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Nancy Deedrick

Our 15th Year!





Bruce Lundy H.B.Lundy@SBCGlobal.Net owned the first teenage nightclub in the country located on Ventura Boulevard just west of Sepulveda. He sent along these wonderful shots taken at his club around 1962.

The owner, Bruce Lundy, is in the white shirt, 
with his sister Pauline, and her husband, Dave Rosen.

Thank you, Bruce! You and your club are legendary.

The Following Features Dan Pollock...

1958-1964 bore a different look, attitude, and sound. It
was the tiny era that bridged the old glamour and fashion of
Hollywood, with the newer, hipper, crowd that received all the attention. It was during these years, though, rock and roll was born, and the blues got noticed. Blues had been around for decades, but nobody paid much attention, until it was discovered that blues was the roots of rock and roll.

 Music and fashion were expressions of this newest generation's changing times, it's how they inspired the rest of the world to watch and listen to them. Blues and rock and roll were their musical meat, and folk was their potato. The punks came on the scene, along with the rebels, the hipsters, the potheads and the loud and fast guitars. The times, they were a-changin.

Dan Pollock   wrote to me recently, because he was looking for some old friends from those earlier sixties years. He currently writes for Vintage Guitar Magazine and will soon have his own book, "Blues for the White Boy" published. Turned out
he was a goldmine of information and photographs, which
of course, I will have to include right here:

 I used to ply my trade as a guitar player, sometimes on the strip with a band called "The Mixtures". We did the weekly TV show called "Parade Of Hits" from the KCOP studios on La Brea and we were very popular regulars at "The Rainbow Gardens" in Pomona. Bob Eubanks (The Newlywed Game) was our manager. But it was in the early 60's rather then toward the end of the decade so you may not remember.
You stated that "Rick Allen" was a great organist with "Delaney & Bonnie". I worked with a drummer here in Ventura at a place called "The Ban Dar" (defunct) who went on to work with "D&B" but he was a fantastic drummer not an organist. I found your page while trying to find out about some old friends of mine, "Pat & Lolly Vega". Do you remember what club they were regulars at? I also played at Gazzari's, again in the early 60's with a bass player and singer named "Joel Christie". Do you happen to remember him?
That aside, keep up the good work......I really enjoyed going down memory lane!!
Dan Pollock
Ventura, CA

I think I was on the Strip a little before your time. "Dino's", "PJ's", and "The Crescendo" were still there. It's now "The Comedy Store" but originally it was "Ciro's" and I worked there with comedian Redd Foxx when it was divided in half. We were working the "left side" called "The Living Room" which featured jazz and on the other side of the partition, it was called "It's Boss" that was rock and roll. Those were great times. I played The Strip originally in 1961 at "Pandora's Box" with bongo player Preston Epps then Gazzari's with Joel Christie and I can't remember the name of the club that I played with a guy I call "the ugliest man in show business", Jody Rich. I'll have to send you a picture of him. I'm working on getting a package ready for you. I was at the Sunset Towers not too long ago to meet an old friend, a legend in his own time, saxophonist, Joe Houston who was a big west coast star in the 1950's and he's still working. You've probably never heard of these people but we all worked The Strip when it was HAPPENIN'!! Do you live near there??

If I remember correctly, the Ash Grove was owned and operated by the family of the late guitarist, "Randy California" originally with the group, "Spirit". He died a few years back in a surfing accident in Hawaii. He was on his way to do a tour of Europe and me and Tracy Longo, a noted luthier, had just prepared all of his guitars for the tour. Randy was a nice guy and started out playing in a band with Jimi Hendrix before Jimi was famous.


Sam & The Goodtimers, 1966

I was with Sam & The Goodtimers when I got out of the Army in 1966. It's basically, The Ike & Tina Turner Revue band but we quit Ike after he was getting funny with the money and were fed up when he kicked Tina's ass when she asked him to please pay us. We were the house band at the famed "Califonian Club" at Santa Barbara (MLK Jr Blvd) and Western in Los Angeles where this photo was taken. We then moved to a place on The Strip called, "Soul'd Out" and everybody in town used to line up to get in that place!  From left to right:


Sam Rhodes (bass), Thomas "Nose" Norwood (hidden) drums, Rayfield Devers (baritone sax), Clifford Solomon (tenor sax), Billy Bryant (trumpet), me on guitar. Bobby John is out front doing the vocal. Hidden behind Sam is pianist, Ernest Lane. After I left the band, they went on tour with The Monkees of all people!

Goodtimers reunion, 1998

Mike Kaufer, the promotor for the annual "Bowlful Of Blues" in Ojai, booked us for a reunion concert in 1998. This photo of some of the guys was taken back stage there. From left to right:
The great Clifford Solomon who has just about played with everybody. He started out with Lionel Hampton in the late 40's with a young trumpet player named Quincy Jones. He was with Charles Brown for years, Johnny Otis (you probably saw him when you went to the Ash Grove to see Johnny and Shuggie), Ike & Tina Turner, Sam & The Goodtimers and he was also Ray Charles' band director for ten years just to mention a few. He's 72 now and in frail health, undergoing dialysis. I have to go down and see him soon at Midland Hospital in L.A.
Fred Wesley. What can I say about Fred. One of the best musicians I've ever met. He started out with Hank Ballard and The Midnighters then went with Ike & Tina. We met when we were both stationed at Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville, Alabama while in the Army in 1964. He went on to lead James Brown's band for years and then ventured out with Maceo Parker and the JB Horns. He was also very instrumental in the careers of funksters George Clinton and Bootsie Collins. He tours with his own band now and is a big star in Europe.
Me. I ain't done shit!
Sam Rhodes. Ike Turner's long time bass player. One of the most gentle men I have ever known! You could lose a loved one and inside of five minutes, Sam will have you laughing and celebrating the life lost rather than mourning it! He only plays in church now.

The Jody Rich Group
From left to right:
Dale (unknown last name) - guitar
Jess Porras - tenor sax
Santos Hernandez - drums (kneeling)
Dan Pollock - guitar
Jody Rich - 6 string bass (the ugliest man
in show business!)

Regarding Keith and David Carradine:

His old man, John Carradine used to have a regular seat a the bar at "The Lobster Trap" restaurant in Channel Islands Harbor where I used to play. He had arthritis so bad in his hands that they were all curled up and he had to lower himself at the bar to sip a drink because his hands wouldn't allow him to hold the glass up. It was sad but he was one of the regulars.
When I used to hang with Barbara Hershey, she was going by the name of "Barbara Seagull"!!
Don't know how I missed Bobby Hart on your page. "The Mixtures" that I was in were his main back-up band when he was a performer in the early sixties. He wore the same black corduroy suit he bought at National Shirt Shop for $19.95 every time we backed him! When the lights would hit him right, you could see where he had ironed it right over the food stains that were on it. Our manager, Eddie Davis was his manager too for awhile.
When I told you about the "Soul'd Out" club that Sam & The Goodtimers played at, I now remember that prior to the name change, it was called "Club Lingerie".

Here is a portion of Chapter 13 from my book, entitled, "Mister Daniels and Mister Cain". I thought you might enjoy it and maybe it's something that you can identify with. I'm a songwriter too and one of my tunes is at the end of this portion. It was great therapy writing it.

(all is copyrighted but I don't have the icon)

If I was playing in a bar or lounge, I'd drink too. I was noted for becoming one of those drunks that can be intoxicated but not show it by slurring their words or falling down or puking. It's hard to imagine but I only did that a few times. Most often, I was functional. I'm proud to say that I'm a pretty good cook and would rarely go out for dinner because I didn't think the food would be as good as mine and I wasn't about to pay for the ambience alone. On rare occasions when I would venture out to have dinner, I always avoided any restaurant that didn't have a bar and I would drive past four or five very good dining spots to get to one that had a sign that said, "Coctails". I did that for years.

I was also a member of "The Cardinals", a club my mother dreamed up or maybe she got it from somebody that used to come to their parties. The initiation into this club was simple, yet demanding and I've seen many a person who could hold their liquor pretty well pass out drunk for missing the ques by the moderator. I passed the initiation on the first "go 'round" and for the first time, I saw some pride in my mom's face for her son, who up until the time I joined this little club, hadn't really accomplished much at all in life. I'm going to reveal the secrets to the initiation here, something that I'm sure will piss her off.

The moderator goes through the series of drinks that will make or break you first, so you can see how the ritual is performed. You are told that the glass must be empty after each of the three excercises and to have a very keen eye. If you're not very observant, you're in big trouble from the get go because if you miss something, it's all over and you have to go back and start at the beginning. You are never told what you have done wrong. After the moderator completes the ritual, then it's the plebe's turn at it and this is where the fun begins.

A rocks glass is filled with about three fingers of the liquor of choice and it is held up to the lips by the thumb and forefinger. The greenhorn states, "Here's to The Cardinals once, poof" and one gulp is taken. The glass is placed back on the table with one audible sound. Then you stomp your left foot once, your right foot once and then you stand up and sit down once. Now you have to take the glass with thumb and two fingers and say, "Here's to The Cardinals twice, poof, poof" and two gulps are taken and the feet are stomped twice and so on. On the last leg it's your thumb and three fingers holding the glass and "here's to The Cardinals thrice, poof, poof, poof" and hopefully they would be able to finish the excercise but most of them never did. It doesn't sound like much but I've seen many a heavyweight go by the wayside trying to gain entry into this exclusive club.

When I came back to California after my discharge from the Army, I had a passenger in my Thunderbird, an army buddy from Redstone Arsenal named Brendan Patrick Vaughan who was an Irishman that was raised in Manchester, England. He had enlisted in the Army to expedite his U.S. citizenship and he was going home to California for a leave and hitched a ride with me. He spent a couple of days with us in our apartment above our bakery in Compton. He could hold his liquor just about as well as I did but he made the mistake of wanting to become a Cardinal and demanded that he be considered for membership. My mom set him up and before I knew it, this guy was all tangled up in the clotheslines on a little patio we had above the business and he almost fell off the roof into the parking lot while he was trying to hit on my sister, Toni. He never got past the first step and never could figure out what he was doing wrong. The next morning when he was halfway sober but with an aching hangover, we told him what his mistakes had been. He wanted to try again but I forgot to mention one of the other "cardinal" rules. If you miss the first time, there are no second chances.

I should go back to duck hunting so I can mention an incident, this time involving my going through a quart bottle of George Dickel sour mash. A deputy friend of mine and I were selected by lottery to be able to hunt a federal waterfowl refuge in San Luis, located in the San Juaquin Valley and we drove up there for opening day of the season. It was a great hunt and we bagged our limit in no time. We decided to go into town and have a big feast at a restaurant that we spotted in a shopping center because it had a cocktail sign above the door. We parked in the lot a few car lengths from the entrance and as my buddy was approaching the door to the eatery, he turned around to see why I wasn't following him in. What he saw and heard was me blasting a bronze eagle on top of a tall flag standard in the lot with my Browning Auto-5 shotgun with number four duck loads, exclaiming. "it's a duck...it's a fucking duck"! We laid rubber accross the entire lot heading out of town before the cops got there. We went to the next town on the route home and went into some steak house and had a great meal. My hunting buddy was going to pay for the meal and drinks with his credit card and when the meal was finished, he asked me to sign for him while he went to the men's room. Instead of signing it, I took the whole clipboard to the car and again, we laid about fifty yards of Goodyear in the parking lot, making a dash for home. Nothing like a free meal and a host of drinks!

I was with the same deputy out on the town one night, hitting all the bars before we went over to "Cleck's", a popular hangout for people working in the judicial system. You can't believe how many policemen, prosecuting attorney's and judges that would get as drunk as "Cooder Brown" in this place and then drive home, only to throw the book at somebody for doing the same in court the next day. When we closed the place, we decided to go over to the Bureau of Investigation at the Sheriff's complex and blow into a breathalyzer just for fun. We both blew a 2.0, more than twice the legal limit! We just laughed it off, including the bureau's personnel and when my friend was back on duty the next day, he went out and resumed arresting people for the same offense. "To Protect And To Serve", my ass!

It's no secret that when you ingest cocaine and alcohol, it does awful things to your liver and cardiovascular system and I was no exception. One of it's symptoms is it raises your body temperature and you can feel like you're in the middle of the Mojave in the summertime when it's just about freezing around you. This happened to me many times and one time I scared my wife half to death trying to alleviate this symptom. It was in the middle of the night, about 3am and she was sound asleep in our bedroom. I had just driven in from Los Angeles and I was burning up after doing about half a gram on the way home. I was in the kitchen snorting a few more lines and gulping the Daniels behind each hit. She awoke to a clamor coming from the kitchen and by the time she got up and threw a robe on, I wasn't anywhere to be found. She observed the entire contents of our refrigerator on the kitchen floor, including the shelves. She searched the entire house and couldn't find me. She thought that I was looking for something to eat and when I couldn't find anything suitable, I had gone out to a twenty four hour drive through. She returned to the kitchen to replace all of the perishibles in the refrigerator and when she opened the door, there I was in a fetal position inside, trying to cool off!

I suffered two serious heart attacks and underwent triple bypass surgery in March of 1994, something I will never do again. My heart attacks were a result of my long time alcohol abuse and my addiction to cocain in the mid eighties in addition to it being in my gene pool. I used to do a gram of that shit at a sitting , at least three times a week, following each hit with a double slug of Jack Daniels. I would lay down on my back on the couch, chain smoking cigarettes during these binges and I would put my hand over my heart and I could actually watch it jumping up and down with the palpitations. After experiencing that more times than I care to admit, I'm still baffled why I was surprised when I had the attacks but somehow I separated my drug and booze induced symptoms, along with my family history of coronary disease, in my mind. I was always under the impression that heart attacks were painful and that a sharp pain would shoot down your left arm, giving you a signal of what was about to occur.

I wasn't experiencing any pain and my left arm felt fine. I felt like Fred Wesley was sitting on my chest and I could hardly get my breath. That was it. I was lucky enough to be in my car about two blocks away from my primary doctor when they hit me and I rushed over there. That probably saved me as I was immediately sent to Community Memorial Hospital and was flat on my back in surgery twenty four hours later after they stabilized me. My heart was severely damaged and enlarged and my back was still a mess from an injury I incurred while working for the Sheriff about twenty years before. I ended up on a Social Security Disability Pension and to this day, I struggle to keep my head above water just like I did when I was playing guitar for a living.

