Hometown:
San Francisco/Fresno/San Francisco

When did you begin seriously listening to Top 40 radio?
Probably at the age of five or six. No, sooner than that. My Auntie Mary used to baby sit us when we (Jerry and I) were tiny and she used to watch American Bandstand. I also have a clear memory of being six or so and vacationing at my Grandparents' house and being allowed to leave the radio on all the time. We'd listen to "Somewhere Beyond the Sea" and "Mule Skinner Blues". I also remember "Honeycomb" being played alot, as well as "Corina Corina". Bobby Darin, Elvis, Johnny Horton, Doris Day, Perry Como, the McGuire sisters, Mr. Aker Bilk... It was wonderfully eclectic.

What station and where?
Well, in San Francisco I remember KEWB, or KFWB? I can't remember if the other station was KYA or KFRC. In Fresno it was KMAKE or KYNO. KYNO was the most popular station. The big DJ was Sam Schwann. But he seemed ancient and out of it to me. Jerry and I were renegades and we liked the A.M. alternative: KMAKE. They used to publish their KMAKERS Dozen (a top thirteen list--these guys were wild)and then they included information on every song on their play list. We used to ride our bicycles for miles to get these when they came out every week. We still have a collection of them from the early and mid-sixties. We listened to KMAKE and poured over their weekly publication like some people study the Torah. A few years ago a writer friend of mine called me to find out who sang the original "Mockingbird". I knew in an instant that it was Charlie and Inez Foxx. It even stunned me until I remembered the hundreds of boy hours spent lying on my bed reading the KMAKERS Dozen.

For better or worse, earliest songs etched in your memory?
The answer would probably be different if I thought about this tomorrow, but at the moment: "Singing the Blues" by Guy Mitchell. I just looked it up in "Rock On" (I own volume one and two. The only titles I have in my collection by Mr. Norm N. Nite. I have spent an enormous amount of time since we've started these reunion shows, going through these books reading bios, trying to find a sketch idea, or pouring over the song titles in the back trying to come up with a joke for the talent show. It kills me. Last year we got a huge laugh on "Vice-President Dick Cheney will be out here to sing "Baby, baby I Can't Hear My Heart Beat." And then that joke that took me so long to come up with can never be used again! But I digress...) "Rock On Volume One" tells me that it was released in 1956. Maybe I was listening to the radio at four. Other songs are: "Mission Bell" by Donny Brooks, "Only the Lonely" by Roy Orbison, "The Twelfth of Never" by Johnny Mathis, "The Green Door" by Jim Lowe, "Good Golly Miss Molly" by Little Richard, "Dreamin" by Johnny Burnette, "The Witch Doctor" by Alvin and the Chipmunks. By the way, getting back to the dedications, I also loved "O.J. Simpson will be out here to sing: 'It's Too Late To Turn Black Now' and the one we did when Mike Tyson was in prison for rape: "Mike Tyson will be out here to sing: "Release Me And Let Me Love Again". These aren't easy to come up with folks. Having to come up with them again for the june show, I just wanted a few of my favorites to live a little longer on the website. Oh, I almost forgot an important early song: "Apple Pink and Cherry Blossom White". It reminds me of when we first moved to Fresno and we went to this godawful public pool on Blackstone Ave. I felt like I was in exlie. Napoleon in a redneck Elba. I was six and I remember just standing in a shady corner, feeling depressed, watching people who felt good about being in Fresno have fun in this giant, probably pee-filled pool. There was a juke box on the other side of the pool that kept playing that song. I would feel vaguely ill at ease for years whenever I heard the song. Now, of course, my feelings about it have changed because it means that Jose and Rene are about to join us.

