EVIL MISTRESS: A Lifelong Affair with Music, Part Eleven

Photo: The Family Lotus

Read Part One

“Have I gone mad?”

“I’m afraid so, you are entirely bonkers, but I will tell you a secret… all the best people are!”

– The Cheshire Cat

Jayebird and I, our 9-year-old son Tait (and our little dog, Toto) had scrambled down a rabbit hole into a chaotic, dreamlike world where everything is illogical. A place smackdab in the middle of the Land of Enchantment. But, in reality, it is a state of mind called Santa Fe, New Mexico… a real wonderland.

Evidently, my Evil Mistress had transformed into a white rabbit!

The first group I joined in Santa Fe was the legendary psychedelic Folk-Rock band…

Family Lotus: “Fifteen Years on the Green Chile Circuit!” (A slogan from the early eighties.)

The venerable band had a big following of friendly ‘flamingos and hedgehogs’ who enjoyed getting lost in the energetic, eclectic music. It was a fun band! (Way too much fun.) It is said that they enjoyed playing their many instrumentals because “it’s so easy to remember the words.”

The two stand-outs in the Family were Texas guitarist, singer/songwriter, Jerry Faires and world-music electric banjo master and lead guitarist, Jim Bowie. (Jim hailed from Oklahoma, but we never held that against him.) I became fast friends with these gentlemen who I now consider big brothers ‒ just like a real family.

One of our first gigs was at the Taos Ski Valley. We had an ongoing conversation the whole trip up. At one point Jerry and Jim were talking about having recorded with Delaney, Bonnie and Friends back in 1972. I perked up and announced that I’d seen Delaney and Bonnie that year in concert at the Greer Garson Theater at the College of Santa Fe. “We opened that Show,” yelled Jerry, “that was us!” I had forgotten the name, Family Lotus, but remembered them as being a really righteous band. “I was on acid that night,” I volunteered. Jim smiled and exclaimed: “I was too!”

I remember that crazy night vividly. I had moved out to Tijeras Canyon, east of Albuquerque, to live with my Army buddy, Hatch Haskins. That evening we had piled into his big step van with three or four other guys and girls – all of us tripping on LSD. We ventured up Highway 14 to the Ancient City. The concert was sensational, but on the way back home we hit a big buck just past Golden, NM. After recovering from the shock, we jumped out and somehow removed the fallen warrior from the roadway. An unforgettable “trip” from start to finish.

And now… I was with the Family Lotus on the road to Taos. What a delightful coincidence.

Jerry is in his eighties now, but has the energy and spirit of a much younger man. Throughout the years, we’ve always kept in touch. He’s the same good-natured person I knew back in the 80s. And I’ve never seen a frown on that handsome mug of his.

Jerry Faires is a songwriter extraordinaire. He wrote the song “D-18” about his trusty old Martin guitar. Recorded by Tony Rice and Norman Blake, it got to number three on the bluegrass charts. Of course, my friend is a man of many anecdotes and can go on forever recalling interesting tales and famous acquaintances, but I’m not writing a biography – not yet, anyway.

Jim was another story. He was much more complicated, prone to manic episodes similar to mine. He and I were wired for partying and carousing. It’s our nature… and our downfall.

I’ve been thinking back about the sunny days with Family Lotus. One particular night we were playing at a restaurant/bar on Cerrillos Road in Santa Fe when the lights went out. Some fool in a hot-rod had hit a power pole down the street and we were suddenly without electricity. Did that little inconvenience stop us? Hell, no. We simply moved from the stage down into the audience. They cleared a space in the middle of the room and we played acoustically, in the round. I set up a snare drum and hi-hat and played with brushes, Jerry and Jim played acoustic guitar and banjo, Hugh Hazelrigg played his cello as bass, and the incomparable Bobby Notkoff (formerly with Mike Bloomfield and Buddy Miles) on violin. The management brought out table candles and we struck up the band. A very intimate and memorable gig indeed. (And these guys could play!)

Another time, at the Tack Room on St. Francis, we were playing our last song of the night. For a brilliant finale, I tossed all my drums out onto the dance floor. That brought down the house but, unfortunately, they demanded an encore. (Oh, no. I had to setup my drums again. Dammit!)

One Sunday morning in the late 80s I was rushing back to Santa Fe from Ruidoso where I had played three nights with the Ravin’ Brothers. A cop of Spanish descent pulled me over in Encino. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked gruffly. “I’m going to Santa Fe to play a concert with Jerry Faires and Flaco Jiménez,” I said. “I’m just gonna make it.” The cop suddenly changed his demeanor: “Flaco Jiménez? E-e-e-e, my God! Well, you get on your way and have a good show. But drive carefully.”

I showed up at the outdoor concert site at Fort Marcy Park with time to spare. We played a great show for a large audience of happy Santa Feans and ex-Tejanos. (By the way, Flaco was terrific! And the two of us emptied more than a few Budweiser long necks after the show.)

Jerry is also a world class silversmith and many years ago created bracelets for my wife and me. Jayebird wears her Faires bracelet every time she goes out of the house. He took my old silver baby cup and turned it into a beautiful “squash blossom” bracelet featuring a large Cerrillos turquoise stone. He removed my inscribed name from the cup and soldered it onto the bottom. To top it off, Jerry turned the fancy little handle into a pinkie ring! It seems that everything Jerry touches turns into gold, or in his case – magical silver wonders.

I just tried on my old Family Lotus jacket for size; either it shrank or I expanded. Probably the latter. Whatever.

George Koumantaros: A Cheshire Cat if there ever was one.

Enigmatic George was the owner of the infamous Tack Room. The hip little nook was home to a perpetual “mad tea party” and attracted a cast of eccentric characters worthy of Lewis Carroll. For decades our host was a legend around Santa Fe. He and I became close friends, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that George was close friends with EVERYONE in the city!

George, a consummate genius, played a mean piano. He wrote songs and sang them from the heart. A lot of his music had distinct local charm. One song in particular, “The Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore,” lamented the fact that the Atcheson, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway doesn’t actually stop in Santa Fe anymore. (Sad but true.)

George introduced me to bass player/vocalist, Sal D’Onofrio fresh in from Jersey. The three of us formed a solid little jam band that played the Tack Room on a regular basis.

Later, Sal and I would be playing in several working bands together over the years. We’ve got some stories (that shall remain confidential)!

I met a lot of players through George, but my longtime friend, Cliff Thomas, who I knew in Dallas, had been our Santa Fe connection. Cliff, who was a builder, introduced me to his pal ‘Water Bed’ Fred, who in turn connected me with Texas singer/songwriter Dee Moeller. Dee and her soft-spoken husband, Larry, had recently moved to the City Different. Fred was a carpenter, not a musician, but the boy had connections. And this one would pay off in spades.

At one point, George, asked me if he could park his spinet piano at my house. I was honored! A few days later, we moved the enchanted piano into our den. I started writing scores of music as if I was spellbound.

Soon, I had a collection of magical songs, what was to become a full-fledged album: Eat A Chiquita

I owe a debt of gratitude to George Koumantaros. He was one-of-a-kind.

And finally, he grinned ear to ear, and then slowly disappeared . . . nothing left but a smile.