Rags to Polka Riches in America

It's been a quiet 4th of July for us. We went to church this morning. I wore my NMA t-shirt because it has an American flag on the back. Several other members of our little country church wore patriotic shirts, too. After church I took a nap: I'm still getting over exhaustion from the NMA Reunion road trip. Now we're watching patriotic movies. Movies like Rambo II and the Shmenge Brother's The Last Polka.

What could be more American than Rambo II, when "Sly" kicks some Viet Nam butt to free some of the American servicemen who we all know were left behind. I just wish the movie was based on fact... that someone(s) actually did go in there to free the captives.

On a much lighter note, what, I ask you, could be more American than the Shmenge brothers, Yosh and Stan? Here are two musicians from Lutonia who came to America with nothing but the clothes on their backs, a set of professional Gelkes (pickle jars), a Clarinet, and an Accordion. They had nothing but a dream... a dream to bring their own inimitable style of music to the polka-starved masses of the United States.

After watching Rambo II, I dug out my old phone book and decided to try calling Yosh Shmenge. I hadn't seen him in years. Since the Shmenge brothers retirement in the 80's they dropped off the musical map. Luckily, Yosh still had the same phone number and was happy to hear from me. After some small talk and catching up on family news, my old friend consented to a phone interview exclusively for the avid and faithful readers of my blog:

JOHN: Yosh... It's so good to talk to you again. The musical world lost two gems in its crown when you and Stan retired. What have you two been up to for the past twenty-five or so years?

YOSH: No comment... (laughing) No, I'm only kidding. You know, it's our old joke, Stan and I, to say "no comment" when the media ask us a question. But seriously, we have been enjoying our families... uh, enjoying spending time with our families and... Well you know, we stay busy. Fishing. We go fishing a lot.

JOHN: Do you ever miss the old days? The fame? The girls?

YOSH: Sure... sure, we miss the old days playing music, you know. The fame? We never did what we did for fame or money. Of course the money was nice. Let's be honest. But the money is not the whole thing, you know. It's the music. The Polka music!

JOHN: And the girls? How about the girls?

YOSH: (laughing) No... no... no, we don't miss the girls. There really weren't any girls. Those rumors about us and the Lemon Twins... they were just rumors. Bad rumors. They upset our wives. Of course, the publicity... now that was good. You know, in show business they always say that there is no such thing as "bad" publicity. In fact, we sold a lot of records because of it. I don't know who would start such a rumor. Some people in the business, you know, other polka artists, said that the rumors were started by Stan and myself. But why would we do such a thing?

JOHN: Well, we're not trying to dredge up old rumors, but it sure would be good to smash it once and for all.

YOSH: Well, I can categorically say that the Lemon Twins were never in my hotel rooms at the same time! After that, all I can say is "no comment".

JOHN: So how is your Independence Day going. Are you having fun?

YOSH: Sure, sure... We are having the fun. My wife made Raisin Surprise Balls this morning and, lucky me, I found a raisin in one of them! We had some left-over Cabbage Rolls for breakfast. Stan and his family are going to come over later for a barbecue.

JOHN: Really? What will you cook?

YOSH: More Cabbage Rolls. And then after dark we'll light some fireworks. I bought some from a friend. Oh, I know what you are thinking: it's not legal here. Well all I can say is that it helps knowing the police chief, Mark Kasprzak, he's a good friend of mine, and not a bad Gelke player in his own right. Don't tell anyone, but Stan and I are planning a surprise for the families: We still have our old Michael Jackson costumes and light sabers. We're going to give them a laser light show.

JOHN: Sounds like fun. I wish I could be there. But let me ask you...

YOSH: Sorry to cut you off, but I just wanted to say something.

JOHN: Sure. Go ahead.

