Conspiracy theorists notwithstanding, it’s generally accepted that mankind first set foot on the moon 56 years ago this past Sunday, when American astronaut Neil Armstrong popped out of the Apollo 11 Lunar Module Eagle and onto the surface of the Mare Tranquillitatis. I made a giant step of my own that day, attending what was, more or less, my first rock concert.
As to the band’s identity, I have no idea. I had just turned three a few months earlier, and precocious as I was — I learned to read my first book, the perhaps-prophetically titled Little Tiger Takes a Trip, aloud in its entirety before the year was out — it would still be a few more years before I began to obsessively absorb musical information. I do, however, recall the venue: it was the lounge of the S.S. Milwaukee Clipper, on a ferry ride from Muskegon, Michigan to Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
The trip had been my mom’s idea. We lived in Ann Arbor at the time, and her folks had recently moved to Milwaukee, so taking “The Clipper” seemed (on paper, at least) like a more efficient way for us to travel to see them than driving around Lake Michigan.
“What was I thinking?” she laughs now, whenever I bring up that trip. Because of course it was a three-hour drive from Ann Arbor to Muskegon, and then at least four interminable hours aboard the ship — which probably would have been a little more bearable if my parents didn’t have my three-year-old self and my one-year-old sister to contend with. (But hey, at least our fares were free, right?) She remembers it as more or less as the archetypal cruise from hell.
And I suppose it probably was. My own limited memories of the trip, however, are uniformly happy ones, filled with a small, highly-inquisitive boy’s wonder and excitement at being on a gigantic steamship filled with festive travelers: memories of driving our car up the ramp and into the hold, of the boat noisily leaving the docks to the accompaniment of honking horns and cheering passengers, of seagulls swooping past us in the bright sunlight. And, best of all, of boogieing down with my mom in the Clipper lounge to the rocking sounds of some now-forgotten teen combo.
The bandstand, as you can see in the above pic, was less than a foot off the dance floor, and I was drawn to it even before the musicians took the stage. Their instruments were already set up, and were placed at the perfect level to draw the rapt attention of a three year-old child.
“Don’t touch,” my mom gently reminded me, but I was simply too dazzled by the instrumental bounty set before me to even dare. The sight of those motionless electric guitars, with their rich sunburst finishes, tortoiseshell pick guards and chrome plates glinting in the daylight coming through the lounge’s windows, was absolutely the coolest thing I'd ever encountered, and the coiled cables attaching the instruments to their amplifiers with glowing lights and rows of control knobs somehow made me think of all the mad scientist laboratories that I’d seen in various TV cartoons. The silent drums, coated in a sparkle-flake finish that reminded me of the spaceship gondolas I’d seen on carnival rides, looked as interstellar to me as any lunar module.
I have no real-time memories of the Apollo 11 mission itself; I only know that our voyage coincided with that momentous event because, for years afterwards, my Grandpa Fred would tell me that we’d come in on the Clipper the day that a man first walked on the moon. Born in 1914 to Italian immigrant parents, Grandpa Fred had already seen so many positive changes and accomplishments happen in this country during his lifetime, and he could not have been prouder of the fact that America’s space program was the first to reach the moon; his beloved grandchildren arriving for a summer visit on the same day as the moon landing must have made him particularly happy. (I can only imagine how crushed my grandfather would be today by the knowledge that the country he proudly served and put so much faith in is pouring billions into building concentration camps and employing secret police to disappear people based solely on the color of their skin…)
I do, however, vaguely remember the band that played on the Clipper that day. It was a group of young guys, clean-cut and presentable in the way that mid-sixties Midwestern garage bands generally looked before the pot and paisley kicked in too hard. This was 1969, of course, which meant that the combo in question would have been considered less than hip for the times — but since Clipper excursions were advertised as a “fun for the whole family” kinda thing, there was no way in hell that a Steppenwolf wannabe or minor-league MC5 would have been booked to kick out the jams during the voyage.
No, these guys would have been booked to entertain the bored teens who were stuck on the ferry with their parents, while also taking care not to offend said parents’ conservative sensibilities. In my mind’s eye, the Clipper band looked something like Beloit, Wisconsin’s No Left Turns did back in 1967.
At the time, I figured that the band onstage must be The Beatles, as they were pretty much the only band I was aware of. And they probably did play a Beatles hit or two that day, though I have zero memory of the setlist. I just remember being utterly elated by the sound of the band, and the magical way the music vibrated through my body while I whirled around on the dance floor. I also remember some older kids pointing and laughing at me — kind of making fun of the little boy going bonkers, but at the same time also kind of cheering me on.
Still, my memory of the experience is kind of like a silent super-8 home movie with a generic “sixties” music track laid over it, and there’s much I would give to actually be able to remember a song or two that the band played that day, and how it sounded. Looking at the above Cash Box Top 20 from the week of July 19, 1969, odds are high that at least a couple of the above songs made the set list, though some would have definitely been too funky (“Mother Popcorn,” “I Turned You On”), too raunchy (“Honky Tonk Women”), too horny (“Love Me Tonight”), too schmaltzy (“Romeo & Juliet” and “Quentin’s Theme”) or simply too much of a bummer (“Ruby Don’t Take Your Love to Town,” “In the Year 2525”) to play for Clipper passengers.
If I had to hazard a guess as to which of these 20 songs were played that afternoon while crossing Lake Michigan, I’d go with “Good Morning Starshine” and “Crystal Blue Persuasion” — both of them simple enough for a four- or five-piece band to play convincingly, both relatively upbeat without the potential to scare the dentures clean sout of Granny’s mouth, and both featuring wholesome, positive lyrics that wouldn’t need to be toned down for the kids.
I’ll never know for sure, of course; but the Tommy James jam (the ToJam, if you will) has felt like an old friend to me ever since I heard it on KRLA in 1978, so perhaps that Clipper trip was the first time I’d made its acquaintance. In any case, whatever songs I heard that day planted a seed that would fully sprout a decade later, when music would become an all-consuming obsession — one that has never really let go of me since.
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What a summer that was! I was 20 years older than you so I remember it vividly. I had just graduated with my MLS (masters in Library Science) from UCLA, and I was waiting for my port call to go to Vietnam as a civilian Army Librarian running recreational libraries for the soldiers. Right around the time of the moon walk, which I watched in total amazement, I went to a concert at the Orange Show auditorium in San Bernardino, CA starring Diana Ross and the Supremes. The extra added previously unannounced attraction was one of the first public appearances of a brand new R&B soul group, the Jackson 5. I’ll never forget it. A month later I was flying out of Travis AFB on my way to a life changing year in Vietnam. I’m going to make a playlist of those Top 20 songs. They will always remind me of that summer of ‘69, when for me everything changed.
Aw, I was 10 in 1969, and I recall all those songs on the hit list except "Mother Popcorn"! I guess my AM station didn't play it. Your start of loving music is a great story!