Devils & Blue Dresses: My Wild Ride as a Rock and Roll Legend

anything at all, the place that became the safest for me was the road and the show. But before I could escape to that, Mr. Crewe had one more bit of newsfor me. My movie career was now going to be handled by a woman named Gladys Markowitz.
    During this time I also tried (and to some extent succeeded) to do a good deal of charity work and sponsorship for charitable causes. It was a “feel better about myself” kind of move, but even if it was for selfish reasons, good would come to those who benefitted from it. I became “The Prince of Hearts” for the American Heart Association. Then I flew to St. Louis to meet with Danny Thomas to talk about raising funds for a new hospital he was creating called St. Judes. I performed for our Marines at Paris Island. I lent my name and image to fund raisers for a multitude of diseases. There were many causes a famous person could support. At that time in my life I still cared, and I took pride in being able to help. That would change. Eventually.
    What would soon become my entire world was starting to take shape now. Everything around me seemed crazy and warped, except for the performance. The time on stage. I suppose that non-performers would see it just the opposite. They would say the stage was make believe. A fantasy. While it wasn’t the real world, it was the only thing I could trust, because I could control it.
    I took on a ten-city tour with one of my heroes: Wilson Pickett and his big band. It was just as important symbolically as it was musically because of the horrible race relations in America at that time. It also gave me a chance to go toe-to-toe with one of the men who belonged to a club I was desperately seeking admission to, the R&B masters. We packed mixed audiences into large arenas and the tour was exciting and successful.
    One night I was sitting in the front of Wilson’s tour bus talking to one of his players when Wilson came through the door. He said hello to me then pulled a handgun from his coat and began firing at his drummer in the back of the bus. He cursed with every bullet fired and then, having emptied the gun, turned to me and casually said goodnight as he walked off the bus. My ears were ringing as I spun around to find the drummer curled, shaking and in tears, but alive. I never found out why Wilson did that.
    With the help of my musical director, Jimmy Loomis, and his wonderful arrangements, I started to turn the Bob Crewe Las Vegas eyesore into something of a big band R&B review. We had Howard Bloom on bass; Johnny Siomis, who came over from Chicago Loop and later worked with Peter Frampton, on drums; Frank Invernesi on keyboards (Frank was an ardent golfer); and Doug Rodrigues on guitar. The horn section featured Andy Dio on trumpet and J.D. Crane on trombone. Robert Shipley was on baritone sax. Jimmy Loomis on both alto and baritone sax I would rather forget. It was a well-trained band, but because of the short lived existence of the collaboration, I did not consider it one of the four bands that were major players in my musical and personal life.
    I called my brother Marc, who was singing locally in Detroit, and asked if he would like to join me as a part of the show. The only problem was he would have to leave high school. Marc had a wonderful voice. It was clearer and more polished than mine, and I felt he could do very well as one of the opening acts for the review I was building. I found with my loneliness and separation from the Wheels and my little family of Susan and Dawn, being on the road for what seemed like forever became more bearable with an immediate family member with me.
    To make the review complete, Wilson Pickett pulled a fast one and offered to help by giving me two members of his show. Naturally I was delighted. Not only would I get a good strong female opener, but I would also get her talented husband to handle emcee duties. When I think of Wilson Pickett (or the Wickett Pickett as he was called and spelled it), I think about his stint with the Ohio Players and his performance of “I Found Love.” I also remember him as the man who introduced me to the Apollo Theater in Harlem. But now I could also think of him as the man who dumped one of his problems in my lap.
    As my show evolved and grew larger over the months, so did my newly acquired opening female singer. I let her stay until Wilson said she could no longer perform, and then she and her husband thanked me and walked away. Wilson wouldn’t have a pregnant