YOSH: Well, it being Independence Day. Stan and myself. We know we're not originally from America. We are from Lutonia. We have the dual citizenship, so I guess that means that we are half American and half Lutonian. Either that or one of us is all American and the other is all Lutonian (laughing). But how would we decide who is which? But seriously, we were just two poor Lutonian boys when we came here. Now look at us! We have lived our dreams. And that's the best thing about America, isn't it? Whatever your dream is, you can have the freedom to work for it. And, with a little bit of luck, you can make your dreams come true. America was founded by immigrants, wasn't it. I think there should be a way for people like us to come to America. Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about the people who have political or financial reasons for immigrating. I'm talking about people like Stan and me... people who want to live the American dream.

JOHN: Thank you Yosh. I think that's the way we all feel, but it's good to hear it.

YOSH: And I would also like to say that during World War II, when the Nazis invaded Lutonia (they wanted our Gelkes, pickle jars, as there was a shortage in Germany), they almost wiped out Lutonia. Think about it: without Lutonia, there would be no cabbage; no Raisin Surprise Balls; no Gelke playing and, by the way, no Yosh and Stan Shmenge. So I would like to say thanks, and I know I am speaking for Stan, the Lemon Twins and the entire Happy Wanderers Band, too, when I say this... I would like to say thanks to all the American servicemen and women who fought in all the wars so that poor countries like Lutonia could be free.

JOHN: Thanks very much, Yosh, for that statement. As a retired Navy Musician, I...

YOSH: Oh, I don't want to forget the musicians. Being Lutonians, we can appreciate the musicians maybe more than many Americans, the music being a large part of our heritage... that and cabbage... But the musicians work hard and work even harder when there is a war. It's the musicians who keep the morale up when the war is happening, both at home and on the battlefronts. You were asking what I've been doing since retirement?

JOHN: Yes. I think my readers would like to know.

YOSH: Well, part of what I've been doing is to study the American history for my citizenship, you know. And I read that even back in the Civil War the musicians went with the troops to help with the morale. The soldiers... they had nothing! No Raisin Surprise Balls, no cabbage rolls, nothing. But they did have music to keep their spirits up. I read that at night, after the battles, the bands would entertain the troops. Sometimes the bands from both sides would entertain the other troops!

JOHN: Really?

YOSH: Yes, it's true. Look it up in the history books. There was this one time when the Confederate band had a very good coronet player. I would not be surprised to find out that he was Polish: they almost always make the best brass players. Anyway, the Union soldiers could hear him playing from the Union camp. The Union and Confederate bands would take turns playing tunes. It was like the battle of the bands, you know. And one night the trumpet player didn't play. The Union soldiers yelled, "Hey, Johnnie! We want to hear that coronet!" The Confederates replied, "He's afraid you'll ruin his horn." So they called a truce for a concert. Now that's what I call making peace!

JOHN: That's an incredible story. You say it's true?

YOSH: Yes. It's true. Look it up for yourself. Anyway, I got to go now, but I didn't want to go without first saying the thanks to America. Stan and his family will be here any minute...

JOHN: What's that loud crackling sound I hear?

YOSH: Oh... That's just the barbecue grill. It needs a little tending. Boy, those things get hot very fast!

JOHN: One more question before you go... Your records are still selling like hotcakes. You and Stan have become sort of cult icons, so to speak. Any chance that the two of you will come out of retirement?

YOSH: Well, I don't know about the "cult" thing... We gave it some thought, but in the end it turned out to be too expensive. About whether or not we will come out of retirement? All I can say is (laughing)... No comment!

Gene Bertoncini

It's not very often that I tell people to run right out and by a CD. In fact, the last time I said that was the first time I heard Quincy Jones Back on the Block about 20 years ago (if you don't have Quincy's CD, run right out...). Gene Bertoncini's Body and Soul is just such a CD! It, and other CDs are available through Amazon.

Back on the Block has just about everything going for it. Great arrangements by Quincy, George Benson, Miles, Take 6, the list goes on and on. A huge undertaking with a gazillion fantastic musicians! Gene Bertoncini's Body and Soul has... just him. Just Gene playing a nylon string guitar, but somehow it is no less amazing.