If stranded in the jungle, ten songs you would take:
This is an impossible question to answer and yet ironically, "It's Impossible" isn't one of my choices. In no particular order: "What's So Funny About Peace Love and Understanding?" by Elvis Costello. "Somewhere Across the Sea" by Bobby Darin. "I'm Into Something Good" by Herman's Hermits. It was written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin. I was in sixth or seventh grade when it came out and it's just the perfect adolescent love song. The energy and drive of the musical intro perfectly captures for me the excitement of being twelve and finding out that the girl you like likes you. You can't say that about "Mule Skinner Blues". "Please Please Me" by the Beatles. I just read that they originally wrote it as a Roy Orbison dirge and George Martin came up with the ringing twelve string intro and told them to rework it as an up tempo number. That alone should qualify him for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. "Hard Days' Night" by the same group. Just about anything by Van Morrison but particularly his "Moondance" album (and yet I could go the rest of my life without hearing "Moondance".) I also love "Domino" and "Tupelo Honey" by Van. "It's A Shame" by the Spinners (written by Stevie Wonder) "What's Goin' On" by Marvin Gaye. "We've Gotta Get Out of this Place" by the Animals. The Beach Boys have been played to death but "I Get Around" is an incredible song. I went with my grandmother to buy it as a single and a bunch of teenagers were listening to some piece of drek by Rene and Rene. The store owner took off their record and put on the copy of "I Get Around" I was buying to make sure there weren't any skips. The teenagers groaned. In later years I've secretly mocked them wherever they are. My taste has withstood the test of time. However going to a record store with your grandmother has never been cool. So let's call it a draw. I also love "You Still Believe In Me" by Brian Wilson (although the group was credited). "Just Like Romeo and Juliet" (I'm going to have to look up who it's by) Maybe because it's never played, but it's a great mid-sixties pop song.

First few records owned and why:
This one is always embarrassing for me. It's "Johnny Jingo" by Hailey Mills. In my defense, a relative bought it for me. That's probably also why I owned "Hound Dog Man" by Fabian. I can't so easily explain away using my own money to buy "Windy" by the Association. On the plus side, I was the first in my neighborhood to own "Meet The Beatles". I was about to make my Confirmation and my mom went to a record store to get me a gift and asked a clerk what she should get. He handed her "Meet the Beatles" and said that these guys are going to be huge. So I had it a week of more before anyone else I knew. So, the night they were on Ed Sullivan, as eveyone succumbed to Beatlemania, I watched with the calm confidence of one who's already indoctrinated into the club.

One Song, a Hit the first time you heard it and why:
"A Hard Days Night". From the first chord on George's twelve string guitar you know that you are going to be taken on a thrilling ride and the Beatles didn't disappoint. The strum was followed immediately by John's the furious energy of John's verses interrupted only by McCartney's melodic bridge. I saw the reissued version of the movie a year and a half ago and it still made the hair stand up on the back of my neck (one of the few areas it continues to grow with some profusion).

First trace of show business in your blood:
Singing "Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley" for relatives. I was five and Jerry seven. It must've seemed a little odd for two little boys to be singing in the first person about stabbing their girlfriend and that by this time tomorrow they'd be hanging from a big oak tree. I don't think we harmonized then. I'm not sure we do now.

First performance in front of a captive audience:
That would probably be singing "Red Red Robin" with my father. We each had our song and that was mine. Actually I was never better and I'm still trying to work it into the show. As far as an acting first, it would be my appearance on "Romper Room" when I was five. I still vividly remember sitting at a table with Miss Nancy and four or five bit players who were also my age. There were glasses in front of us and maybe cookies. There was also a humongous glass bottle of milk. Miss Nancy asked me if I got to pour milk at home. I didn't but I was on tv so to make myself seem more interesting I said, "yes, I do." I never saw the next moment coming. She said, "Well, Gary, why don't you pour milk for all of us." I was stunned. I slowly stood up, grabbed the bottle and was a little surprised I could even pick it up. I knew I had one chance, just aim it for the glass and let's see what happens. Expecting disaster, I just tipped the bottle and the milk magically poured into a glass. After the first one, the bottle weighed less, I poured milk in all the glasses, put the bottle down and returned to my seat, assured for the rest of my life that, yes, I'm the kinda guy who knows how to pour milk.

Between the ages of 6 and 16 what was your favorite radio station:
I think I already answered this. But I'm reminded that in the '66 and '67, we listened to XERB. It was, we were told, a pirate radio station out of Mexico. The FCC would never allow it. The D.J. was Wolfman Jack, long before his "Midnight Special" days. It was a very rough edged show, and the Wolfman actually seemed drunk or on something. He'd howl at the moon and just yell at callers who would call to talk about their love lives. Caller: "Hello, Wolfman? My girl is..." Wolfman:"Hello? Hello?" Caller:"Yeah, I'm here, so I was saying, my girl..." Wolfman: (a long wolf howl) Caller:"Wolfman?" Wolfman:"Tell me, baby, does your boogaloo float in the tub?" Caller:"What?" Wolfman:"Bye!" Something like that. He used to play oldies which no one played in '67. If you only listened to XERB, you would have thought that "Angel Baby" had just been released.

