Back in 1973, I drove out to Arizona to spend the winter with a friend who had just relocated to Scottsdale after a sad divorce. She kept calling me urging me to hurry out there. She was lonely and if I didn't get there soon she was, out of boredom, going to start dating this guy George whom she didn't really like that much. I did not get there in time. When I rolled into town, she was dating George as a prelude to a thirty-year marriage that would last until her death.
She was lovely about trying to include me in things, but, let's be real, I found myself sitting home alone on a fair number of Saturday nights. I was doing just that one evening when I got a call from my new friend, Liz, begging me to pick up another new friend, Anne, and come sit in the expensive seats at a theater-in-the-round the name of which I've long forgotten. (For those of you from Phoenix, I think it was somewhere around 32nd Street maybe near McDowell but it's been a long time.) First Edition was playing and the crowd was sparse. I guess management asked Liz and the other ushers to do what they could to fill out the crowd. Or Liz just took it upon herself. She was that kind of person (a compliment).
So, Anne and I arrived and took front-row seats for the second half of the show. First Edition, by then known as Kenny Rogers and The First Edition, offered an eclectic selection of songs. Their act was about as far away from the Rolling Stones it could get and still remain under the rock umbrella. Not particularly cool. Neither was I, although I tried not to draw attention to that fact.
I remember Kenny Rogers, the lead singer, looming over us in our front row seats. In my memory, he was dressed much like a groomsman at a 1970s wedding, sans tie and perhaps a few ruffles. Or perhaps the groom. I think the suit was white. I assume I liked the performance. The band had a few big hits in its past. Truth is, I don't remember much. What I do remember is what happened after the show.
Liz wanted to meet Kenny and somehow Liz, Anne and I ended up walking out of the theater with Kenny, a woman I assumed was a business contact, a kid whom I thought was a reporter and the opening act Pat Paulsen who at that point had probably been, based on his recurring role on The Smothers Comedy Hour and a high-profile, tongue-in-cheek run for president in 1968, a hotter show biz commodity than First Edition had ever been. But, in 1974, like Kenny's, his star had dimmed a bit.
I wasn't comfortable playing the fan role. So, I didn't have much to say but I did get to observe what a genuinely nice man Kenny Rogers was. Liz was excited and kept the conversation going and the mood was all very relaxed and pleasant. (Although at one point a circle formed and Pat Paulsen and I found ourselves excluded from the group. I won't bore you with the details but I will say that we made each other laugh--and yes I played an active role and made him chuckle if not guffaw.) The group spoke for five, maybe ten minutes at the most, and then broke up.
As I watched Kenny and his manager walk towards the motel across the parking lot, I remember thinking that is one of the saddest things I've ever seen. The year was 1974. Sometime that year Kenny decided to go solo. I can't trace his career but I can tell you that within a few years, and for the rest of his life, I would not have been able to get within one hundred yards of Kenny Rogers. He became huge. I cannot emphasize huge enough. The man I pitied, the man I wrote off as a has-been became for several years the hottest act in American entertainment and then an institution.
What did I learn from Kenny Rogers? A lot. Believe in yourself. Never give up. And, don't let the opinions of others define you--especially those of some idiot seat-filler who was too young to see that it ain't over 'til it's over.
So, Anne and I arrived and took front-row seats for the second half of the show. First Edition, by then known as Kenny Rogers and The First Edition, offered an eclectic selection of songs. Their act was about as far away from the Rolling Stones it could get and still remain under the rock umbrella. Not particularly cool. Neither was I, although I tried not to draw attention to that fact.
I remember Kenny Rogers, the lead singer, looming over us in our front row seats. In my memory, he was dressed much like a groomsman at a 1970s wedding, sans tie and perhaps a few ruffles. Or perhaps the groom. I think the suit was white. I assume I liked the performance. The band had a few big hits in its past. Truth is, I don't remember much. What I do remember is what happened after the show.
Liz wanted to meet Kenny and somehow Liz, Anne and I ended up walking out of the theater with Kenny, a woman I assumed was a business contact, a kid whom I thought was a reporter and the opening act Pat Paulsen who at that point had probably been, based on his recurring role on The Smothers Comedy Hour and a high-profile, tongue-in-cheek run for president in 1968, a hotter show biz commodity than First Edition had ever been. But, in 1974, like Kenny's, his star had dimmed a bit.
I wasn't comfortable playing the fan role. So, I didn't have much to say but I did get to observe what a genuinely nice man Kenny Rogers was. Liz was excited and kept the conversation going and the mood was all very relaxed and pleasant. (Although at one point a circle formed and Pat Paulsen and I found ourselves excluded from the group. I won't bore you with the details but I will say that we made each other laugh--and yes I played an active role and made him chuckle if not guffaw.) The group spoke for five, maybe ten minutes at the most, and then broke up.
As I watched Kenny and his manager walk towards the motel across the parking lot, I remember thinking that is one of the saddest things I've ever seen. The year was 1974. Sometime that year Kenny decided to go solo. I can't trace his career but I can tell you that within a few years, and for the rest of his life, I would not have been able to get within one hundred yards of Kenny Rogers. He became huge. I cannot emphasize huge enough. The man I pitied, the man I wrote off as a has-been became for several years the hottest act in American entertainment and then an institution.
What did I learn from Kenny Rogers? A lot. Believe in yourself. Never give up. And, don't let the opinions of others define you--especially those of some idiot seat-filler who was too young to see that it ain't over 'til it's over.
UPDATE: After many failed attempts, I finally did a successful Internet search and located Liz Berry. It turned out that she had a naval career and apparently one son, whom I suspected might have been adopted. I am not sure if she ever married. I was devastated to learn that she had died young. I forget now whether it was in her fifties or sixties. From the donation request, I think it might have died of brain cancer. I had not seen her in decades but her death hit me like a punch to the stomach. She was a force of nature. I hope she got what she wanted out of life.
