Monday... Monday

When I moved away for the summer to work for Six Flags over Georgia I bought a music player that used tiny cartridges, much smaller than the 8 track tapes that were in most everyone's car. These mini-cartridges were about the size of a small floppy disk as I remember and each cartridge was only an album long.  After buying the player I didn't have enough money for very many album/cartridges.  I think I bought two with me to Georgia.  By the time I got back from Georgia the entire thing was obsolete.  They no longer sold the small cartridges and the 8 tracks were also on the way out. 

One of the only albums I owned was the Mamas and the Papas, which had Monday, Monday and California Dreamin' on it. At the time I did not know that I would someday be a resident of California and California Dreamin' would take on a whole new meaning in my life.  Back then, Monday.. Monday was my anthem.  Not just because it was one of the few songs I could listen to on my little machine, I liked what it said.  Rarely can I think of this day of the week without some part of that song repeating itself in my mind.  

I write this because I am contemplating my Blog this Monday. I took some heat from agents, promoters and producers for some of the things I wrote about the venues on the first leg of the Truck tour.  What got back to me was a couple of promoter/buyers saying, "We hear Jay likes to talk about the venues on his blog." That is true, I do like to share my experiences.  Anyone who has checked into this blog over the years knows that most of my recollections are Valentines to the audience and theatre, or things that struck me funny about being on the road.  I have never had a venue say thanks for saying nice things, but one of the few times I talk about a sound guy with an attitude, suddenly people are upset that I am "talking about venues." 

I am caught between the desire to be as honest as Spaulding Gray but not wanting to hurt any one's feelings. (With the exception of the sound guy....still can't believe him.) 

Here is my new deal.  I will not write from the venue.  The entry that got the negative comments and notice was sent from my dressing room during a very long tech day.  I needed to get back to the hotel, after the show, and evaluate the entire event and not just that moment of madness caused by some bucolic boom-boxer.  To all you venue promoters who are reading this wondering what I might have to say about an up an coming evening at your facility; Just be ready for our show.  The show is not a comic with a stool and a spot light, we don't do sound checks, we do sound rehearsals, the show has major lighting cues and we need the minimal stuff as spelled out in our rider.  It is a long day to set the show if everything that needs to be done before hand is completed.  Otherwise it is a nightmare.

One of the spaces last run called up two days before we were to show up saying they didn't have some of our requirements.  It was obvious that they had just read the rider. 

If everything is ready when we arrive then the only things that I will have to write about is the funny, wonderful, exciting moments of the event. Personally I would like to get back to that kind of observation.  

As you were,

Jay

Picture from my iBLACKB0ARD

As you were,
Jay

Touching all the Bases

I came home to a Wifi outage.  I am fairly certain that my house is electronically haunted.  Just before I left for this leg of the tour Time Warner was working on the cable and my Internet service was out for a couple days. But it was working fine and better than ever as I hit the road.  I was sure the improvements had helped my service.

A day or so later Sandi tells me that the "yellow lights are blinking on those thingys around the house." I told her to call the cable company and see if there was an outage.  She did. There wasn't an outage, but whatever the cable guy told Sandi to do to help fix the problem.... did not solve the "yellow thingy blinking" issue.  That was the job of "Jay Johnson - Super Geek" when he returns home.  No rest for the weary troubadour, I had to fix it since I couldn't even get my Ipad to go on line .  It took me all day with several successes and many failures.  It was like trying to keep several plates spinning at once.  If one light was green three were out, if two were green one was yellow, if several were green, one would blink yellow, once they were all green and there was no connection to the Internet.

With that behind me I am able to think back on the shows of the last week.  With family issues and back stage politics it seems that my time on stage was the least dramatic part of my life this month. I don't want to remember the shows by the difficulty behind the scenes, I just want to remember the reaction of the audience.  I would say by that scale it was a real success.

But the real story is this: At 3:09 yesterday the phone rang.  A voice says, "Is this Jay Johnson?"  As I always answer before admitting to being anyone I say, "Who is calling?"  The man says, "This is Robert Frazier from Beaumont, Texas".  (Scoobydoo flash back music......)

My first year at Six Flags Bob Frazier was a star singer in the show.  He was a great guy, older than me but a friend. We kept in touch and I soon found myself moving to Astroworld to work in a show that Bob Frazier was also in.  We decided to share an apartment together in Houston.

Finding an apartment that we could afford was made more difficult by the fact that I am white and Bob is black, and this is Houston, Texas in the late 60's.  I don't think I ever really understood the silent face of racism until then.  We shared a couple of apartments together and  eventually I stayed in Houston and we were living together year round. We took work where we could get it and did Astroworld in the Summers.

I met Sandi one of those summers and moved out of an apartment with Bob Frazier into an apartment with my new wife.  Later Bob got married and I was best man at his wedding.  He and Judy lived close by and we became the two couples that did everything together.

I moved to LA and five years after that Bob and Judy moved here to seek the same road that Sandi and I had found.  It was tougher for Bob, a lot of prime dues time had passed and he had to take jobs other than singing.  He even started working for the handyman that we used all the time.

He and Judy were divorced and Bob moved back to Houston and married another woman.  Sandi and I were with them once on a visit to see her parents.  I got a couple of letters from Bob, found out he and Josefina split and I never heard from him again. 

I send letters to his old address and even called Josefina to get his current address.  She said she was passing all my letters on to him, but I never heard back.

(The scene slowly fades to current times - 22 years later).  I have tried to find Bob on line, sent people to Houston to check out numbers, sent letters but never heard from Bob.  He was such a great friend and we had so many memories together I have felt sad that I didn't know where he was, or as we say.... IF he still was.

Then yesterday he called and said, this is Bob Frazier from Beaumont Texas.  I said, "Bob Roomie?" (which is what my 3 year old kid called him when he lived here).  He was confused for a moment and said,  "Frazier, my name is Bob Frazier."  I paused and said, "Right, Robert Raul Roomie Frazier."  He laughed and said.... "Oh yeah, hey Roomie."  We had a long talk but it was a, can't believe it conversation.  I got his number and address, he doesn't have a computer so I will have to keep up with him in more familiar ways.  I said I did not want to fall out of touch again.   We have many more years to catch up on.

You never know what the day holds when you are stuck in Wifi hell until the old fashioned phone rings and it is a voice from a time gone by.  I am so glad to be back in touch with my friend.  Now both my Roomies are back in my life and the world is good.

As you were,

Jay

Lake City FolliesEvidently there are Lake City readers of my blog. At the time I wrote my tweet yesterday I was really upset. This show is a very personal journey for me and it is sometimes hard to get to the level I need to reach. When there is attitude from the people I depend on to present the show, it is really tough. Before the show I apologized to the sound man for my out burst. I was informed by his friends that he is a very kind hearted man, I am sure that is true. He was very competent and the sound was great for the show. But he was way out of line and if he had a schedule problem or thought his time was being wasted he should have taken it up with the local promoter not me. I was there to do my job and I assumed he was there to do his. He questioned my professionalism and he was unapologetic. He certainly showed none of that kind heart to me. I have worked with hundreds of sound men, we usually get along great and some have become friends. But not one of them has ever displayed an attitude like that. I guess if you are the only game in town you think you can get by with it.
John Ivy pulled yet another rabbit out of the hat for this show. He lit the show and programed the cues on a lighting board he had never seen before. He even painted the riser to match the set. He worked from 8:00 am till we loaded out at 10 pm. He wrote the final cue only moments before they let the audience in. He is a genius and I am very lucky to have his level of artistry watching my back. The show looked beautiful and the audience was great. They went with me on the ride and we shared that journey. That is what we do it for. That is why we struggle under less than the best conditions so that the audience can enjoy it. They aren't supposed to know what we went through, and usually don't unless they read this blog.
I am going home for a week before going back on the road with the show in Vermont. I need the rest. I am road burned. There are things I do not want to remember about this leg, but it's not the audience at the Levy Performing Arts Center. They were great. Thank you Lake City.
As you were,
Jay