Between the ages of 6 and 16 your average daily exposure to music?
Whenever possible. The big breakthrough was getting transistor radios with ear plugs so we could listen as we went to sleep.

Ulterior uses of music (this one's for Julio but if you can answer it too):
I'm with Bruce. I don't buy Julio's answer, either.

Name of first band?
Butch Whacks and the Glass Packs. What other band would have a sketch writer/actor?

Musical repertoire of first band?
If I remember correctly it was fifties oriented rock and roll.

Earliest musical influences and why:
Can you answer this if you don't play music? And I think I already answered this question, too: Hailey Mills and Fabian.

Between ages of 6 and 16 favorite comedians?
Ten years? There were too many. First and foremost, Bob Newhart. My Uncle Elmer had his "The Buttoned-Down Mind of Bob Newhart" album and we played it all the time whenever we visited him. Even the titles of the tracks were cool. One of them was "An Infinite Number of Monkeys." Newhart was one of two monitors in a room where an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters would write the collected works of William Shakespeare. Newhart's monitor says, "wait a minute, Charilie, I think number 17645 has something, "To be or not to be that is the mzyxrplx...never mind." I always enjoyed Alan King, who appeared constantly on the Ed Sullivan Show. I remember listening to Bill Cosby's "Why is There Air" constantly. I thought Jonathan Winters was great. And, of course, Woody Allen. His standup comedy was brilliantly funny. I always liked George Carlin even before his hippie days. His Indian staff sergeant before a raid ("there will be a rain dance tomorrow night, weather permitting")and his first mate on Columbus' voyage ("alright, there'll be a food eating contest monday at noon. First guy that finds any food, wins) I still remember that stuff fondly. We used to watch Jackie Gleason every saturday night...there are too many to count...the Hope and Crosby "Road" pictures, the Marx Brothers.

Punch line of earliest joke you can recall:
"Let me find my keys and I can drive us out of here."

Who or what influenced your sense of humor?
Oh, let's see. Probably early on, Warner Brothers' cartoons, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Mad magazine. Without a doubt, the biggest early influence was Mike Pontremoli. He was my next door neighbor in Fresno and was five years older than me. I've been writing comedy for a living for oh, about twenty-three years (not counting my band apprenticeship) and he is still one of the funniest people I've ever met. I used to just hang out on his porch when he folded papers for his paper route and laugh myself sick. My dream was to make Mike laugh which I did a few times. I remember Mike, who was probably taking junior high science at the time, retrieving a football in someone's huge rose garden and he called time out to perform photosynthesis. He dramatically, like a modern dance major, assumed this tree-like position while he smiled rapturously at the sun. The team we were playing thought it was pretty weird but I loved it. He was brilliantly improvisational and original and a huge influence on me. Also, Bob Sarlatte, aka the Big Fella. The Mike Pontremoli of my early adulthood. As funny as Bob is on stage, he's often funnier to hang out with. He was the standard I measured myself against as I tried to learn about comedy.

How did you first hear the name BWGP?
My brother Jerry called me and told me he'd started this band called Butch Whacks and the Glass Packs. He was very excited about it. I remember a story where he went to go see Bill Hailey play and went to meet him afterwards. Given a minute he probably could have phrased this better but he told Bill, we have a band and we're making your music famous.

When and why did you join BWGP?
The band had played at a St. Mary's function at the end of that school year and they started booking jobs at frats and sororities in Berkeley. Several members of the band went home for the summer so Jerry called me to fill in for them. One of the shows was for a Terry McGovern party. We also played on a flatbed truck at the San Mateo Fairgrounds. I sang "Marie's the Name of His Latest Flame". My parents went and my dad (from whom I get my sarcasm from) told my mom that in the future he would pay to stay home. Anyway, we just started getting gigs.

Earliest recollection of performing with BWGP?
My first gig with the band was at a frat in Berkeley in late May of '71. It was a classic frat party where they'd filled their backyard with sand and had a beach party. I knew none of the choreography and just added my voice to the wall of noise that was our sound. I remember a couple of people looking at me and pointing and I thought I must be seeming particularly amusing. I looked to my left and realized that the rest of the front guys had their backs to the stage and were doing some kind of choreography that I was being left out of. I also might have had a beer that night. My first big contribution to the band was the backflip in "At the Hop". At my first practice in Jerry's dorm room at SMC, Jerry was trying to flip Laz. They couldn't do it. So I volunteered and rolled right over Jerry's back. I think we were both more confident because we were used to him throwing me around.

