I'd had a vision on that last night that Savvy played. It happened after I'd already loaded my gear into the '77 Volare parked in the alley out in back of Savvy's Nightclub. It was about 3am on the morning of April 19th, 1985. I'd lingered in the shadows as the bar staff cleaned up. Rick Miller was in the small cubicle at the end of the front bar, counting the night's take. All the other guys from the band had gone. I'd stood in that spot two years earlier, on the night Ricky Lynn Gregg played his last gig with us, and wondered the same thing; "What am I going to do now?" 

The difference was that two years earlier I'd known that we'd just be taking a two month break before coming back without Ricky. But this time we weren't coming back. Our days of chasing record deals and partying for a living were over. There was a black haze clouding my mind as I shook off thoughts of what the next day would bring - and the day after that. As I stood there looking at that giant empty stage, the recently remodeled stage that we only got to play on for three nights, I realized that Savvy's Nightclub had literally been my world for the past six years. That thought took hold, and the vision began...

It was like a special effects segment created for the opening of a movie. I could suddenly see myself from above - as if I were having an out-of-body experience. I saw myself as a lone figure standing next to an empty stage, frozen in thought. But then the "camera" view in my mind pulled back - higher up - until I could see the rooftop of Savvy's. I'd been up there a few times over the years and knew what it looked like. My cousin, and bass player in the band - RJ - had thrown one of my sneakers up there once, and I had to find a way to climb up there to get it. 

The vision was in pause mode as I took in the mental image of looking down at Savvy's from about 20 feet above the building. Then the club got smaller as the "camera" went higher and higher. The view never changed - always looking straight down, with Savvy's Nightclub in the center of the picture. I was aware that I was having some kind of hallucination, but decided to just go with it. The view had gone from the building, to the block, to the neighborhood, and Savvy's was just a mere dot in the middle of the picture. Still pulling back to see the city, state, continent, planet, and the camera was still panning back, faster and faster with every moment. The scene had turned into a blur of lights rushing away as the Earth shrunk to the size of a pin head of light, and then it was swallowed up into the darkness.  Then the black haze lifted.

I blinked my eyes a few times and realized I'd been holding my breath. The vision had passed. I only had to think about it for a few seconds before the meaning, or what I would come to accept as the purpose of the vision, hit my frontal lobe in a rushing wave. I heard the explanation in my mind, as if a narrator were in a recording booth, out of sight, patched into my head. The vision had been to impress upon me that while Savvy's Nightclub may have appeared to have been my entire world, it was, in reality, only a tiny dot compared to what the rest of the world had to offer. Savvy's had seemed so significant only because I'd needed it to be. I had to let that go. I had to walk out the door with no regrets, and make my future happen. That's exactly what I did.

The vision was not drug induced. I can't explain it. It was a cosmic gift horse, and I'm not going to question it. I'd automatically had that chapter of my life put into perspective FOR me. Without that vision, there's no telling how long it might have taken me to move on.      

With Savvy out of the way, I was available to go full time with the corporate "mascot" gig, that had provided a good 2nd income since June of 1979. Suddenly, I was booked solid. It wasn't unlike being in a band, really. One day I might be performing for a handful of people in a local park, and the next I might be conducting the Symphony Orchestra at the Convention Center. I've danced with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders on the 50 yard line at Texas Stadium at half time, and rode in a parade sitting next to Miss America. I've thrown out first pitches at the Ballpark in Arlington, and flown in the cockpit of a Corporate jet as we hopped cities during TV appearances for the Labor Day Telethon. You name it and I've probably done it - with one caveat. My identity was concealed by the makeup and costume I wore. But I didn't care. Actually, I preferred it that way.