Tweet

Wow. I'm at the venue and Yipes. It is the nightmare John and I had hoped to avoid. The redneck sound man told me that I was wasting his time. John was in lighting hell and we had not gotten to the sound cues yet. I lost it. It was the straw that broke my back. I said things I thought I would never hear myself say. I told him it was my show and the only time that was being wasted was mine. He said that he did sound all over and implied that I was not very professional. I said, I have a Tony award on my mantel and I would match my experience in theatre to his sound resumé anytime he was ready. I told him sound was very important to me and if he didn't want to run the show then we would get some one else. He told me good luck, there is nobody else in the whole town that can run sound. I turned to one of the students who make up our crew and said to one of the guys. "Are you good with computers?" He said he was average, and I said he already had enough skill to punch a button when John called a cue. The redneck suddenly changed his attitude from hostel to benign.
John stopped programming the show and we dealt with sound so the guy could go back and close the music store he owns in town.
I never thought I would play the Tony card to a redneck music store owner in backwater Florida. I am sure they will be telling tales of the Jerk from LA after I'm gone. I am sure I will be telling stories about them in much more dramatic detail thé minute I leave tonight. Both versions will be true.
Show Bizziness
As you were
Jay
www.monkeyjoke.com

Lost in Travel
I wrote a long blog last night taking about our 7 hour drive to Lake City. I sent it off on the Holiday Inn WiFi network and it never showed up on line. I wonder where things like that go? Are they delivered to some unsuspecting person who wonders why a strange man is complaining to them by email? Or is it an alien civilization that is covertly intercepting errant Internet writings to create a profile of us earthlings? Or is it the Holiday Inn censors that don't allow anything negative to get out about Lake City. I have to admit that I am not sure who is coming to the show tonight. Other than gator wrestling or a mullet and tatoo contest, I don't know what would draw this community to a theatre.
On the drive we were assaulted by billboards that repeated almost every 20 miles. One was a young looking doctor who was advertising vasectomies at an affordable price. John and I nick named him the "cut rate doc." Placed in-between these billboards were two others that also repeated. One, a place called the "Risqué Cafe...we bare all" an interesting mix of naked women and steak sandwiches. The other billboards were religious ads quoting bible verse and dogma against abortion. There was one ad that actually had a reproduction of Michaelangelo's bearded God from the Cistine Chapel not pointing to Adam as it is in the Vatican, but pointing to the swollen stomach of a pregnant teenager.
We finally passed by the Risqué Cafe and it was after all the sexy billboards a converted Stuckeys from years ago. It still had the tall blue pitched roof. Instead of selling pecan logs they were now servicing other types of lumber.
Doctor Chop was still advertising as we exited the free way and as we got into the urban area of Lake City instead of religious billboards every hundred yards there were now churches. As we stopped at one of the traffic lights a car pulled up between our truck and a church. The drivers arm was half way out the window. Adorned with the ink of a fresh tattoo was the double lightening bolts of the German SS surrounded by the Nazi iron cross. The oxymoronic juxtaposition of this momentary image was worthy of art in a Fellini context.
John is redoing the show with lights that are as old as he is. He worked several nights ago on a new plot and emailed it to them. The thought was that they could hang all the lights so we could just focus and write cues today. They didn't and John starts from scratch again this morning.
I will comment on the show after it happens tonight and after I am on the plane headed home.
As you were,
Jay

Magic Time
We closed the Phil in Naples tonight. This tour is such a roller coaster ride. A venue we thought would be impossible turned out to be one of the best. The last audience was the most subdued of the run but all the others have been so much over the top with their reaction that normal became the exception. My sister in law was in attendance with three of her friends. Joyce is a therapist and specializes in multiple personality disorder, so I always enjoy her observations of the show. Joyce is a blessing to my family and it was such a great time to be with her in her state of Florida. Joyce said that I was "On" tonight, but what you don't realize, Joyce, My Doctor sizer is that I was on because you were in the audience.
Also in attendance was a man that was my Dad's roommate on a ship in the Korean war. He had pictures of my Dad that I had never seen before. It is surreal to meet people who knew your parents as people and not as relatives. He gave me a black and white snap shot of my Dad Lt. Noel Johnson on duty in the Gulf of Inchon, Korea. This gracious man was telling me stories about a guy, my father' who was younger than I am now. It was wonderful and chilling at the same time.
One other strange happening of note. At the end of my show I exit stage left in a black out with the lime green trunk illuminated. (If you don't understand then you haven't seen my show and there is no way to explain.) In this theatre there was a total black out and I was only able to see the white tape on the steps to actually get off stage. I was exiting blind. As I came off stage in the dark I bumped into a body, a person that immediately moved out of the way for me to exit. I said, "Exuse me Bruce." Bruce is the stage hand that was positioned stage left and was the one who tossed Spaulding this run. Bruce didn't answer back but there was no need, he kneww that I was coming off the stage blind. As the lights came up for the curtain call I became aware that there was no one stage left but me. Bruce was on stage right waiting for me to exit from my final bow.
There is no doubt in my mind that I ran into so someone or something. It was an odd feeling to find out that there was no human there. I believe it was OG the Opera Ghost. I wasn't looking for ghosts in a new theatre like the Phil, but there is no doubt in my mind that in te dark I bummped into something that felt like flesh and blood. I said something about the experience to Bruce the guy I thought I ran into and he said, "It must have been the theatre ghost that several people had bumped into in the past." Spooky... it kept me up for while and there are always extentions but my southern friends do not worry about such things.As you were,
Jay

Magic Time

I had nightmares about tonight. Two performances back to back ( 5:00 and 7:30) in a place that wasn't ready for us and didn't seem to be the best venue for our show. I could not believe a 5:00 show would draw anybody that would relate. I was so concerned that the theater was expecting a Cabaret act that I lost all belief in the show that we have been doing for so long. Turned out that this space could be one of our best venues. I am ashamed that I did not have faith enough in the process to let it unfold.
The audience was intelligent, open hearted and ready for the ride. The intimacy of the theatre puts the audience right on stage with me. There were screams of laughter and gasps of emotion that took me by surprise. They were my audience and proved that fact with perfect reaction to ever nuance.
Jimmy Nelson and his wife Betty were at the second performance. What a surreal experience. I mention his name every night in the context of being one of my inspirations and his name is in the original script of my show.
I could not let the opportunity pass to make this event one to remember, so I stopped a standing ovation to introduce Jimmy in the audience. There are no words to express such feelings, but when I told the audience he was there and asked him to stand up and be recognized there was a bust recognition that can only be described as magical.
Such moments in a persons career happen only occasionally. This was one. I told the audience that some day I would write a show about my relationship to Jimmy Nelson, and I think I could.
Jimmy is the godfather of ventriloquism and has done more for the art than any one person I can think of. What a joy, what a blessing to have my friend Jimmy Nelson and his incredible wife Betty come to my show. If I can become just a portion of the man Jimmy Nelson is I will be satisfied.
Thank you Mr. Nelson for coming to my show. It was every bit the inspirational experience I dreamed it would be. To sincerely call you my friend gives me goose flesh.
As you were,
Jay