In 1986, I decided that I had all the cocaine and heavy drinking that I wanted in life and I went about kicking it's symptoms and the terrible prospect of withdrawal. I left my wife and son and rented a small bungalow at Silver Strand Beach on the Oxnard shore and locked myself in for almost three months. I refused to see anyone, including my family, other than my son who would come over and pass me some food and toiletries through the open door while I was standing behind it, peeking at him through the crack by the hinges. I faced the horrible task of kicking it alone and the sight of him, although he couldn't see me was my inspiration. I was too stubborn and proud to seek professional help. This is when I started to write and this book is a result of that long and lonely road I took to regain my sanity. I always thought that the voyage on that old scow going to Korea was the worst thing I could face in life, other than losing a loved one. That voyage to Korea was tantamount to taking a girl on a date in a small row boat on the calm waters of Lake Casitas compared to what I was about to face. In addition to writing down my memoirs, trying to explain my behavior to my son and myself, I wrote the following song as part of my therapy. I rarely perform it and haven't passed it on to others because that's just what it was....therapy.


"Mister Daniels and Mister Cain"

(words and music by Dan Pollock 1986)

Let me tell you about two old friends of mine

They've been with me for a long, long time

I'll introduce you to them, by their name

but whatever you call them, they're still the same

Mister Daniels and Mister Cain

I thought they were friends, tried and true

But now I know what they done put me through

Lost all my friends, ain't got nothin' in the bank

For all the coke I've blown and the liquor I've drank

Mister Daniels and Mister Cain


Once I was a young man, full of dreams and ambitions

But that's all gone today, I'm in a miserable condition

All I wanted was to be with my guitar

Make a little money, get me a house and a car

Damn you Mister Daniels and Mister Cain

All those years on the road, playing one night stands

Home is where you find it, it's where your suitcase lands

A forgotten voice says, "try this, it'll make it right"

So I did a million times, now I'm in for the fight

With Mister Daniels and Mister Cain

Now I ask myself why, why did you let yourself go?

All I can say is, hell I don't know

But I know deep down inside, my heart knows it's true

I just gave in to those goddamned two

Mister Daniels and Mister Cain

Nobody forced me at the point of a gun

To lie to myself and to everyone

Now I'm at the bottom trying hard to get up

Don't know if I can make it without a straw and a cup

Mister Daniels and Mister Cain

But there's two beautiful flowers, fragile butterflies

They're scared half to death 'cause I always stay high

They gave me some choices, more than a few

But the best choice I made, is to know that I'm through

With Mister Daniels and Mister Cain

Jazz Pioneers, 1965

This is the group I was with when we were working "The Living Room" at the old Ciro's nightclub on The Strip with Redd Foxx. From left to right:
Me, E.W. Wainwright Jr. (hidden) drums, Frank McCrary alto sax, Everett "E.J." Turner trumpet and Sonny Davis bass.
Photo taken 1965.


WOW!! You've had one exciting life for a young lady! Yep....I went that route too as just about everybody did, especially the musicians. Believe it or not, I didn't start out on weed but started smoking pure opium while I was in Korea. Then I went to the green leafy substance which led me to that biggest of all lies....Cocain! I ended up freebasing big time and had to sell my first house just to pay off my debt to some big time gangstas in Compton. On top of that I ended up with two major heart attacks and open heart surgery in 1994. Ended up on a Social Security Disability pension because as you are well aware that musicians carry little if any insurance. So it's been a struggle making ends meet but like you, I am a survivor.
So you're back in my neck of the woods while I was with the Jazz Pioneers. I've been to Nashville a couple of times but for me, Chattanooga was what was happening. I was a regular there in a place they called "9th Street" that is long gone now due to urban development. It was like a miniature Beale Street in Memphis and some of my best experiences an playing were there, so it holds a fond place in my heart.
AND I must mention and I hope without being forward that you are one beautiful lady! Love those pictures of you as the Queen of the dance! Does an old heart good!
Again post what you like at your convenience.

Street Fair, 1999, Ventura, CA

Bowlful of Blues, Ojai, CA


Here's a couple of recent photos of me with my band.
#1 - "Street Fair" 1999 in downtown Ventura, CA. Me on guitar and that's Everett Turner on trumpet from my old "Jazz Pioneer's" days.
#2 - 17th Annual "Bowlful Of Blues" in Ojai, CA. Me on guitar/vocals with back-up singer.
My band was called "The Blues Shack Band" named after my radio show I had at the time, called "The Blues Shack" on KCLU 88.3 FM (National Public Radio)
These probably have to value to your site but I thought I'd share them with you.


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