Rich Mauch, lead guitar player from the defunct Savvy band, was supposed to be looking for a job, but he wasn't looking very hard. He and I were still living with Jim Wise. I'd loaned him $400 during the period that Savvy was having a hard time, and was wondering if I would ever see it again. Jim eventually started to get concerned about Rich being able to pay rent, unless he started working soon. I'd been so busy with the mascot gig that I never got around to following up on the phone company job that Rhonda's dad had lined up for me. I heard that he got a little upset with me about that, but once I explained how things were going, he seemed to understand. 

 Linda Morgan contacted me to ask if I'd be interested in putting a band together with her. It sounded very interesting, but I wasn't sure if I would have time. She called again a few days later to say that Savvy's ex keyboard player, Dan Kostura, might be interested.  That didn't really sweeten the deal for me much. I'm sure it would've been a fun band, but I needed some time away from the music business. At least for a while. It just seemed like too much hassle to jump right back into that scene again so quickly.

Late one night, the phone rang. Jim and I were up watching TV. It was Dan wanting to know if he could stop by. Jim invited him over. A few minutes later, Dan showed up carrying a laundry basket full of dirty clothes. Jim opened the front door and Dan walked directly over to the washing machine and started doing his laundry. I looked over at Jim and he was looking at me. It wouldn't have seemed so odd if Dan had acknowledged the fact that he was going to be washing clothes while he visited. He closed the door to the washing machine and headed for the fridge. "Got a cold beer?" he asked. We didn't have to reply. He'd already popped one and was plopping onto the couch. We actually were just getting into a nice discussion about what he'd been up to, when the alarm went off on the washer. Dan stood up, stopping in mid-sentence, walked over to the washer, put the wet clothes in the basket, and headed for the door. He simply said, "Thanks for the beer." Then he was gone. Jim and I looked at each other for a few seconds without saying a word, and then we busted out laughing.

Yolanda called to say she was sorry for vanishing a year ago. She'd met a guy who'd asked her to marry him on their first date, and she did! She was calling to clear her conscience. I let her tell her entire bizarre story, and then when she was finished, I spoke up. "I'm sorry. Who did you say you are?" Good grief! 

I visited my old best friend, ex guitar player, and room mate - Ricky Lynn Gregg. He was living with Laurie at the house that had belonged to her parents. We jammed a little on an original song I'd written called, "Praying She Won't Come Home."  It was a corny country song, and Ricky put a really nice slide guitar part in it.  After recording for a while, he brought up the subject of doing a Savvy reunion. I was all for it as long as Ricky was going to participate. 

Dad was back in the hospital, hemorrhaging badly. At one point, he was heavily drugged during one of my late night visits to the hospital. He came to for a moment and looked me in the eye and said, "I think you're having an identity crisis." Then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. I couldn't help wondering if he hadn't been channeling God. Of course I was having an identity crisis, but having my dad come out of a drug induced coma just to point it out to me was very strange. I was just glad that he survived the ordeal and was back home again within days.

Rich started working at the club, doing odd jobs. The fact that he was working again was great. But the fact that he was giving our phone number and address out to everyone at the club was a big drag. I was having a hard enough time going to bed at a decent hour in order to be able to get up and work. Jim wasn't bothered so much by the people coming and going, since his bedroom was way in the other side of the house, and he slept like a rock. I was in hell. Rich was smoking in the house again too. I had a big talk with him about it. Our living arrangement was simply not going to work long term. Rich was still living the rock and roll night life. I had moved on. Our world's were colliding in a big way.

The preacher from the big Baptist Church up the road was making the rounds one day. I was working in the garage when he got to our house. He introduced himself and told me he was out spreading the good news about Jesus, and wanted to invite me to come to their church on Sunday. My brain locked up for a moment as the mental image of my dad popped into my mind. Ignoring his invitation, I asked the preacher if he would mind doing something for me. I told him my dad was very sick with cancer and I wondered if he would say a prayer for him. Right there. In the garage. The preacher flashed a look of annoyance, as if I'd asked him for money. That look would tell me everything I needed to know about his church up the street. He looked around a bit uncomfortably, but then almost begrudgingly bowed his head and said a prayer. I was comforted by the fact that a preacher from a big church had just said a special prayer for my dad, but at the same time I doubted that this man's attitude was going to get any streets named after him in Heaven. The preacher made a hasty departure, almost as if I'd just asked him to paint my house, or wax my car.