The trip to Naples took us through the Everglades.  There was the occasional road sign that said, "Panther Crossing" and I assume they did not mean the NFL team. The tech staff at the ORC said that we might see alligators, we thought they were trying to scare us into taking the toll road. Not true John and I lost count of the number of alligators we saw in the three hour drive. The first siting was so special had we not been driving the truck we would have turned around to gawk. After a while seeing gators became as common place as seeing BMW's in Beverly Hills.  It was a beautiful day and I assume that the gators were out soaking up the local color.  I wish I had my camera ready for the picture, but about 20 yards from a Panther crossing sign and several large alligators sunbathing was a sign that said, "Camp grounds". In a Gary Larson world it would have been the gators that put the sign there for an easy dinner. 
We arrived at the hotel, or more like a motel that the theatre has provided.  It is okay but certainly not the luxury that we were in last night.... but the good news is we can wear jeans with out worry.
We went by the theatre to get our bearings. This has the potential to be the most difficult place we have been so far.  The show times are weird... 5:30 and 7:30?  I will have to keep the first show to an hour and a half just to have a breather in-between.  We thought they would have all the lights hung and gelled.  The dimmer board is smaller than what we are used to and John will have to rewrite some cues to accommodate, that was to have taken place tonight.  But no lights were hung and they said they were taking tonight to "build the stage....???"  It is a black box theatre and they had not defined the stage with portable risers yet. So we are a day behind before we even start.  And  with a show time so early and so much work to do it will be a very long day tomorrow. 
Mainly I just didn't get a good feeling from the theatre tech guy at the Phil, who shall remain nameless. There was no pretense that he was glad to have us opening tomorrow, or that it was anything but an inconvenience on him that we showed up.  I know they don't hire these guys for there personality and I am not expecting Dale Carnagie (there is a dated reference). But hey... we are all here to do a job and compared to picking strawberries on our knees in a hot field at one hundredth the pay we should at least do it with a happy attitude.
I especially want this two day, four show run to go well because it is the venue that my hero and ventriloquist friend Jimmy Nelson is coming to. He of all people would know what it is like to be on the road at the mercy of weird facilities.  Still you want the show for your idol to be as perfect as can be.  
My sister in law is also coming to see the show here at the Phil. She was there for my opening on Broadway so she has seen the way it should be done,  but she's bringing friends who have no concept of the show. More reason and more pressure on this run to be the best it can be. 
So it could be that I have a wrong impression of the tech guy, and they may be able to focus lights in half the time it takes everyone else.  By tomorrow night I may be saying that this is the best place we have ever done the show, but right now, that seems like an impossible dream.
Stay tuned for more details from this internet address.
As you were,
Jay

On to the Phil in Naples

The theatre is next to the private airport on the grounds of the Ocean Reef Club. We kept hearing the planes take off and land during rehearsal, but never heard a sound during the show. I would like to believe they said, "To show respect for Mr.Johnson, no planes will take off or land during tonight's performance," but I think the real reason is: anyone who wanted to arrive or leave during Presidents day had already done so by 8:00 in the evening.
It went well tonight but it was odd. Reactions were different than any other time we have performed this show. John remarked that I kept changing tactics to try and find their energy. I would get it for a while then it would change and I had to go a different direction. It made for an interesting show and they gave me a very gracious standing ovation at the end. I appreciated it because John and I worked very hard to pull it off.
I think this venue is used to mounting concert type performances, basic lighting and rock and roll sound. The lighting tech said they were stretching their comfort zone with this production. He enjoyed the opportunity to use his artistry. Others were not so willing to work harder for us than they had for Neil Sadaka two nights before. Once again John Ivy proved that he is the master of the theatre and was able to pull it all together, sometimes on the fly. He was able to spoon feed some of the techs and still have their respect and admiration afterwards.
Early in the show I realized that this was more like a corporate show audience than a theatre audience. Ocean Reef Club is a small exclusive community and everyone knows everyone else. It was basically a private show. Like a corporate audience they were not so much enjoying if for themselves, but always aware of how the people next to them were reacting. I do a lot of corporate entertaining and deal with that dynamic in my club act, but it was weird to do The To and Only for that type of crowd.
It was a success and everyone seemed to be happy and enjoy it. I am sure that this show was not what they expected and from my perspective it took them a while to "get with the program".
That is live theatre.... you never know. The reaction of an audience is so subjective and has everything to do with so many things out the performers control. I will never tire of trying to figure an audience out. It is never the same, always a challenge and a dance on a razor edge. I wonder sometimes if I am drawn to it for the joy or the sheer terror of the unpredictability.
Now it is on to Naples. My hero Jimmy Nelson is coming to see the show there. I really want it to be a good venue for him if no one else. We have a weird schedule of two shows an evening. We will barely finish one before we have to reset and do the next. Not like a matinee day, more like a comedy club evening. Again I wonder if they are expecting more of a concert than a "real" show. We will play the cards that are dealt and it will be yet another experience in the saga of the TAO Truck Tour.
As you were,
Jay

Second Round

I left Dallas and flew to Miami. John flew in from NYC and we met at the airport. The truck rental is five minutes from the Miami airport. We booked our ten footer to continue the journey.
It was an hour drive to Key Largo by way of the Garmin. Rarely did the mechanical voice nag us for going the wrong way even when we stopped for a quick bite to eat.
We arrived at the Ocean Reef Club in the rental truck which stuck out like a Mensa candidate at a Sarah Palin rally.
ORC is a private community/city of condos, apartments and high end shops surrounding a Yacht club and golf course. The mode of transportation is golf carts and electric GEM vehicles. Some of the carts are customized to look like everything from a Corvette to a Hummer. At one point I thought we could have been diving on a large scale version of Disneyland's Autopia ride. There was even a golf cart that is customized to look like a 50's hot rod complete with pin striping and decal flames on the side.
Rather than taking us to the hotel registration, the Garmin lead us to the Ocean Reef Cultural Center, the very place we will be performing tomorrow night. Being Sunday it was closed but John and I got out to look around. It is an institutional looking building containing a library, museum, dining room and performance space. We looked through a curtain drawn window and saw a basic banquet room with a lecture stage, no wings, no curtain and residential can type track lighting pointed to the stage. Our smiles turned to mush. We began to wonder how we would get the show mounted on what was basically a riser. Neither of us panicked but later admitted that we were only holding it together for the other persons sake.
We checked into the hotel which is several blocks away, by golf cart, dumped our stuff and found the producer on site had given us a golf cart to use during our stay. I was hoping for one that looked like a miniature BMW, but it is just a standard cart.
We jumped into the cart and began to explore. Now that we were not in a truck we could blend in with greater ease. It is a huge property that looks more like a community designed by a theme park artist than urban planner. They even have their own hospital, and private airport with some very large private planes on the tarmac. We found the only restaurant that has a relaxed dress code and allows jeans at their own private fishing village wharf. Everything seemed to be a dream except the performance space.
After finding all the other restaurants where residents were entering with coat and tie, we stumbled upon the Cultural Center again. This time we noticed a lady with a name tag walking around. We thought that she might be able to open the door to the banquet hall and let us see the space.
Like Alice following the white rabbit we tracked her from a far to a door that seemed to be open. It was, and the lights to the Vestibule were on. We continued down the rabbit hole and were suddenly in the banquet room. There was no mistake, it is a lecture stage like might be in a high school cafeteria. Another lady with a name tag was at the reception desk seating people for an evening meal. Our wardrobe caught her attention at once and she quickly cut us off. "May I help you?" .... read "May I help you find the exit quickly?" she said.
"Well, we just wanted to see the room because I am doing a show here tomorrow night,"
She immediately softened and lit up, "You are Jay Johnson..... Oh my god we are so excited to have you here... I am a huge SOAP fan and we are really looking to the show. How is Bob?
"I'll show you around the stage.." she said, and led us toward the back of the dinning room. I thought I detected a tear in John's eye as he looked toward the baron sterile riser. There was really nothing to see that we could not see from where we were.
We walked toward our fate but she suddenly took a left turn through a hallway filled with enlargements of playbills hung on the walls. I even recognized some of the faces on the covers. She opens a door and we are in a theatre. A raked audience with comfortable seats that could accommodate a crowd of 400. Real theatrical lights were hung, there was more wing space than the Eisemann. There were several dressing rooms. It was a real theatre. John lit up and said, "This will work." Again like Alice in Wonderland I suddenly felt ten feet tall.
Now there is a lot of work to do tomorrow and John will be kept on suicide watch for awhile. Our show is more complicated than the Neil Sadaka concert that was here two nights ago, but at least we have a space that can work. Both John and I come from poor theatre and we can turn a sows ear into at least a cotton purse. Now at least we have a chance to make it work.
I will rest much easier tonight and even feel good enough to write a blog. More Later.
As you were,
Jay

Round One
We closed at the Eisemann Center in Richardson tonight. I doubt that we will be able to beat this experience on the current "truck tour." What a great theatre and great people.
Spaulding decided to grab some attention while we were here. It was the Saturday matinee... after we had done the show a couple of times with no problems. However, when I gave the cue this time he did not roll on stage as he is supposed to. Knowing that he is a prima donna I have a stand in hiding behind the Big Jon trunk so I immediately grabbed Spaulding number 2 and prepared to do the routine. Just as I was getting set to start, Spaulding one rolled on stage. Not having the dexterity to do a double routine I tossed number two and continued with Spaulding one.
At the end of the routine the blocking of the play calls for me to toss him off stage right. Spaulding still did not want to participate in the usual blocking and bounced off a lighting stand and flew back on stage. I have heard of actor milking their part, but I did not think we had that problem in my show.
My blackberry decided to die this evening. I realize how much of my life is controlled by that little device. I didn't have any of the phone numbers I needed nor the information for sending my road trunk to our next destination. I used to remember phone numbers but now all I know is that my sister's phone number is "speed dial 4". The more we know only the things that we can look up, the more we are slave to this world of ones and zeros.
I have a week off to spend with my family here in Dallas. I am looking forward to it especially since the weather had become more accommodating. More later.
As you were,
Jay

Friends
There was a green room full of people to see me after the show tonight. My cousin Geanie was there and a friend from the Horn days, Paul White, but I knew they were coming. I didn't know that Linda of the Desert Fiesta Texas Tech mafia would be there with her daughter and fiancé. Nor did I know that one of the McMaster boys from Abernathy would be there. His Dad used to cut my hair at the only Barber shop in Abernathy. A man named Grady introduced himself like I should know him and in an instant I realized it was the Picalo player from the "Campus Revue" show at Six Flags when I was in High school. It all came back to me. What a hoot.
This is like a time warp... so many people that I have known over the years.
The OG made itself known again tonight. I can't make it happen when I want it to happen but when I am thinking esoteric-spooky thoughts it will manifest. The house manager told me that several people had been startled by it over the last few weeks. His theory was that an errant RF radio frequency was responsible. That could be. It still seems to be more than just random. It happens when my thoughts are on the theatre and the great time I am having.
It is all going too fast as I knew it would. Four more shows and two more days. Why can't this run go on forever?
More friends tomorrow and the show is tighter than it has ever been. I seem to learn how to do it better each time I get to do it. What a blessing.
As you were,
Jay

Opening at the Eisemann
The Eisemann Center is really a wonderful complex. I am very proud of my old home town for building such a great space to perform in. It was a wonderful opening attended by Chuck Eisemann the patron namesake of the Theatre as well as my first manager, first puppet maker and first captive audience. The latter being my Dad my Mom and my Sister. What a thrill to be able to introduce them from the stage in my curtain speech. I love doing this show and with an audience that was into it and with me the entire way is a high that can not be described.
There was an incident. As most of you know I am a person who has a healthy respect for the paranormal and supernatural. I had some encounters with the ghosts of the Helen Hayes theatre, the Geva Theatre and the Cape Playhouse and am always on the look out for others. Usually a theatre that is as new as the Eisemann Center has yet to acquire ghosts so I was not really looking tonight. That is sometimes when you find them.
There is no one to verify my encounters since I was alone in the dressing rooms above the stage when it happened, but the hair on my arms stood straight up when it happened, a sure sign that I have had a visitation. Even thinking about it gives me the chills now.
To set the scene, I have chosen to occupy a single private dressing room that opens into a larger chours dressing room. It is cute and cozy and just right for me. On the wall of the chours dressing room, which is the back wall of my room, is an automatic paper towel dispenser. It is the new kind of "holder/dispenser" that advances a section of towel when you wave your hand near a sensor. I used it earlier in the day and found that unless you were almost touching the sensor it did not work. When it did work it made a distinctive "whirring" noise.
I am not sure the exact thought I was thinking at the time but as I was putting on my makeup in the ritual I have done so often before this show, I was contemplaing "theatre" in general. How great it is to perform in theatres and how great it is to be in my old home town performing. At just that moment, the dispenser on the wall behind me turned on. It startled me. No one was there, no one had walked by and there was no reason for the towel machine to go off. Particularly since I had a difficult time working it before. It startled me and an extrasensorly chill went up and down my body. I walked into the bigger room to see if there was some reason for it to activate. I walked by, waved my hands turned the light on and off and nothing caused it to activate. Something unseen by humans had gotten close enough to it to activate the device.
Of course I took it as a sign that the theatre itself was trying to welcome me home. It made me feel better and a smile came over my face. I kept thinking about it during the show and really felt a part of this space.
There were meet and greets after the show and I was delayed getting out of my costume and eventually found myself alone again in the dressing area. Although I wanted another confirmantion nothing out of the ordinary happened. I put my dressing table in order, shut the door to my small dressing area and turned out the lights to the bigger dressing room before locking up. As I do for every theatre I said good night to the presence of the theatre I am performing in and thanked it for letting me visit and perform. I usually refer to the theatre as OG... or Opera Ghost. Just before shuttiing the door I said, "Thanks and goodnight OG...."
The towel dispenser immediately activated with its "whirring" noise and spit forth a section of towel. Chills went up my spine again and there was no doubt in my mind that OG had answered back. It was the confirmation that I was hoping for. I guess good theatres get haunted quicker than I thought.
There may be plenty of ways to explain these two events, but the timing and the delivery of each was specific and for me greater than random chance. I am excited to go back tomorrow knowing that I am not alone up there. A haunted theatre in my old home town...how great is that.
As you were,
Jay

Tomorrow
I arrived in Richardson tonight with more stress than was necessary. Growing up in Texas they used to say if you don't like the weather wait for 24 hours and it will change. It seems that the cold weather and snow experienced recently in the Metroplex has proven this old yard to be false. I woke up with the sun shining in LA but my thoughts on the snow that was falling in Dallas. Immediately my flight from Burbank was delayed and the flight before mine to Dallas was cancelled. John Ivy's flight from New York was cancelled. Suddenly all plans were changed and the game plan became ad-lib. It was no longer a matter of just doing the show it was a matter of actually making it half way across the country in bad weather to do the show.
John Ivy has been with my show since the Atanlatic Theatre off Broadway. He is the one who has the sound cues, lighting plot and the stage set up. All I do is perform the show. For the entire flight to DFW I considered what kind of show it would be if John became stranded in New York. It would not be the show that I would want to perform as a home coming to my roots.
But when I landed I found out that John had grabbed another flight and beat me here by an hour. We connected at the airport and made our way to the hotel, which is 20 yards from the entrance to the Eisemann Center. All my anxt was defused and the stress of not being prepared to do a show was immediately replaced by the stress of actually doing the show.
Tomorrow will be a full day of settiing up, prepping and performing in a new space, followed by meet and greets with the sponsors and VIPs who will be at the first performance. At this point it seems impossible that it could happen in 24 hours. That is the magic and the illusion of the theatre and no one can really explain how it happens but it does. This living on the edge is the drug that keeps us all addicted.
All I know is, I am excited to be on the stage opening tomorrow. I love to do this show more than any other performance that I get to do. I know that it will go too fast and there won't be time to relish the details and savor the moment. I guess that is why we artists keep looking for more moments to relish. More Later.
As you were,
Jay

COMMING SOON TO THIS BLOG
This will be the address for reading the daily struggles of the east coast tour of Jay Johnson: The Two and Only. There will be daily posts with one clarification; Depending on access to the Internet and temporary wifi connections encountered on the road, posts will be written daily but posted when possible. Although it will be written with new toys, the process will be more like my older blogs from Broadway and London. I hope the substance will at least equal those. I will write after each show and not dash off a thumb-typed status update.

I plan not to sugar coat the experience. Not that I think I sugar coated those older posts but the venues were definitely more exciting to write about. This is a bread and butter tour that is perhaps the polar opposite of a Broadway experience.


John and I will be traveling by truck doing basic one-nighter hi and runs after Richardson. It is not a bus and truck tour...it is just a truck tour. This will be Theatre in its most primitive and basic form, a kick back to the days of the traveling vaudeviille or medicine show.
Join me when we open in Richardson and close in Wisconson. Follow along as I discribe the world of a real theatre tour with all the warts and wrinkles showing.

First installment..... Feb.9th counting down the days until then
As you were,
Jay

Measuring Time

Long hand blog

Paying Respects

Thanks to Bryan Simon for snapping this photo in Hollywood last week.  After dining at Musso and Franks and taking the mandatory tour of the Chinese Theatre, I paused with Jimmy Nelson at the star of Edgar Bergen.  Mr. Bergen has a really good "Star" position on the Blvd.  He is right in front of the Kodak Theatre.  I would guess that the stars who show up for the Academy Awards this year will have to either walk on the star or right by it for this year's award ceremony.  As it is for real estate it is for fame, Location, Location, Location.
Bryan and Marge gave me a disk full of pictures they had taken. It didn't dawn on me that all the ones that I took did not have me in the frame. Nice to be included in the wonderful company.
There is an artistic shot that Bryan took that is clearly my favorite.  I will publish it soon when I have a chance to write about it.
What a great day with a really great man.
As you were,
Jay

Picture of MY Wall
• 
  ob·fus·cate Verb   /ˈäbfəˌskāt/
  Synonyms:

  • verb: darken, obscure, confuse, cloud, dim, becloud
  • obfuscating present participle;   obfuscated past tense;   obfuscated past participle;   obfuscates 3rd person singular present
  • Render obscure, unclear, or unintelligible
    • the spelling changes will deform some familiar words and obfuscate their etymological origins
  • Bewilder (someone)
    • it is more likely to obfuscate people than enlighten them
      
      
      As you were,
      Jay

Doesn't Get Better

It is not a secret that show business is an illusion.  Nothing is really the way it seems in the movies or on television programs.  Even reality shows are not reality but unscripted soap operas.  The mere presence of a recording device combined with human action changes the perception and reality.  As Heisenburg said, "By observing an experiment you have substantially changed the outcome of that experiment."

Admired actors and celebrities can be completely different in "real" life than any of the characters they play. One can love the projected image of a performer and ultimately dislike the person they are.

That is why it is so rare to find a person in show business that is not only the same as their projected image, but even greater.  

Such is the case for ventriloquist hero Jimmy Nelson.

When I was a kid I wanted to grow up to be Jimmy Nelson.  At the time he was my favorite ventriloquist on television. Along with his partner Danny O'Day and droopy dog Farfel,  Jimmy made me jones  for Nestlés Quick and long for the next installment of his famous, "Chaaaacolate" commercials.

Later,  while trying to pursue a career in ventriloquism myself, I had an occasion to meet Jimmy. He was instantly lovable and gracious to a young ventriloquist who admired his talents.  But he was that way to everyone.  I later made friends with his son Larry who was an actor in town.  Being a relatively small world community of ventriloquist, I got to interact with Jimmy on several occasions and each time found him to be exactly like you would hope your idol would be.

Over the years I was able to ask him questions that only a successful ventriloquist could answer for a fellow performer. He remained as gracious and humble as the first time I met him and  we became friends. It is not hard to be friends with such a man as Jimmy Nelson.

For the last two days I have been on the set of a video shoot documenting the career of my good friend.  His humility precluded him talking about his career unless asked and this was an in depth interview.  I found out  things I never knew about his life .  The more I listened the more I realized that I was right in wanting to be like him.

The producer/director of the film Bryan Simon is also an admirer of Jimmy Nelson.  Bryan says when he is  trying to make a critical decision his mantra is:  WWJD, Which in this case stands for "What would Jimmy Do?"

Great talent is rare in humans.  Graciousness and humility is rarer, and the number of talented people who deserve our admiration is the rarest quality of all.  That is why my friend Jimmy Nelson is so special. I have never heard him say an unkind word about anyone, even other ventriloquists who blatantly lifted his material for their own use.  I was correct in my early desire to be like Jimmy Nelson.  He is a true treasure to the art form and humanity itself.

Thanks for making it all happen Bryan and Marge. You are both treasures as well.

Pictures to come.

As you were,

Jay

Re-Claiming Space and Re-wiring Lamps

Since moving into this house, Sandi has continually expressed a dislike for the lighting fixture above the breakfast table. It did not bother me but I was willing to change it for something better.  It has taken this long to find the fixture she wanted. She bought it some time in the fall. The box with fixture inside sat on a breakfast chair for a long time and I saw it as I was in and out of town.  Eventually, in my absence, the box was taken to my office, which becomes a household warehouse when I am gone. My first duty when returning from the road is to reclaim my office space, and deal with the stuff that has been hidden away there.

To even enter the clutter of the office this time,  I have to step over the new boxed up lighting fixture. It has to be dealt with first. Sandi wanted to at least get it out of the box and see it above the table to make sure it is what she wants before *we* go to the trouble of installing it. I was eager to get it out of my office.... 

This is the definition of a perfect storm.

I deal with electrical repairs only when Sandi is not home for one reason. Years ago, I replaced the transformer for the kitchen light. I had not bothered to turn the circuit off at the outside electrical box, just the switch on the wall was off.  I knew even at the time that is not proper procedure, but I was using extreme caution.  At a critical point with the two junction box electrical wires in each hand, Sandra walked into the kitchen and saw me carefully working atop a ladder.  My focus was on the wires, but I remember vaguely her saying, "don't you need some light up there," and out of the corner of my eye see her move to the wall switch.  Before I can say anything Sandi turned on the very light that is being repaired.  Fortunately I  let go of the wires as I yell to her.  Sparks fly through the air like the laboratory of Frankensteins castle. I am off the ladder grabbing for the switch, as blue lightening arches at the electrical box.  That is why I prefer to do electrical work alone, but I am not sure I will even have to wire this new lamp up before Sandi gets home... she just wants to see what it looks like. 

I should have known that it was not a matter of taking something out of its box and holding it up. The box was flat and the fixture round and long. Some *assembly*, as it says on the box, is required. To be honest, it was in 20 different pieces, and not so much a light fixture as the "kit" to build a light fixture. I wrongly figured the tricky part of this lamp was connecting it to the electrical box....as I looked at this mechanical jigsaw puzzle, electricity was the farthest thing from my mind.

However, I was now committed. It was the first step to get back into the office. If you have ever dealt with a lamp or light fixture you know, it is all about the wiring. The wires have to thread through various other parts like tubes and face plates sockets, mountings and in this case a five foot length of chain. And these parts have to face the right direction since they interact with screw threads.  My mechanical sense, if I have one, said to me...get the wiring all done right the first time and the rest will be smooth. A truer statement there can not be, but the devil is in the definition of "right the first time."  My first "right" time took me a about an hour.

Cutting to the chase. After a couple of days we have a new light fixture with the right size bulb, hung to the right height, working from the correct switch with all the covers and trim pieces turned in the right direction and in their place. During the two days, I completely rewired, re-strung and threaded three wires through all the parts of the lamp from the ceiling junction box to the bulb socket, 8 different times.  One re-wire was necessary to remove a single link of chain. Although I cut my time to 45 minutes it was still,  EIGHT separate, complicated, starting from scratch, page one do-overs, and at the same time avoiding accidental electrocution by thoughtful family members.  It became a force 12 storm. 

Only my wife, my sister and my brother will understand the way I normally deal with this sort of life episode. Simply put, I deal with such problems in a dramatically over the top burst of hopeless anger and  depression. Sometimes resulting in physical violence directed toward the innocent tool.  I seem to think that desperate and complete admission of failure is the first step to completing any physical project.   

But... After the third do-over instead of rage I burst into laughter. It became a real life, slap-stick three-stooges adventure. Suddenly I was seeing my life as a game show. I was both contestant and audience. To win the prize I needed to assemble a working lamp from multiple enigmatic parts before Sandi gets home. But of course to make it funny it has to be as difficult as possible.

Between discoveries that the smallest piece of the lamp is turned the wrong direction and the entire wiring must be done again,  I keep hitting my head on the new light because I am not used to it being there.  This running joke takes five blows to the noggin before I can remember the new lamp is there and avoid it. But for some reason every bump and every acknowledgment that the job had to be redone struck me funny. It was a very new experience.  

I don't know if my attitude toward every project will be changed to laughter, or if this was an isolated event.  I vote for a revelation rebellion for change and to always see the humor in such laborious tasks. 

As you were,

Jay

Personal life window...

Of course the iPad is all about the apps. I remember when I bought it the apple guy said, "you're are all set, now you just have to keep filling it with apps." Although I mostly blog and draw on it, I do cruise the apps store on a regular basis. There are so many apps that do everything from useful to useless it is hard to know what to down load and what not to bother with; but for ninety-nine cents it is hard not to exercise a bargain curiosity. Some of apps I've bought have been used exactly twice. Once when I first downloaded it, and a second time when I showed Sandi how cool it was. After receiving her agreement, I usually have no use for it's functions.

So when my friend Marsha showed up for coffee with her iPad it became a seminar of "what are your cool apps?" She turned me on to some really great ones. One of the most interesting is a speedometer. It is just that. Using the gps chip in the iPad it reads and looks just like the speedometer in you car and registers distance and speed, I put it in the car and leaned it against Radio. It was just as accurate as the BMW dashboard. I could easily have used it instead of the one installed.

Here is what I am thinking with Bluetooth tech, we could hook all kinds of information to the ipad which could essentially become our personal instrument panel. Like the screens in Star Trek sick bay, our personal read out could include our heart rate, blood pressure, temp, blood sugar, UV levels, distance traveled, altitude, and a million other checks on what our body is doing at every moment. You could bring your personal control panel to a doctor's appointment, and the doctor could access the stored results to see how you have been during the times between appointments. Perhaps figure out that certain places or heights are not healthy for you.

I told Marsha it is like the Dick Tracey wrist radio/ television communicator has now become a reality but even more amazing. (Probably only to those of use who actually remember Dick Tracey form the Sunday paper color funny pages.) I'm glad to be around watching, analyzing and app- ing my way into a brave new world. I just wish our politics and national dialogue would advance so easily and beneficially. We still seem to be practicing 18th century government. With all this 21st century abilities.
As you were,
Jay

Inspiration

Although I got back before the weekend I feel like it is my first day back home. I've tried to construct an equation explaining how long it takes me to feel like I am home. For a while I thought it was proportional to the time spent away. I never could come up with the numbers that worked. Like most of my attempts at scientific evaluations of my life the rules don't seem to be universal. Perhaps that is the difference between art and science. Scientific experiments can be recreated with the same results every time, while art seems to be accidental at best. Hardly any moment is artistically the same every time.

When I was working at the Amphitheater at Six Flags in high school I would record the humidity and the temperature at every show and compare that to the reaction and enthusiasm of the audience. I told my producer/mentor Mr.Meeker what I was doing, and even showed him the beginning of the chart. He said, "If you can come up with that formula you will make a fortune." Just when I thought I had an algorithm and a chart with a perfect bell curve, the next audience would ruin the results. Needless to say it was not my path to fortune.

So, on my first day back I am looking for inspiration and have come to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on the corner, assuming the muse might be hiding in an ice blended mocha. Although I am critical of the writers I see here writing in public; with my iPad in tow I have joined their "wifi" ranks. However, I immediately wonder what is so inspiring here? Between the sound of the coffee steamer hissing, the blender grinding, the musak blaring and the snippets of random conversations from everyone talking on a cell phone, it is like trying to swim in a sandbox. I now realize my mistake, you "go somewhere" for inspiration or you "go somewhere" to write,they are not the same trip.

I need to put down the iPad look around, observer, remember and analyze. Then after I have come to some sort conclusion based on this inspiration, I go to a quiet, boring uninteresting place to write.

This of course bolsters my opinion that everyone trying to write in here is indeed just a poser. That or it is my ADD and I can not concentrate long enough to filter out the distractions like the real writers can do. Or perhaps real writers think of the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf as a boring place and not inspirational at all.

Well, that does it, this is certainly not the place for me and I don't belong to is group. "My god Jim I'm an artist not a scientist". (are references to Star Trek - the first generation even relative in 2011?) See what this environment is doing to me.

I'm out of here.

But what will I write about today?

