I Should Have Been a rock Star- Rocking inutero

Summer 1987

Ashley and I had just been married since January. We were definitely a broke couple of newlyweds…. With her taking classes in Tulsa, and me teaching and coaching. We counted pennies ad lived in what we referred to as the slave quarters on Westland Road in Sapulpa. WE moved out of my bachelor duplex into an inexpensive rental just outside of town owned b a local man, Mr. Yocham. He had bought a bunch of flood damaged homes, tore out the walls, re-sheetroocked them and moved them all onto a dirt road on a hill just outside of town.

It was cheap. That was one of our objectives. W only had one car between us. We had sold Ashley’s car to help finance the upcoming birth of our first child. I spent many days of that spring semester riding a bicycle to and from school since Ash needed the car to go to classes in Tulsa.

Summer arrived, and the heat melted over our poor slave quarters without the defense of any air-conditioning. I was fairly acclimated to the heat, but Ashley and her increasing pregnancy were less welcoming of the usual white-hot summer days of Oklahoma.

In need of some escape from the day to day of doing without, we managed to pool enough money for the two of us to attend an outdoor concert at the River pavilion in Tulsa. Local Rock legend Leon Russell was scheduled to perform an early evening concert on the floating stage with special guest Edgar Winter. An interesting pair, Leon with his long flowing graying hair and beard singing and playing with the albino musician Edgar Winter. I had seen Edgar’s Brother Johnny at a concert once before as he ground out blues licks in front of long haired crowd allowed to grace the seats of the Tulsa performing Arts Theater for the first and only time. