Touring with Steve Martin

A screen grab from my TV, showing an out-of-focus Troubadour marquee

After our three weeks in the wintry Midwest (see post from April 4, 2021), we were blessed with a much-needed trip to Southern California. Steve Martin had a short stint at the Troubadour in Hollywood, and he wanted us to open for him.

Bill McEuen, Steve’s manager, had an HBO camera crew on hand for taping a possible show for him, and McEuen insisted that they film us as well. It was fairly obvious that our stage show didn’t work that well on TV. I remember watching Dan Wheetman chewing gum during our performance, and that was remarked on as something that wouldn’t be acceptable. I think we could have been coached to present ourselves to the camera in a manner that would work, but that opportunity was not forthcoming.

On the bright side, after one of our sets the door to our dressing room opened, a man stuck his head in, and he said, “Great show, folks,” and he was gone. As usual, Vic was the one with the presence of mind to recognize him and say, “That was Roger Miller!”

We returned to the Troubadour in LA with Steve for five days in July, followed by two more weeks at the Boarding House in San Francisco. Finally, we returned with him to California at the end of October 1976, playing one weekend at the Troubadour, two nights at the Golden Bear in Huntington Beach, one night at San Diego State University, and one at UC Berkeley.

At that last show the comedian and actor Martin Mull joined us all onstage for some bluegrass. Mull is a great rhythm guitar player, and the eight-piece bluegrass band that was onstage at the end of Steve’s show was very well received. Vic remembered Mull sitting down with us and showing us some “great chords” to incorporate into a song we were working up called “Avalon,” which was written by Al Jolson and recorded by Bing Crosby and others.

Merv Griffin

In January 1977, it was back to Hollywood to appear on the Merv Griffin Show, which was taped on January 26. Someone had said that “Avalon” was a favorite of Merv’s, and we picked that song for his show. It went really well, and as we exited the stage during the applause, he acknowledged each of us individually.

When it was my turn, I remember looking into his eyes, which were as clear and peaceful as those of anyone I’ve ever met. I’ve rarely come in contact with someone who was so present and in the moment; at least that’s my memory of that encounter.

We followed up that show with a night with Steve at the Roxy in Hollywood and several nights with him back in Aspen at the Cabaret in February.

In contrast to the peacefulness of Merv Griffin’s eyes, my heart and “head” were in considerable conflict. My memory of that night at the Roxy is one of being dull and late… dull in terms of musical ideas, and late in terms of my body executing the ideas I did have. Something was clearly out of whack, though I had not yet developed the dispassionate self-observation that would been required to make good use of that situation.

Many years later, I came to recognize that my heart was no more resonant with “show business” than was Jan Garrett’s. More about that next time.