Most desperate BWGP moment:
This is an easy one. When Bob tore his achilles tendon in the fall of '75 and couldn't perform for months. Jerry and Larry and I met and had to figure out how to keep going without the Big Fella who was the anchor to our entire show. Our main player and best comic performer was suddenly not there. I often look back at that time as a kind of litmus test in deciding whether something I'm going through is really all that terrible. Almost always the answer is no. In the fall of '75, I had no money in the bank and we somehow, (and I really don't know how we were willing to do this...I guess the answer is we were very young)survived week to week on what we made from the gigs we played. We were rarely booked more than a couple of weeks in advance, so I had no safety net. I did a Bing Crosby version of Father Duffy. Larry did the DJ bit. I was Dick Clark and we somehow did two fifty minute sets with about seven of us. I remember during his convalesence, Bob came to see us at Keystone in Berkeley. By then (I think I was in some form of denial)I remember thinking that Bob must be surprised at how good we were without him. Actually we weren't, but we did well and my own sense of what I was capable of quadrupled.

Most embarrassing moment performing with BWGP:
I'm sure there are many more than I even realize today. For starters, how about passing out while singing a Beach Boys song at the Mother Lode. I never drank much before that summer and we were offered free drinks all night. From what I've been told, Laz grabbed the mike and finished the song. Actually it's embarrassing pretty constantly to try and learn how to be funny on the stage night after night. If we let embarrassment be a barrier there would be no Butch Whacks. I'll take the blame for "They're Coming to Take Me Away" which Rob mentioned. I had a vague idea of parodying a song that was being played on the radio in '82, "Hooked on Classics" or something. I thought, oh, what about "Hooked on Garbage". And so I tried to knit together a medley of horrible pop songs and Craig (to my everlasting respect for him and disdain with myself) went out and performed it without bailing, or stopping and saying this isn't working. That instinct of Craig's to try something has lead to many great Butch Whacks moments. Larry mentioned our experiment with Black face which makes me cringe now. I think we were trying to find a new direction as the band was dying and so we wanted to shock people with what we were willing to do. I learned from "Hooked on Garbage" that being bad isn't entertaining and from Jolson that being shocking isn't necessarily the same thing as being funny. Jerry and I also used to do this Frosted Flakes commercial during the Dick Clark Show in the old days. It says alot to me about who I was in those days because every night I thought, "okay, I have to come up with something else here. I'm not doing this again." And I just wouldn't even think about it till the next night when I'd be doing the bit thinking, "okay, definitley tomorrow I have to come up with something better than this." Oh, and the Beach Boys' therapists sketch. At the time, if you read Rolling Stone or followed pop music you'd have known that Brian Wilson was under the spell of his therapist, Dr. Eugene Landy. In fact Eugene Landy sang on a Brian solo LP and took a writing credit on half the songs. Had our audience known that information the sketch might have worked. So the idea was that the Beach Boys' therapists were appearing on their particular patient's behalf, on the Dick Clark Show. So Mike, Rob and I had goatees, and pipes and discussed each of our patient's (I think there may have been a line about Carl being a bedwetter with Matricidal tendencies). The audience had no idea what we were talking about. Mercifully, after about three minutes, Dick would ask us if we were going to sing a song. Amazingly we did it every show that year.

