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Adrianna “My
daughter’s missing and I think you know where she is,” the angry
Father said shaking his finger an inch from Stan’s terrified face. “I
have no idea where your daughter is,” replied a perplexed Stan,
“I don’t even know your daughter.” “Sure
you do. She was making goo-goo eyes at one of your trombone players tonight.
You even said something to him when he left the stage.” “The
only thing I said to him was to stop punching his quarter notes so much. It
made the section sound disjointed.” “Bullshit!
Listen you long-legged drink-of-water, you’d better find him before we
do,” the angry Father replied as he motioned toward the two hulking
gorillas who were standing off to one side, “because if I find out
he’s with my daughter I’m going to remove his
manhood.” “Why
do you think she’s with him?” asked a worried Stan. “Because
Bruno here followed her to the ladies room and saw her slip your boy a piece
of paper when she thought Bruno wasn’t looking. My man misses nothing!” “How
long has she been missing?” “She
slipped away about two hours ago.” “I'll
call his room,” Stan said, reaching for the telephone and attempting to
be helpful. We
all held our breath hoping beyond hope that Clayton would answer. After letting
it ring 10 times Stan put the telephone back on its receiver. “I guess
he’s still out with some of the guys,” said Stan, trying to be
helpful. “My
ass, he’s with the guys! He’s with Adrianna and when we find them
we’re going to turn him into a girl and use his balls to make him a
pair of breasts!” “We’ll
do our best to locate him,” Stan said, making a valiant attempt to calm
the irate Father down, “but, I’m sure he’s not with
Adrianna.” “Says
you. Just so you’re aware ‘Mister Music Man’ I own 50% of
that club you’re working in across the street and if I don’t find
my daughter within the next hour I’m going to own 100% of you! Get my
drift.” “C’mon
guys, let’s do it,” Stan motioned to everyone as he walked over
to the door holding it open for Adrianna’s infuriated Father and his
two gunzels. Once
the three men reached the end of the hallway, Stan waited a few moments to
make certain they were out of hearing range. “God dammit, I told
Clayton to stay away from her. I could tell she was trouble.” “Wait
a minute, Stan,” Willie Taylor said motioning toward the window,
“maybe he stopped to get something to eat before turning in.” “No,
I think he’s with that chick. God help us all if he’s doing
something with her he shouldn’t be doing.” “Like
what Stan? Screwing her? And in whose bed?” Bob Fitzpatrick asked
sagely. “He’s not in his room. She’s not at home. So where
do you suppose this torrid love fest is taking place? Let’s all calm
down and think it through. I’m all for going downstairs and getting
some coffee. I think this is going to be a long night.” We
trooped off to the elevator in silence. Everyone was lost in thought as to
how or where we were going to find Clayton and Adrianna in a city the size of
Unaware
he was on Adrianna’s Father’s hit list, and unaware we were
concerned about finding him, Clayton held out the 'New York Times' to Stan. “Stan,
you’ve got to read John Wilson’s review of the Band. It's
dynamite! He said we were so great we moved one of ' Stan
was the first to break the silence as he thundered, “Clayton where the
hell have you been? I called your room and no one answered.” Clayton
looked at him in bewilderment. Called his room? For what? To tuck him in? To
say good night? Sure, he was aware Stan liked to play the role of surrogate
Father, but he never knew him to take roll call and make sure everyone was in
bed. What the hell was going on? “I
was out getting something to eat. Then I walked over to that all-night news
stand on “You
weren’t with Adrianna?” “No!
What made you think I was with Adrianna?”
Stan
was amazed at Clayton’s lack of concern over an irate father and two
gunzels who, at this very moment were roaming the City looking for him. “Christ,
I don’t believe this. Are you aware one of his bodyguards saw Adrianna
slip you a note?” “Oh,
that! She wanted to let me know she was planning to spend last night with
Mother over at her new apartment on “Here,”
he said innocently, reaching into his pocket. “Our parents separated
last month and sometimes Abdrianna stays there with Mother . . .” “Whoa,
wait a minute,” Stan looked at him thoroughly perplexed. “Your
Mother’s place? That must mean you and Adrianna are . . .” “Brother
and sister. She’s my youngest sister.” “Then
Michael’s your . . . “My
Father? Yes, Michael’s my Father!” “Why
didn’t you say something last night when I was reading you the riot act
about getting too chummy with Adrianna?” “Why?
