’s favorite band, and the only ones who lived near enough to bring our own instruments, we provided the musical entertainment. The audience cheered, and the buzz after our performance was that we were a shoo-in to win the Best New Group in the U.S. title—which included a Capital Records deal!

Afterward, a slightly stewed Tony Bennett put his arms around us and told us we were his new protégés! And Producer Bob told us he’d decided to make us the opening act on Glen Campbell’s upcoming national tour! We felt bad for the other two groups on the show—they were good eggs and we liked them. Maybe one of them could open for us when we headlined…

Our first national tour!

My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.