There are approximately 10 to the 11th power of stars in our galaxy. That's the number 10 followed by 11 zeroes. I whupped out my scientific calculator and, if I remembered the formula correctly, there are approximately 4.61 times 10 to the 18th power possible combinations of notes on a guitar. Yes, that's the digits 461 followed by 16 zeroes or the number:

461,000,000,000,000,000,000

Herb Ellis used to tease Charlie Byrd about his "cowboy chords". Still, Charlie, another master of the classical (nylon string) guitar, did alright for himself and is truly worthy of recognition as an all-time great. Gene Bertoncini uses incredible harmonies. Incredible "I wish I'd thought of that" harmonies that, owing to the guitar's user-friendly overtone structure, he can get away with nicely. Truly, if you tried the same harmonies with 6 saxophones, you'd get a mind-bending migraine after just a few minutes.

Special thanks goes to Steve Abshire (link in side bar) for introducing me to this genius' work. Gene has several CDs available. Gonna buy 'em today. Plus he has a book or two and an instructional video put out by Mel Bay. Gonna buy them, too. Don't waste any time. Buy them. Your ears will thank you.

"Who Moved My Chops?" Goes Mainline

From the Editor:

Hmm... Maybe I meant "mainstream" instead of "mainline". Anyway, up until now, my blog has centered around getting my chops back for the NMA Reunion. Now, with the reunion over and the next one a year away, "Who Moved My Chops?" will still be about getting my chops back and expanding my musical abilities, but now will chronicle my search for the perfect gig, the perfect student, etc. Along with that will come music and Navy news, reviews of CDs, concerts, local groups worthy of national recognition (yes, there are a few such groups in the Ozarks), sheet music, etc. Also, whatever meager philosophies I have and yahdee-yahdee-yah!

Yes, the fun never ends at "Who Moved My Chops?"

So check back often. There will usually be something new. Better yet, join FaceBook and request to be my friend: you'll receive a notification every time I post something new.

I Should Be Committed

Yes, I should be committed. It's what people tell me all the time. Well, this time, it seems as though I am committed. Committed to attending the next NMA Reunion in Virginia Beach, that is.

Yes, I had so much fun in San Antonio this year that I really want to go next year. Troubling me was the fact that it's going to be in Virginia Beach: too far for me to drive. So the problem was how to get my guitar there undamaged.

Herb Ellis flew all the time and he seldom had trouble with his guitar getting all busted up. He had a pretty nice case, but it was one of those regular shaped guitar cases instead of an Anvil type case. I'm frankly surprised that he didn't have any more trouble than he did, with airline gorillas tossing his guitar from monkey to monkey.

I guess I'm just a "glass half empty" sort of guy, but I automatically assume that the gorillas are just waiting for my guitar (maybe even have a flyer on their bulletin board warning them to be on the lookout for it) so that they can use it for gorilla games, games such as "Lawn Case", tarmac "Case Curling" and "Case Hockey" using the wheels of moving aircraft for goals. So I just can't imagine sending my guitar flying in less than the best case.

Since the good ol' VA has been dumping money on me lately (having recently been re-rated at a higher disability percentage), money I didn't know I had coming to me, I decided to spring for a flight case. I recall that around 1978, I sold my Gibson L-5 guitar in order to buy a flight case for my solid body (I'm still kicking myself in the butt for that one) and, amazingly, the price hasn't gone up much at all since then.

Back in the 70's an Anvil case, the only ones available, cost me around $250. The SKB case pictured (guitar not included) was only $249 the other day. In fact, there are a wide variety of flight cases available through Musician's Friend and other online stores for saxes, trumpets and other instruments with and without wheels, backpack style, hard shell under-the-aircraft styles, etc. that can be had for between $100 - $200. If you've got to fly to Virginia Beach next year, it might be well worth saving your nickels and dimes for the purchase of such a case.

I've always envied the flute/piccolo players and clarinet players who can pack their axes in a briefcase. My road/flight case is doubtless going to be a lot heavier, but it will protect Axecalibur from the airline gorillas and get it there safely. That's a good thing. Wouldn't do to piss off Dracrevocsid, the Lady of Lake Taneycomo, who gave it to me... (see earlier posts) As George H.W. Bush would say, "Wouldn't be prudent at this juncture".