As you were,

Jay

The Bird That Stayed Behind

The Bluetooth Affect

Self Portrait

José how could you

Yesterday I talked about my experiences with the "straw Jesus". Today I began thinking about the guy in that show who played Coronado, José Alverez. I met José a couple of years before we ended up performing at Charlies Place. We were doing another show for the same producer in Carlsbad, New Mexico. Many stories there but none to be told in the blog today.
José was a very large guy from El Paso. He was 5' 6" and maybe 300 pounds. His mother owned a Mexican Food restaurant in the Texas Border town and he grew up being the official taco tester. You would say that he was a jolly fat man, very enthusiastic on stage with a smile that never quit. There was a laugh in his voice even when he sang. The producer I mentioned loved to give him comedy characters to play on stage.
José was a tad naïve and would fall for the same practical joke over and over, so he was a target, a large easy target, for me and the rest of the members of the cast.
There was a running joke that we all perpetrated on him nearly once a week and he never ever saw it coming. That was the fun of the of it, he was just too jolly to believe we would continue to conspire against him.
I think the joke started when one of the guys legitimately misplaced his wallet. He was asking everyone if they had seen it and the entire company was looking for it. Toward the end of the evening it was found. Rather than just tell everyone it had been found the guy decided to hide it in José's locker and shared that information with everyone but José. We all made a point to be near that locker after the show. José opened the locker and one of us (maybe me) said "Hey, Dave, isn't that your wallet?". In a well rehearsed motion everyone turned to see the "stolen" wallet. We all looked at Jose with contempt. "Jose, how could you?I thought we were friends. If you needed some money for extra food you know I would have loaned it to you, " was all Dave said as he retrieved his wallet. As we all shook our heads and headed out the door José was baffled and pleaded his innocence to the condemning cast. Even by the next day he didn't realize he had been hoodwinked.
A week later one of the guys asked the cast if anyone had seen his watch. In a repeat performance we were all there when the watch was found in José's locker.
Another week or so went by and one of the waiters mentioned they were running low on silverware in the kitchen. The opportunity was too perfect. At the end of the evening silverware cascaded from José's locker. "José how could you" became the mantra. After a few more discoveries we cooled it for a while. José finally began to catch on when there was a crowd gathering at his locker at the end of the evening.
The final ploy was the best. One night the Chef was not there at the start of the evening. It was the talk of the theater. Would there be dinners tonight if Jimmy the Chef was not in the kitchen? Sure enough when we all finished the show Jimmy the Chef was bound and gagged below José's locker. All at once we said, "José how could you."
No doubt his weight was a problem no matter how jolly and happy José seemed. However, I don't recall him ever complaining about anything in his life. Less than ten years after the demise of Charlies Place José Alverez died of a heart attack. I remember his good nature and on stage he never gave less than a hundred percent. We miss you José and if you are reading this now some how, "Have you seen my money clip?"
As you were,
Jay
www.monkeyjoke.com

Parade Rest

First day of a new set of passengers on the Navigator and I am stuck in the pub unable to escape due to the welcome aboard parade that has taken over the Royal Promenade. As I watch the parade staff trying their best to look like they are having a good time strutting in garish costumes, I am glad that it is not a requirement for a guest entertainer. However, it reminds me of the days when I *was* required to parade in costume for a paycheck. Not on a ship but dry land. Not that it made a difference to my self-esteem at the time. I feel the angst of those who I watch now paying their dues.

It was a dinner theater called Charlies Place in FT Worth, Texas. We did a variety show for an audience that dined on gourmet spaghetti. It kept Sandi and I employed for a couple of years as bizarre as it seems now. And it did lead to meeting my first personal manager who brought me to LA and the rest is history as they say. The manager assured me my parading days were over. It is the only thing he came through on.

We changed shows every few months at Charlies Place and eventually did a show themed on all six countries that owned Texas in it's past. The cursed parade was part of the Mexico theme. In context of the show a procession of Mexican peasants proceeded the arrival of Coronado, the conquering hero. It became a musical number because we were so happy to be conquered, I suppose.

We were all dressed in muslin drag with sombrero's carrying various gifts for Sr Coronado. In reality the gifts were cheap border town souvenirs from Juarez. We paraded through the night club carrying the "gifts" trying to look and sound as Mexican as a waspy cast could. Only the guy who played Coronado was actually Hispanic. He translated a song for us to sing in Spanish at the conclusion of the parade.

My peasant was chosen to carry an awful interpretation of Christ on the Cross depicted in straw. I came to call it the "damn straw Jesus". I was at the time humiliated as a performer and offended as a card carrying Methodist to have to carry such a gift. It was pure sacrilege as I saw it, and hated every second I had to handle it. I will probably have to answer on judgment day for the way I treated the icon. I was as abusive as possible toward the prop hoping it would become so shabby looking they would have to give me something else to carry. It didn't work. All I accomplished was to make an already awful looking savior look more terrible.

They did have the good sense to put me in the back for the musical number. Consequently I never had to learn the Spanish lyrics. After the first phrase "Coronado hombre amado ..." I faked it with words like enchilada, taco, con queso and occasionally Desi Arnaz. In FT Worth, Texas no one was going to notice.

The show ended finally but ran longer than Mexico occupied Texas. There were other humiliations in performances to follow but none as defeating to my ego as bearer of the "damn straw Jesus".

So parade on my Royal Caribbean brothers and sisters. I can tell you that this too shall pass and some day if you are lucky, like me, they will give you a Tony in exchange for your goofy prop.
As you were,
Jay
www.monkeyjoke.com

What is happiness

This is a study in human nature with me as the bad example. (I bow to my friend Zan on this subject. Consult her Blog "Zan on Happiness" for real solutions to the question)
I finally get on the Navigator. I've been here many times and know the accommodations well. It is a suite and not a crew cabin. I am happy.
When I settle in I discover that the television is not working. Since Bob doesn't talk to me except on stage I usually have the TV on and tuned to CNN for company. That and the off chance there might be some universal catastrophe that might cancel my show.
But the television is broken and won't turn on. "Damn TV" I say to myself. I am not happy.
For a few minutes I wonder what will keep me occupied during my down time. I soon discover I can bide my time drawing and reading and playing with my IPAD. I begin to fill the day with those activities. I think how much calmer it is spending time creatively with out the drone of impending disaster and drug ads polluting the atmosphere. I fall asleep that night not to the TV but beautiful music coming from my favorite itunes. I think this will be a great advantage not having a TV. The TV is such a distraction. I say, "Damn TV". I am happy.
I wake up refreshed. I greet my steward with a smile in the hallway. He is happy. He asks if everything is alright. I say the TV doesn't work but all is good. The steward says, "Damn TV." He is not happy.
He leads me back to the suite. After a few unhappy minutes trying to fix it he finally discovers a glitch in the remote. He says the TV is prone to this problem. Frustrated that it he has to fix it again, he says, "Damn TV". He is happy.
He leaves the suite with the Television on and ironically tuned to CNN. Cliff hanger promos fill my world once again and I am caught up in the need to see the incredible video coming up next. I wonder, on the ship who would I call if I suddenly did have an erection that lasted four hours. The production manager? I think I am happy. But then realize I am caught up in the world of "coming up next". I am not drawing and I am not reading. I am not listening to my music. I come to my senses and break the hypnotic CNN spell. I try to turn it off but can't. Short of contacting the steward and ruining his happiness again, I can not get the TV to turn off. I think to myself .... "Damn TV" and I am not happy.
I leave the television on and leave the suite for the deck looking over Montego Bay. Soaking in the beauty I decide to write a blog on my BlackBerry about not being happy. But now... I am happy........ "Damn TV."
As you were,
Jay
www.monkeyjoke.com

Final Chapter
I talked to my son yesterday. He told me about a scary experience at the house earlier that day. Living in Encino with a security system and an electric gate on the driveway entrance we have always felt very safe, but criminals are always a step ahead of any technology.

My son had just returned from class and driven into the garage. The gate stays open for 45 seconds before it closes automatically, and had not yet closed as he was getting a backpack out of his trunk. At that moment an old car sped through the gate and screeched to a stop in the middle of the driveway, blocking any exit. A Ukrainian man jumped from the car and started toward him. It was the typical scenario for a home invasion robbery.

My son is a big guy and grabbed for anything he could use as a weapon. By then the intruder was almost in his face. Taking an offensive stance with a makeshift weapon in hand, he said, "What the f*** do you think you are doing?"
The guy jumped back and nervously said, "Bags, Bags I deliver the bags."
It was the long lost luggage from Germany being delivered by an English-challenged Ukrainian delivery man who was in much too much of a hurry.