I guess I didn’t want you to know Michael Fucci is my Father. The day I
left for college he and I had a terrible argument about my desire to become a
professional musician. He wanted me to go to law school or into medicine,
like my oldest sister, Tanya, who’s a pediatrician. He said musicians
were drug-crazed bums and no son of his was going down that sordid road and
bring shame to the family name. "I
told him he needn’t worry about his precious family name since I
planned on using my Mother’s maiden name, which is 'Cahoon'. "That
really threw him into a tizzy. He wanted to know why I thought our name
wasn't good enough for me to continue using. Sometimes he doesn't make a
whole lot of sense. "I
told him 'Fucci' was too ethenic sounding and that 'Cahoon' sounded much more
sophisticated. More in keeping with the 'glamorous life' I intended to lead
when I got to "I
knew I was baiting him, and I knew he probably would get very upset at my
disobedience, but I was really angry at him for trying to run my life.
Unfortunately he let me know I was no longer welcome in his house and that as
far as he was concerned he no longer had a son.' “I’ll
be damned,' Stan said, shaking his head. 'So that’s why your Father
didn’t tip his hand and let us know you and he were related?” “My
Father is very Italian. Very obstinate. Very family-oriented. For me to stop
using the name I was born with was a terrible blow to his ego. We
haven’t spoken in over four years.” “Then
what was he doing in the Club last night? I know he owns it, but why show-up
with Adrianna.” Clayton
laughed. “You don’t know my sister. Very head strong. Very
independent. Just like our Father. She told him if he didn’t take her,
she would go by herself. And she would have. What’s more, she told him
she would leave him and move in with Mother. That scared the hell out of him
because he is devoted to her. She’s his little princess.” “Don’t
you think you’d better call him and let him know where Adrianna
is?” “Oh,
I think he knows damn well where my sister is. He’s afraid to call
because he knows my Mother will hang him out to dry because of the asinine
way he’s been acting lately. He likes to give the impression he’s
some big, bad Mafioso, when in reality he’s not such a bad guy. I think
he’s seen too many gangster films. Would it surprise you to know
he’s a Harvard-trained lawyer?” “Damn,
and to think I thought he was head of one of Clayton
also began laughing, “The only family he’s head of is our's.
Sure, he does business with a lot of unsavory characters, but, no, he’s
no Mafia don. Although at times I think his role playing gets a bit out of
hand.” “Who’s
Bruno and that other gorilla he was with?” “My
cousins. They work for him in the family rental linen business. He’s
also owns several restaurants and clubs he took over when they were on the
verge of bankruptcy. He figured it was the only way he could recoup the money
he was owed. All very legitimate and very much on the up and up.” “Clayton,
I think you’d better call him before he shows up again. Good guy or
not, he scares the shit out of me. He was pretty upset about Adrianna taking
off like that in the middle of the night.” Clayton
rose and began gathering up his newspapers, “I’ll call as soon as
I get upstairs.” “Do
you know how to reach him?” Stan said, totally mystified by the strange
turn the night had suddenly taken. “Of
course, all I have to do is beep Bruno. Mother insisted I take his pager
number in case I needed anything while at school. Michael will probably
have a coronary when Bruno tells him I called. Especially when he finds out
the family is united in a conspiracy to bring us back together.” Before
stepping into the elevator he turned to Stan, “Adrianna’s going
to insist he take her back to the Club tonight. It’s his birthday and
she and Tanya have planned a little surprise for him.” “Tell
Adrianna we’ll add to her surprise by playing ‘Happy
Birthday.’ “She’ll
appreciate that. I’m sorry if we caused you any grief.” “Forget
it. Go. Call Bruno!” That
night Michael, Adrianna and Tanya were, as Clayton predicted, sitting at a
table directly in front of the bandstand. Adrianna, like the previous night,
greeted Clayton by wiggling her fingers and throwing him a dazzling smile.
Michael, still scowling like some character he was trying to emulate from
Martin Scorsese’s film, 'Good Fellas', avoided making eye contact with
Clayton and kept glancing around the room waiting expectantly for someone
else to arrive. He looked over at Bruno and his brother, who were standing by
the front door and shrugged his shoulders in a questioning gesture. Bruno
shook his head, at the same time mouthing 'No!', turned, grabbed his brother
and went outside to wait. After
getting the room settled with several classic Kenton charts, Stan stepped to
the microphone and announced there was a special guest in the room who was
celebrating his birthday with his family and that the Band, featuring his son
on trombone, had prepared a special surprise for him. Throwing Michael a huge
smile, Stan gave the downbeat to 'Happy Birthday' as Clayton’s section
stood and directed their horns in his direction. Then,
from somewhere from the darkened recesses of the Club, Clayton’s Mother
appeared and slipped quietly into the vacant seat beside Michael and gave him
a light kiss on the cheek. It was obvious to all that he was genuinely moved
by all the attention the Band and his family was bestowing upon him. Then,
just as the trumpets put the finishing touches to 'Happy Birthday' with
several high altitude blasts Stan pointed to Michael and asked him to rise,
introducing him and the rest of his family. No
one, especially Clayton was prepared for what happened next. Michael moved
away from his seat and walked over to the bandstand. He leaned through the
saxophone section and clasped Clayton around the shoulders, giving him an
affectionate hug which damn near put a dent in his son’s instrument. He
then turned toward his table and broke into a huge smile as Adrianna and
Tanya raised their thumbs in a salute. Before returning to his seat he
grasped Stan’s hand and gave it a vigorous shake. Later,
during intermission, Michael sought Stan out and apologized for his
unacceptable behavior the previous night. He said he hoped Stan understood
that Adrianna’s sudden disappearance had greatly concerned him, along
with the added surprise of seeing his son for the first time in four years
sitting in Kenton’s trombone section. One shock after another. Stan
told him he was happy that things had worked out so well. Six
months later, Clayton left the Band and entered Princess
or no princess, she had no intention of living her life with two scowling
bodyguards scaring away potential boy friends. Michael and Clayton’s
Mother were still separated, but she had no intention of filing for divorce,
since she spent more time at Michael’s penthouse, then in her own
apartment. Dr.
