ANY
BAND WITH A NAME like that had to be the real thing. That was all Terry/Richie
needed -- a real band to back him up so he could sing live at the sock hop
to his adult radio audience. And so the usual deal was struck -- we would
get no money, all the beer we could drink and free advertising for an hour
each night on KSFO to Terry's growing fan base. All we had to do was wear
matching blue coats and be the Blue Flames for a set backing up Terry McGovern
and follow that with our own set. The pay off was nightly publicity for the
rest of that summer. Every weeknight for an hour during KSFO drive time the
name Butch Whacks & the Glass was blasted throughout Northern California.
![Gary Murphy](images_history/chapter_2/gary_news_fly_crop_thum.jpg)
Due to graduation casualties, we added a new Glass Pack for the Richie &
the Blue Flames show -- Butch's younger brother -- Gary Murphy. Being in a
band was the farthest thing from Gary's mind when the searchlight flashed
the Glass Packs' logo in the sky. Gary, who hadn't seen as much of his older
brother since he went away to college, had found new interests, serious interests,
and had just returned from a volunteer eco-mission with the Sierra club pulling
tires out of the Bay when the call to arms came; a call that went something
like this -- "Hey I started this band called Butch Whacks & the Glass
Packs and, guess what? You're in it. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon in Foster
City. We're playing at a shopping center on the back of a flat bed truck.
Bring my Block M sweater, its in my closet, and a pair of jeans. You can't
miss us."
Loyal to the bone, Gary showed up with trepidation, a bag of jokes, a floppy
hat of Dennis Wilson hair, and for the next five years hit the low end "Surfin'
Ba Dit di dit di dits" in tune every time. Fast forward thirty years.
The former executive producer of Night Court, and currently executive producer
of Malcolm in the Middle,
Gary Murphy aka Conway Twit, has written the gags for each of our 18 Annual
Farewell Performances (see
video page -- Lucky Strike Singers) and still finds the time every summer
to "tell the teacher were surfin' ".
Meanwhile, no fools we, the Glass Packs had figured a way to make $60.00 a
night more often and spent the next school year fine tuning our chops at Bay
Area high school dances and local college concerts. One such show took us
to arch-rival Santa Clara University where smart aleck stage patter led to
classic breath mint-candy mint dialogue until a fight broke out, the stage
was pelted with beer bottles and Julio and friends dove from the stage headfirst
into the fray to defend their mothers. With the house lights on, girls screaming,
fists flying, Julio swinging around on the back of some behemoth, the musicians
played "Rock Around the Clock" until the power was shut off by security.
Later
that night, while Julio was icing his swollen head, Laz was in serious negotiations
with a foreign exchange student,
one Arturo Castillas, son of the owner of the only capitalist brewery in all
of communist Guatemala. Arturo thought Butch Whacks y los Glass Packs would
be a perfect act to entertain the Café Society of Guatemala City, and
so did we. Vows were exchanged and a trip to Central America was in the works.
Sure Laz, we're going to Guatemala. The Mighty Quinn will actually surf before
we go to Guatemala.
But first, the night life. Who says it ain't no good life? We had a blast
in the Summer of '72 after graduation playing twice a week on Union Street
in San Francisco and every weekend in Los Altos; a whole new world - older
people who actually remembered our music, cocktail waitresses, the young adult
singles scene. Quickly, the word of Butch Whacks & the Glass Packs' doing
"I Get Around" at warp speed traveled around town like a fat man
running down hill; and in no time, the Fire Marshall and the Musician's Union
were screaming at the management about crowd control and a piece of the action,
respectively. We turned the Mother Lode, and later the Coalyard, on Union
Street into our own Peppermint Lounge, took the door and a cut of the bar,
and made a cool $60.00 a night -- each.
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