No call, no notice, just a rush up the driveway when the gate opened. He quickly got our bags out of his car, with the motor still running, spewing exhaust. He tossed them on the porch and left as frantically as he arrived. It all took less than 45 seconds since the gate was still open as he sped away. My son took a moment to let his blood pressure drop and now sees the humor in the whole thing.

This event happens on the same day I receive an email saying KLM has no new information on our bags. I thought the email was funny because it said the bags were not lost, but they didn't know where they were. I wondered at the time what the KLM definition of "lost" actually is.
So there you have it, the final chapter in the saga of the lost luggage. The two bags have been out of our possession since December 17th just short of three weeks.

American Express is due a letter of praise from me. As a long time member and Platinum Card holder, the global services division has called, questioned and badgered KLM every day on my behalf since the bags were lost in Amsterdam. Sandi and I were able to get on with our lives, work and travel without having to sit on the phone ourselves. I will continue to be a fan of AMEX. I'm not sure I will choose to fly KLM again....although they did eventually return the bags to our home, albeit in a somewhat dysfunctional way.

Real life is so much more interesting than fiction, except in the case of reality television shows.
As you were,
Jay

Random access
My friend Jeannine Brenier has a line in her act that has stayed with me for decades. Talking about her career, She said,"You know how they say it's lonely at the top, well it's jammed right up here in the middle." I'm not sure what my show biz ranking is nor who decides but I am sure that loneliness is not exclusive to any rank. Even if you travel with an entourage you find yourself watching CNN alone in some hotel room trying to fall asleep.

That is where I find myself tonight, in a Crown Plaza hotel room near the Miami airport waiting to join a ship in 48 hours. I can't count the number of hotel rooms I have occupied in my career. After I filled a large cardboard box with the plastic card keys from places I stayed I stopped counting. I had an idea that some day I would cover the walls of my office with a hotel key mosaic. That is less appealing now than when I started keeping them. All hotels look alike to me now and even the best with the most beautiful decor feels cold and Spartan. It is a space you occupy but never claim as your own space. Home is where your heart is and I have never found my "heart" in a hotel room.

They have me on the Executive floor. Other than a small private lounge featuring morning coffee with continental breakfast and the necessity of a card key to access the floor, I don't notice the Executive additions.

Signage in both English and Spanish proclaims the entire floor a "quiet zone", information that should be shared with the planes landing at Miami International near by. The sign suggests ways to keep the "zone" quiet. It says, "Between the hours of 9:30pm and 9:30am please keep your television volume to a minimum, do not slam your door, keep conversations down especially in the hallway and NO LOUD SINGING IN THE SHOWER."
In my years of staying in hotels I can't remember a single time when my solitude was disturbed by "loud singing in the shower" nor did I know this was a big problem for Inn keepers.

CNN has started to repeat its programing so it must be time to go to sleep. In the morning I will try to remember where I am until I totally wake up and look around. The first thing I will comprehend fully is the fact that I am not home, I am living the glamorous life of show business.
As you were,
Jay

The Villain of Eden

So glad to have an iPad on the road. Down time is so much more interesting.
As you were,
Jay

Down Time

When I have no where to go and nothing to do and I am not at home, I think of odd things. Some of my friends and family would argue that I think of odd things most of the time. Odd is in the eyes of the beholder I suppose, however even I know that my brain was probably constructed by temp workers. Perhaps it was an assembly line joke for that day.
At any rate I see things differently and mostly think of that as an advantage.
As my mind wonders off today in contemplation of where our lost Christmas luggage might be, I recall some of my encounters with the KLM representatives in Holland. What comes to mind is the Dutch greeting that starts any conversation in Amsterdam. Every person behind a counter greets you with "Hallo". It sounds enough like "hello" that I would immediately start explaining my problem in English. Although most people speak English in Amsterdam it is not their first language and I speak faster than the average human.
I would realize my mistake about three sentences in. Their expression would go blank and their eyes would glaze over with that thousand yard stare. Of course I would start to compensate by speaking louder and slower. It is the equivalent of a Japanese speaker trying to help me understand by loudly saying "Bo... Choy. mich.... Ting ...Seri.... Owtaw. " volume is not the solution.
For all I know I was telling KLM to keep my luggage and send it to the Swiss Army.
Sandi believes our luggage will be found and arrive soon. She is an optimist, she thought marrying me was a good idea and still thinks my oddness is cute until it can be cured. All my friends regard her as a saint for staying with me for almost four decades. Being on the road was much more fun last week when she was here.
As you were,
Jay
www.monkeyjoke.com

Lost in transit
Back on dry land for a day or so. The hotel has a free wifi and I feel like I am in control of my iPad again. I will catch a ship at Grand Cayman in a day or so and continue my Naval life. It means a couple of days in a hotel, but it keeps me from having to fly coast to coast twice in 48 hours. Sandi flew home today from St Thomas, through Phidelphia. It is an odd way to get back to LA and it will be a long day for her, but she is due back on the set of "The Big Bang Theory" this week.
It is not the flying so much as the connections that have been difficult in the last couple of months. Flying to Ft Laudrdale last week I had to divert to Chicago instead of going through Dallas because the connections were not happening on my original flight. It delayed me by six hours but at least I made it wit all my luggage.
The Oasis of the seas was a real experience. I made the joke on stage that they could design a ship with a carousel on board but I still couldn't turn around in my cabin bathroom. Six thousand people, and it is crowded, but big enough that there is always a place you can be that is not packed with people. They have an outdoor aqua stage at the back of the ship where they do a water show. They do there best to make it like Cirque du Sole's "O" in Las Vegas.
My favorite feature on the ship is a bar called "Rising Tide". It is a small lounge that is in the middle of the Royal Promanade that seats twenty people or so. At fifteen minute intervals the entire bar lifts and rises three decks to come to rest in the Central Park section of the ship. Central Park is my favorite part of the ship. A park like setting that is open to the sky with plants and restaurants. It is calm and beautiful and takes you totally away from what you think of as a ship environment.
Happy New Year to all. Thanks for all the well wishes.
As you were,
Jay

P.S.
As we left the ship the electronic marquee had been changed to advertise the next act coming to the theatre. It was the picture of a band called Abba-cadabra, an Abba cover group. The text said.... Comedy Ventiloquist. They had not changed it from description of my show the day before. You can build the biggest ship in the world but it still has to be maintained by humans.

New Years at Sea

When my agent told me that I was going to perform a New Years Eve show on the largest cruise ship in the world, the Oasis, I was very excited. That is until it dawned on me that's the very same plot as the disaster movie The Posiden Adventure.
But the only disaster encountered was the reality that the ship is full of more than three thousand non English speaking passengers. They only know one phrase of English, "You ....not funny".
But I must say this ship is more impressive than you can imagine. I have worked on every class of ship in the RCCL fleet and the Oasis truly is a destination unto itself. In fact there may be too much to do since every venue is in competition with every other. There was a comedy show at the comedy club at the same time as my show. About half the club audience was at the wrong place. I felt bad for the comedians; when they announced the comics names for their show fifty people got up and left for my theatre.
Sandi is going back home tomorrow, but I am hanging around Miami to catch the Navigator for another week at sea. I have not been home for more than four days at a time for four months. In the words of Hyman Roth from the Godfather, "I didn't say anything because it is The Business we have chosen."
Oh and if you are keeping score is now going on week three of the hunt for our luggage. They now say there is no record of the attempt to delivery the bags in Berlin.
As you were,
Jay
www.monkeyjoke.com