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April 1998
"Once more, ladies and gentlemen," the Master of Ceremonies called out from the far edge of the stage, "let's hear it for Johnny North and The Hamiltons."
Applause filled the Blue Diamond Lounge as the band's middle aged frontman stepped to the front to acknowledge the accolade. At sixty-two, Johnny North, better known these days as John Robert North Sr., little resembled the up and coming artist who had seen a couple of singles make it to the charts back in the early sixties. His hair was thinner and mostly gray, plus he weighed a good forty pounds more than in his prime. But he still loved to play and now, having taken an early retirement package, he'd gotten the band back together. Well, maybe not exactly.
Back in the summer of sixty-one, when they'd first appeared here at the Blue Diamond, it had been himself, Tony Collins, Eddie Carrington, Carl Grant and Steve Walsh, all recent graduates of Fort Hamilton High School. Now it was just him and Eddie Carrington. They'd lost Carl in Vietnam, and a heart attack had taken Steve Walsh a decade ago. Tony Collins moved out of Brooklyn after getting married and no one was quite sure where he lived now.
So, playing aside from him and Eddie, were a bunch of kids who hadn't even been born when The Hamiltons were in their heyday. At times, that made Johnny feel like an old man, but he balanced that with the thought that without them there wouldn't be a band at all. And wasn't that what was really important -- that the music went on?
As the crowd began to break up into smaller groups and the band started to gather up their gear, Johnny stood at the edge of the stage and thought back to what once almost was. It had been the fall of '63, and all of their hard work, coupled with a stroke of luck, had finally led to their big break. A friend of a friend had managed to interest the producer of a popular television variety show in one of their songs, and he had liked it enough to book them as a replacement act for the weekend before Thanksgiving.
Unfortunately, history had other plans and their appearance, along with everything else that weekend, was preempted by the non-stop coverage of President Kennedy's funeral. It was tough luck, the producer had said, promising to see what he could do about rescheduling them later in the season. But then came the British Invasion in early '64, changing the face of music and sweeping away a number of promising groups -- The Hamiltons among them.
"Good set, Johnny," Bobby Tyler said as he came up to the band's founder, handing him a bottle of beer he'd picked up from the bar.
The blond haired twenty year old, dressed in the same black t-shirt and jeans as the rest of the band, played bass guitar and was quite good at it. So good in fact that Johnny had wondered during his audition why he wanted to waste his talent with a band that was just an imitation of the original, instead of one that might go places. Bobby's answer was that he loved the music. His Aunt Nina, he added, had been one of the band's early fans and played their records so often that she wore them out. But not before Bobby had learned to play along with all of them.
Johnny had laughed when the young man had said that, pointing out that the band's entire discography consisted only of six songs, only three of which had charted. Still, behind that smile, he had been impressed.
"Thanks, kid," Johnny said as he took a sip from the bottle, falling back on his old habit of calling nearly everyone under fifty, kid. "You going to hang around for the party?"
Johnny had arranged a party in the back room to celebrate the band's return to the Blue Diamond. A celebration he was looking forward to more than he had his retirement party of a few months before.
"I wasn't planning on it," Bobby replied. "It's been a long day and I'm a bit tired."
"Suite yourself, but think about what you might be missing," the singer said with a broad grin. "There'll be a lot of women there, some of whom still get turned on by the old music. A good looking kid like you probably wouldn't have a hard time getting laid."
Bobby agreed that the crowd had been quite enthusiastic, but, while he'd heard of wild things happening at afterparties, he somehow doubted that would be the case with this one. Looking out at the crowd during the performance, he had seen a great many female faces, but few under thirty. In fact, if he were to hazard a guess, he'd have put the average age of the audience at around fifty.
"I still think I'll pass," Bobby repeated.
" Suit yourself, kid, but..." Johnny started to say, only to be interrupted as someone called his name from the bottom of the steps at the left side of the stage.
The reaction on Johnny's face as he turned in that direction suggested that he knew the woman standing there. In any event, he cut his discussion with Bobby short and bounced down the steps to greet the apparent fan.
Bobby watched as the redheaded woman, who like so many of Johnny's fans was also middle-aged, threw her arms around the singer and gave him a kiss. Johnny then slipped his arm around her waist and together they walked off in the direction of the back room where the party was going to be held.
"Maybe Johnny at least is going to get lucky," Bobby chuckled as, after taking a last taste of his beer, he laid the still half full bottle on a nearby box and headed for the small staircase himself.
Bobby had meant it when he'd said it'd been a long day. Before coming down to the lounge to play with the band, he'd spent eight hours putting up sheetrock at his day job. Crashing in front of the television might not be the most exciting way to end a Friday night, but it beat spending his time searching for something that wasn't going to happen.
The Blue Diamond had been pretty much filled to capacity and it took a bit of effort on Bobby's part to make his way to the front door. He'd just about gotten there when he caught sight of a face in the crowd that looked familiar. He couldn't be sure, it had only been a quick glimpse, but the possibility was enough for him to turn back for a second look. With the crowd constantly shifting, that proved easier said than done, but he finally spotted her again, at least from the back, and made his way toward the short haired brunette.
"Mrs. Davenport?" he said, making it a question in case he'd been wrong.
The woman, her back still to him, stood three inches shorter than his own five ten and weighed around a hundred and fifty pounds. Turning in response to his inquiry, she seemed confused as to who the young man calling her name was, at least initially.
"Oh my lord, Bobby Tyler," she then said in surprise as she recognized him.
Cora Davenport had been his Aunt Nina's best friend, or -- as they liked to refer to each other -- her partner in crime. They had grown up on the same block and had been practically inseparable until Nina's death two years ago. Bobby hadn't seen Cora since the funeral.
"I almost didn't recognize you, what with the beard and all," Cora said, "but I like it, it suits you. Makes you look even more handsome."
Bobby smiled, thinking as he reflexively ran a hand across his tightly trimmed facial hair that she still looked pretty good herself. Cora and his aunt had been the same age, so that made her fifty-four now. There were a few gray strands in her light brown hair and a couple of new age lines, but overall she was just like he remembered. The green print blouse she was wearing was cut just low enough to show off a remarkable bust without being too scandalous, and the just-below-the-knees black skirt only added to the effect.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I'm in the band," he said, surprised that she hadn't seen him on the stage.
"Really?" she said, only now noticing the black shirt he was wearing. "That's wonderful. Your aunt would've been so proud; she really loved The Hamiltons back in the day."
Cora went on to say that she'd arrived late, thus missing the introductions, and had only been able to find a seat all the way in the back. It was close enough to enjoy the music but not to get a good look at the performers.
"How have you been?" Bobby asked after saying that at least she got to hear them play.
"Oh, hanging in there," Cora smiled. "You know what they say, any day above ground..."
Her face suddenly turned white as she paused in mid-sentence, realizing what a terrible thing that had been to say.
