Mayo Hall Talent Show Circa 1976 (The Red Speedo Incident)

 

A typical Mayo Party with Peter Hook, Francie Crawford and Me.

Recently a snippet from Tom Waits’ Nighthawks at the Diner played on my personal Apple Music station. Hearing Mr. Wait’s work through Phantom 309 jogged some cells in the old brain. My mind drifted back quite a few years to my time at MSU. 

Nighthawks was one of the first LPs I bought when I got to Michigan State in 1974. They didn’t have a copy at Wazoo Records across the street from Beggar’s Banquet, so I went down Grand River to State Discount and paid full price. Nighthawks was beat poetry backed by a jazz combo mixed with stand-up comedy and intense word play. The mix of it all fascinated me. Those two discs were listened to so many times that the needle wore through the grooves and turned the LPs into Slinkys.

Nighthawks would play a crucial role in my stage career as limited as it has been. When I was at MSU, and more specifically in Mayo Hall, we had an annual dorm talent show. One year a song on this LP became the basis for my performance. With Tom Waits leading the way how could I possibly go wrong?

The trail to the actual performance I gave was very twisted and tortured. My final act morphed from a couple of different ideas. The initial idea, and the one I still think reflected the zeitgeist of the time, was a street ensemble/chorus. The rough plan involved a group of untalented men standing around the stage beating trash cans. They would chant the core Anglo-Saxon profanity for sexual congress for a period of several minutes.

After I hatched this idea, word of the act spread through the dorm like wildfire. Everyone was talking about whether we would really follow through with it. The thought of 10 guys pounding university owned metal garbage cans and repeatedly chanting raw profanity actually happening reached and ultimately unnerved the dorm head. That this offense against civility might happen on a stage where earnest clear skinned girls sang Cat Steven’s Moonshadow shook the head Resident Assistant so much that Mr. Cadieux came to me personally. He asked me not to lead this ensemble. "Parents will be here. Do you understand?!!"

Leaving it up to my own moral compass; well, I would've followed through with the trashcan banging except the rest of my group wussied out. My idea was to perform like David Peel and the Lower East Side. Look him up on YouTube. His biggest hit was "The Pope Smokes Dope."

Left with time on the bill and a piano player who stuck with me I decided to do something. About two hours before the show I went back to my room and memorized the introductory rap to Waits’ "All My Friends Are Married." It is otherwise known as "Better Off Without A Wife." This Tom Waits classic has the immortal line, “I know a woman who's been married so many times she has rice marks on her face."

When the time came to perform I got up onstage and the piano player started playing. Joel had a way cool jazz style that I could work with. I had my finest Tom Waits driving cap on. One of the original group decided he wanted back in. Baaaad (Pronounced like the sheep noise - for legal reasons I can't explain the nickname's genesis here) Larry. Bad Larry sat on the back of the makeshift stage with his garbage can and a big piece of wood. He'd repeatedly bang on the garbage can in a rhythm determined by his direct personal connection to the cosmic rhythms. 

As Joel the piano player worked through the song I did the whole thing. I recited the rap trying to snarl and growl as Tom Waits would. I was aided and abetted in this by my cherished friend Jack Daniels. I moved on to the song and finished the entire wonderful ballad. I finished the song…but not without incident.

As I finished the last verse, the audience burst into laughter. Unsure of what was up I looked over my shoulder to see Bad Larry falling off the back of the stage. He ripped down the curtain (a couple of dorm bed sheets tied together) landing on an unsuspecting onlooker behind the stage. As the audience erupted in pandemonium I segued into the last chorus and on the spur of the moment began taking off my clothing. 

Off came my shirt and T-shirt which were promptly thrown into the audience. My shoes and socks followed next. Finally, I took my jeans off and swung them around my head. With some flourish I let them sail into the audience. Note to self: when throwing your clothes into an audience make sure you take your wallet out of your pants first. As I ran off the stage singing I'm better off without a wife, all I had on was a red Speedo. I know even then it wasn't a pretty sight.

I am not sure whether the dorm head thought this was better than the originally planned performance. We never spoke of it.

My pants were eventually returned to me by NPR’s own Don Gonyea. Bad Larry decided he needed some air so he set off for a drive. Bad Larry got arrested for drunk driving and spent the night in the Mason jail. Me I was okay.

I guess this is just a way of saying I've always had a soft spot for that LP and fond memories of dorm talent shows. 

Below are Mr. Waits' intro to and rendition of Better Off Without a Wife.