Tanya keeps her Father forever on edge by gleefully threatening to sign him
into a psychiatric unit if he doesn’t stop trying to control everyone’s
life. Whenever she admonishes him for his behavior he defends himself by
swooping her up into his arms and roaring for all the world to hear,
“I’m your Father. I’m Italian. What do you expect? It is
the destiny of every Italian Father to take care of his family, especially
his girls.” “Yes,
daddy,” but it is not your destiny to smother us so we can’t
breathe,” Tanya would always reply giving him an affectionate hug and
kiss. Being
the oldest and wisest child, Tanya knew it was fruitless to argue with him.
What would be, would be. There was never a moment’s doubt as to who was
in charge of the family. She was just happy that the family was back together
again. A
week later, in a generous gesture of appreciation for the business we had
brought his way during our 3-week stay at 'Basin Street East' he wrote out a
check for $10,000 and sent it to Stan’s office in California. No
advanced warning. No fanfare Just the check and a hand written note that
said, “I am indebted to you for bringing my family together. With the
utmost respect, admiration and affection, I remain Michael Fucci.” The
routine of playing three sets a night (the great Canadian pianist, Oscar
Peterson and vocalist Chris Connor alternated between sets) quickly settled
into predictable monotony. Spending every night in the same hotel room and
not waking up at 4 in the morning and wondering where you were - a harrowing
phenomena associated with traveling 10-months a year - was a pleasant
dividend. Once everyone had an opportunity to catch-up on their sleep, call
home, write a few letters and handle a half dozen other mundane chores, the
reality of staying three weeks in a city as expensive as New York took its
toll. By the end of the first week buoyant moods turned sour at the high cost
of food, liquor, laundry and dry cleaning. Even
such simple pleasures as taking in a movie, visiting a zoo, or strolling
through an art museum, all relatively inexpensive ways to while away an
afternoon on the Road, were hardly affordable in mid-town Manhattan. Movie
tickets were double what they cost in Being
a resourceful group, the guys began purchasing a variety of foods
at a nearby supermarket and prepared breakfast and lunch in their rooms. Two
of the saxophone players located a liquor super-mart out in After
a bit of arm-twisting the Queen's liquor mart agreed to deliver free to the
hotel if the guys ordered three cases at a time. No problem for the Kenton
Band, which reveled in its well-deserved reputation as world-class drinkers.
We ordered so much booze every Monday, Wednesday and Friday they sent out a
salesman to determine if we were running an illegal bar from one of the
rooms. Satisfied we were the only one's doing the consuming our newest Kenton
fan threw in two free bottles of Popov vodka, along with two cases of
Heiniken's beer when the truck made its Friday deliveries.
On
the day of the wedding the guys discovered to their great joy the guest list
included plenty of One
of the Band members who had allowed his wife to talk him into letting her
come East lamented his decision many times over as he watched the hotel we
were staying at, the Belmont Plaza, turn into an ever-revolving smorgasbord
of fun, frivolity and sex. Every day, dozens of beautiful women were seen
strolling through the lobby arm-in-arm with the guys. It
wasn’t until the Band left town that the girls became aware of the
contest they had unwittingly become participants in. Each one of the
Orchestra’s sections kept a score sheet as to how many women the
section members could bed down each night and with what frequency. The
trumpet section, thanks to its lusty, over-the-top section leader, won. But
only by the slightest of margins. Since many of the dates we did in the East
were located within a hundred miles of each other the girls were able to join
us throughout the summer, continuing the odyssey of unrestrained joy
begun earlier at the hotel. 1961
truly became a year to remember. It
also, unfortunately, left behind in its wake a number of fractured hearts.
And broken marriages. |
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