The next day, a very nice man named Ken Jewel stopped by from the church. He was with the youth ministry there and just wanted to introduce himself. I invited him in and we had a good talk. I was much more impressed with him than I had been with his preacher, and I decided to drop by and check out the church the following Sunday. The people were great, but I couldn't get past that creepy encounter with the preacher in my garage that day. It was like going for a ride in a plane piloted by someone who creeps you out. Besides my ill feelings for the preacher, my hours were still turned around after all those years of working nights, and I cherished sleeping in on Sundays. 

I saw drummer Danny Cochran at Wyatt's Cafeteria on Lancaster. My brother Ray bought a truck. My girlfriend Rhonda was sick for a week and I nursed her back to health. Dad told the family that he had decided to try a new experimental treatment for prostate cancer. It required having some kind of Uranium charged pins implanted around the cancerous area. Dad's brother, Kenny, and his wife Sally came down from Denver and stayed with mom and dad for a week. Uncle Kenny was really into flying radio controlled planes, so he and dad had a great time together. Dad and Kenny helped me repair the brake line on the Volare' while he was in town. For Father's Day, my brothers and I bought a new VCR for dad. 

I did a "mascot" gig at Waterworld in Midland-Odessa. It was a cold, rainy day and nobody showed up. It was a wasted trip. On the way back the flight was delayed because of the weather. A company rep named Raul accompanied me to Midland-Odessa. He talked a lot about the "mascot" program, and his vision for the future of it. Raul seemed as if he were going to be a friend to the program. 

I returned home to find the rumor mill churning out stories about Savvy getting back together for a few reunion shows. The word had gotten out that Ricky and I had been talking about some possible shows, but at the last minute, Ricky had to pull out. The rest of the band was interested, but it would have to be without Ricky. Meanwhile, Rich had a birthday, which meant a big birthday party at the house. I stayed a while, then went over and spent the night at Rhonda's so I could get some rest.

There was a lot going on in the world, and I'd found myself paying more attention to the news than ever before. Some news, like the TWA Flight 847 which was hijacked from Athens by terrorists, with 135 Americans on board, was in the headlines every day. Other news was being made, but we wouldn't find out about it for years to come. An example of this was the real story behind the Senate authorizing nonmilitary aid to the Contras on June 6th. Ronald Reagan was making news every day. On June 18th he vowed in a press conference that the U.S. will never give in to terrorist's demands. By June 30th, the hostages from the TWA hijacking were freed after 17 days in captivity. And then, the world would hold its breath as Russia's Premiere Gorbachev agrees to meet at a summit with Reagan, to discuss cutting back on the nuclear warheads from both sides.

There was a big jam at Savvy's. We called it the Rock Orchestra. It consisted of all the following musicians on stage at the same time; Ricky Lynn Gregg, Rich Mauch, RJ Jones, Rick Miller, LD Lumpkin, Greg Schmidt, Joel Parks, Donnie Hyles, Mark Eman, Bubba and Billie Jack Marney, Bobby Albin, and I.  It was basically Savvy, the Ricky Lynn Project, and friends. The only standout absentee was Dan Kostura. 

The hostage crisis was finally over, but tragedy was about to strike close to home. Dad's cancer was spreading. He had another operation to remove the lymph nodes and have the special pins implanted. The lymph nodes turned out to be malignant. I'd come to feel at home in the family waiting room at Harris Hospital. I'd also become used to getting bad news from the doctors. It didn't make it any easier though. Bad news was bad news, no matter how often it came along. The family came together in a way that we never had before. We would be there for dad every step of the way as he hunkered down for the fight of his life. 

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