Fondest recollection of BWGP:
I'd have to think about this one for months and even then I couldn't begin to catalogue them. The entire saga of Bill and Craig getting us to Guatemala. I would say that trip changed my life. I had been working for the summer (at the corner of Ocean Ave. and Junipero Serra. It's a bank now) in a gas station where customers got a free tank of gas if you forgot to ask them if they wanted their car vacuumed. The next week I was having lunch on the grounds of a luxury hotel in Antigua, the ancient Spanish capital (we were shown around the country by the children of the elite -- who were our age, not nine or ten like that sounded when I reread it) looking up at a volcano, while a marimba band played and I definitely, consciously thought, "if this is show business, count me in." Cross country trips with the band, it was often the Big Fella and me driving the night owl shift. Bruce winning the "between the sheets contest". As we drove at night on a trip playing colleges in Ohio and Michigan, we played the game where you mention a song title and follow it with "between the sheets". Bruce's winner was "Everybody Loves a Clown". It was so good we just stopped playing. Larry opening me up to the world of the Alqonquin Round Table, Robert Benchley, George S. Kaufmann, S.J. Perleman etc. I even found out from Larry that they paid people in L.A. to write comedy. A friend of his sent up a script. The first one I'd ever seen. I also have to thank Larry for teaching me about structuring jokes, sketches, screenplays, everything. He's been great at helping me find what is best in often half-formed ideas. Thanks, Larry. Other fond memories include: The first night Bob came out as "The Big Fella" at the Coalyard on Union Street. Seeing the sparkly coat, the spinning forty-fives, the Big Fella grin, I laughed every night for months. Doing "Bah Doon" on a night when the audience was really with us. Jerry and Larry and I trying to salvage the band's future (see above) and doing so. Nights at the "Mother Lode" and the "Sand Castle" in the summer of '72. John was just 19, and because we took the door receipts, he took the money and carded people. Several times that summer he turned people away (there was always someone from the club there)who were a year ahead of him at SI. Our first bad review. It was in Vancouver. This guy, Don Stanley, tore us apart, claiming we were graduates of the Three Stooges/Gene Kinisky (a wrestler)school of comedy. Ultimately packing the Cave (a Vancouver club that must've held seven hundred people or more)a year later after working our butts off on the show and getting great reviews year after year up there.

Finest sketches:
I'm the wrong guy to answer this one. I feel a great deal of affection toward any sketch that has actually worked. It's very hard to find ideas that really score. I love Jose and Rene, the Dogs, the Lettermen, Hamlet and Horatio, the Tree Tenors, The Big Fella Show, Dick Clark, the Country Show, Tell Laura, Elvis Camp, the Smokers, any of our lie detector sketches (Pete Rose, Ted Kennedy, Clinton), Neil Diamond, O.J. Jeopardy (Larry's great idea)...the list goes on.

Not so finest sketches:
I even have fond memories of sketches that don't work. Although Roy Head remains a mystery to me. I really laughed in rehersal and the audience didn't seem to get into it. I do have fond memories of the Beach Boys' therapists. The feeling of standing up there looking at the audience really trying to go with us but just not getting what we were doing really makes me smile when I think of it. We did a terrible Roseanne sketch. I can't even call it a sketch. It wasn't even an idea. It was an image of Bob dressed as Roseanne and I guess I hoped we'd find something on stage. We didn't. But there was a great moment. At one point, Bob hit me really hard right in the neck with a loaf of french bread. I mean hard. I saw that lightning flash, so I must've been close to passing out. It knocked me to my knees. But right before he hit me, I caught an image out of the corner of my eye of Bob in a page boy hair cut, with a scowl on his face, taking a cut with the french bread like Harmon Killebrew. Some combination of the image, the terribleness of the sketch and the pure violence of the moment just got to me and I couldn't stop laughing about it for days. I smile thinking of it now. We have done some dogs over the years, but if not for the dogs, we wouldn't have the ones that work.