The Yellow Roads of Texas

Can you spot the sign for the Doubletree Hotel? It's in there, you just have to look hard. I know it's difficult, but I'll bet you could do it if you felt like you were going to die of heat exhaustion. Man! San Antonio was hotter than a Cuban Salsa.

The trouble with the streets of San Antonio is --- well, look at that mess! It's even worse than it looks! The trouble with the streets there is that they all go one way --- the wrong way.

If you get off the freeway --- well, to begin with, you have to know where you are getting off beforehand. If you wait until you see, for instance, a Walmart, you've missed the exit you needed to take, and you can't get back there!!! You have to get off the freeway 2 or 3 miles down the road and the streets won't let you get back to where you wanted to go.

I am convinced that Texas roads are designed to make sure visitors never come back.

In the picture you can see the hotel and the roads. We were returning to the hotel and could see the hotel --- but we couldn't get there!! It was maddening! We finally got within 2 blocks of the Doubletree and could see the sign over the top of the Hobby Lobby which was more or less just across the street from the Doubletree --- or so we thought. We spent an additional 20 minutes or so going this way and that until we found our way back to the frontage road about half a mile from the hotel. And when we were leaving San Antonio, we could see the highway we were supposed to take... several times, but couldn't get there! We got on and off the highway several times in both directions, but still couldn't get there. Finally, we had to get off the highway, go 4 or 5 miles down the frontage row, turn around and get back on the highway in order to take the right exit.

I'm sure glad to be back home where there is only one road in and out of town.

Home At Last

This morning I was sleeping peacefully, visions of sugar-plums dancing in my head, when I heard a voice say, "Wake up. Wake up, you sleepy head. Get up. Get up. Get out of bed". I opened one eye and, of course, the voice belonged to Dracrevocsid, the Lady of Lake Taneycomo. So I went downstairs to make some coffee, followed by Dracrevocsid going "Shhh! Shhh! You'll wake her up!" all the way down. "You 'shh'," I said, "You sound like a trumpet player blowing his spit-valve.

We got downstairs and, after the coffee was ready and we'd both drank a cup, I asked, "Long time, no see. What words of wisdom do you have for me this morning, oh Lady of Lake Taneycomo?" She replied, "I can't get started. I could write a book... " I said, "It must be a pretty good gig... I mean just going around giving everyone advice and then splitting. It reminds me of that gig I used to have delivering singing telegrams: going to parties, busting everything up and then cutting out! Why, I remember this one time when..." She nodded and interrupted with, "Yes, yes... I'm sure it's all very interesting. But why is it that you mortals always seem to think the 'song' is you? Concerning my gig as Lady of a Lake, it's nice work if you can get it, but believe me when I say that it's not all lollipops and roses. Once you become a Lady of a Lake, the party's over! All that youthful frolicking? It don't mean a thing! If I knew then what I know now... Oy... I could write a book!"

I didn't mean to cut her off --- well, actually, I did mean to cut her off --- but I asked her what the purpose of this morning's visit was. I mean, I hadn't yet got over my case of "road lag". And I was beginning to see a pattern: I asked her if everything she was going to say to me this morning was going to have a song title in it? "... You seem to have like 'theme days'... Sometimes you make bad puns. Other days you speak in Chaucerian English..." She broke in, saying, "Am I not a Lady of a Lake??" I told her that was my point, exactly, and I asked her again if today was yet another theme day. "Maybe... Maybe not! Don't blame me. As Lady of Lake Taneycomo, I don't get around much anymore. Anyway," she went on, "no matter how I say things, I always speak to you about important things.

"What's important, you may ask? Obviously, music! And anyway, you've got me all jazzy feeling with all that music which was being played at the NMA Reunion." "You were there?" I asked, incredulous, "I thought I'd given you the slip... I mean I'm surprised you could break yourself away from your other duties, oh Lady of the Lake. I never saw you there! How did you find me?"

"Well, it wasn't easy to find you, no thanks to you!" she said. "I left you a note..." "It said 'Gone to San Antonio'... nothing more! Do you have any idea how many hotels there are in San Antonio? Well, there are a lot. And they kept throwing me out of the lobbies, saying I wasn't appropriately dressed! Imagine!" I said, "You've got to admit that your attire... well let's just say it doesn't leave much to the imagination. And anyway, how did you get down there?" "Imagination??!!" she said apparently ignoring my question, "I wasn't aware that you mortals had any of that! I often have an extremely hard time convincing musicians, especially drunken Navy musicians, that I'm not just a chemically induced hallucination. How did I get down there? A friend suggested... (You have a 'friend'? I interjected) Don't be a smart-ass! Of course I have a friend. My friend, of which I have many," she said over the top of her glasses as though daring me to object, "suggested that I take the 'A' train. (and she explained in response to my look of disbelief) It's a magical train, a lot like the one that travels to Hogwarts. It can take us Ladies of Various Lakes and other magical, mystical, musical beings literally anywhere we desire.

"So I took the 'A' train to San Antonio and finally found you at the Doubletree Airport. You didn't see me precisely because I didn't want to be seen. I hid in the ice-water dispenser in the 'small stores' where they were selling t-shirts and such. And oh, by the way, it would have been nice of you to buy me a t-shirt for future use. Maybe then I wouldn't be thrown out of so many hotel lobbies. At any rate, I hid in the ice-water dispenser (and it was quite cold, thank you very much for asking) and listened to all the jamming going on in the bar next door. I must say that you comported yourself nicely." "Comported??" I asked. "Yes, 'comported'. I could have said 'played' or 'performed' but I like to have options when I speak." "Yeah," I said, "I know... I get that a lot from my wife."

"Don't interrupt," she continued, "And I hitched a ride home with you by hiding in your wife's ubiquitous water bottle. So I've come, this morning, to say to you that, after listening to you play (there, are you satisfied now?) that I think you have what it takes to make at least a modest income playing jazz. I now give you another quest. And you should blog about it, it helps me get new clients. Your quest is to search for the right venues in which to perform good music. Oh, you can play some 'crap', as you call it, on bass, just to get your name around, but I expect you to find such a jazz venue. And I give you a time limit. Before the next NMA Annual Reunion I will expect you to find such a venue and make at least a little money playing there.

"That wasn't so difficult, now was it?" "No. Not too difficult," I admitted, "Say, do I get another gift?" "I was coming to that," she said, "My stars and gardens but you mortals are an impatient lot! I shall send you a bass guitar like no other, and you shall call it 'George'!" "George??" I asked, "Rather an odd name for a bass, isn't it?" She went on to explain, "'George' was my favorite pet catfish who sadly ended up becoming breakfast for some mortal. I was asleep at the time or I would have turned the fisherman into a great worm to give the fish in Lake Taneycomo something to chew on."

"Well," she said with a glance at her Rolex, "Time to get on with some other bits of magical, mystical, musical responsibilities. So-and-so needs a new set of strings, what-his-name has no gigs on the calendar... the list is endless." "Wait a minute," I said, "What about the bass? I mean 'George'?" "Patience, mortal," she thundered, "You shall have it well before the autumn leaves drift past your window. Time for you to practice. As for me, I've got to get out of town!" and with that, she vanished.

Keep Coming Back

From the Editor:

Another reminder to keep visiting my blog. I post something new every few days. And it just keeps getting dumber and dumber, so if you're a chowder-head, zipper-head, or numb skull like me (I'm one of my most faithful readers) you'll get more bang for your buck here than at a psychic vampire website (strangely enough, there are such things and they have lots of websites).

If you've read my blog and want still more laffs, check out Frank Mullen's blog "Navy Lyres". There is a link in the side-bar (which has been sanitized and a little paper wrapper for your protection).

PLEASE BOOKMARK MY PAGE. BETTER YET, JOIN FACEBOOK AND REQUEST TO BE MY "FRIEND". EVERY TIME I POST A NEW ENTRY, I ALWAYS SEND OUT A POSTING ON FACEBOOK.

TTFN, John Derby (that's Klownspeak for Ta-Ta For Now)