Weirdest BWGP moment (on or of stage):
How much time do you have? An early one was when we played at Keystone Berkeley for the first time. I was an innocent young history major from St. Mary's suddenly hanging out in a dark, ultra hip rock club. I was looking for our dressing room and opened a door, a guy with long hair, I think one of Tower of Power's horn players (we were opening for them)had his face in a plate of some kind and was snorting. He looked up and stared at me. I looked at the white powder on the end of his nose and made the logical assumption that this wasn't our dressing room. Going to Guatemala alone was pretty weird. But while there was played at the Hotel Ritz-Continental (where we stayed--the best hotel in Guatemala city) and one night an ex-president of the country (a friend of Arturo Castillo's father--Arturo was a Santa Clara student and our host) got up on stage and danced. Also while there the power went out and we didn't speak spanish. We started striking poses (I think it may have been Laz's idea) including Washington Crossing the Delaware (now that I think of it I doubt they got the reference), the Last Supper etc. There may have been some crotch humor involved. We got bigger laughs doing that than we did with our show. I too remember the guy sticking his hands in the deep fryer in Canada. My memory though was coming off stage after my bit and seeing the ambulence crew taking the guy away and noticing Father Duffy and Raoul the King of Rock and Roll (Walt in a Glam-rock outfit of purple tights, silver boots, silver sparkly cape, a white wig and a helmet that had silver plastic pieces that curved down from his temples on each side, and five or six silver, glittery stars ontop of little silvery spokes that bounced as Raoul moved) among the concerned bystanders. the Raoul hat being worn by Tina Turner. It was interesting seeing her fantastic performance instincts. We had gone over very well that night and so she tapped into that by coming out for an encore wearing Raoul's headress. Walt had never made those stars shake like that. During the early nineties a guy who Laz kissed during "Love Potion" showed up backstage ready to punch him out. Red, the giant Marin Hell's Angels chapter president who would come to see us every tuesday at the Boathouse in Sausalito. He never smiled or said anything but the other Angel's would tell us, "Red loves you guys." Country Joe McDonald doing the "fish" cheer in 1975 for a bunch of luded out Santa Cruz teenagers. The time the Big Fella sign (an eight foot by eight foot neon sign (that, curiously, I never saw the Big Fella help lift himself)was turned on illuminating a darkened stage and three guys who I think were about to jump us. It was at the fabulous "Prime Time" in Rome, Georgia. I really think they were going to jump us in the dark, the enormously bright sign came on, they turned around, seemed embarrassed and left. Having beer cans thrown at us at Santa Clara, and pizza thrown at us in Boulder, Colorado. How about Bob inviting a guy to sing a number during the dance set at Bimbo's who had recently sold him a car. I'm not sure if the song at Bimbo's was part of the negotiation. I'm not sure it wasn't. The show we played at the Santa Clara fairgrounds when Davy Jones of the Monkees rode by on a tricycle for some reason or other and John Buick watched him ride off and turned to Bob and I and said, "he's through." Since we're talking about weird, how about Stan Grozina the owner of the Cave in Vancouver. No story. Just Stan himself. Okay, one story. John Buick and Perry Leonard (who did our lights) "stole" the sculpture that was hanging in the lobby of The Cave. They then returned it claiming they'd found it and a grateful Stan gave them a case of German wine. Don't worry, Stan deserved it.

How do you explain your role in BWGP the 19th Annual Farwell Performance to new friends or colleagues who have never heard of BWGP and didn't know you have a secret closet life?
I don't much. I live in L.A. so I don't think I get recognized as much as I might in San Francisco. A writer I hired to work on "Night Court" had seen us play with Boz Scaggs in Santa Cruz. A writer on "Malcolm" had seen us in San Francisco. So maybe more people from my world have seen us than I've realized. Last year some old friends who'd known about the band for a long time finally went to see us because friends of theirs from S.F. had seen us. I've never pushed friends to go. Somehow the idea that they'd have to fly up there and get hotels etc, just seemed like too much effort. However I have to remember that I've never seen the band. My friends loved the show and are going this year. They could not believe that I do this now or have ever done this. In fact another couple that I know is going this year and I heard from a mutual friend who sees us every year, "Anne Cronin cannot believe that you get on a stage and sing." That is only the half of it, Anne. Sometimes I feel like Anne. I can't believe that I do this, or that I have to do this (my feeling say, in the Fall). Then (and Jerry and Bob and I were talking about this recently) Spring comes and like a whooping crane suddenly deciding it would be a good idea to fly to Canada, I start getting the feeling that it's time to maybe start thinking of a sketch or two. Just in case I forget what the band means to me, I've had many friends over the years tell me how lucky I am to have something like this in my life. More often than not I agree. I would like to add that it isn't all as simple as maybe it's sounded in all of our collective memories. I think it's had an even deeper effect on all of our lives because it's been so complex an experience. Especially in the early years it was scary, and it sucked at times, and we were poor, and disappointed a lot and we fought and made up (I know this is a run-on sentence, but I just have this little tiny box to type in, and it's late so, I'm pressing on). The fact that it wasn't all fun and sweetness and light has served to deepen the experience. The fact that in the present it's difficult and filled with anxiety and tension makes me know the band is alive and not just an artifact we're ressurecting. Finally, I'd like to thank Jerry for that phone call in June of '71. It's been an amazing and life-changing experience (I discovered my love of comedy writing in the band) that wouldn't have happened without his organizational skills. He started the band and kept it going (the only Glasspack to make every performance) and in 1983, he convinced everyone to start these reunion shows. I know I wasn't the only one who thought he was out of his mind. My first reaction was, "let's remember why we broke up." Well, I'd forgotten how many fans we had and we sold out the Music Hall that first year. Jerry's crazy idea has let us keep our friendships alive and has been a wonderful reward for all of the hardships we suffered in the original band. I love these guys and gals.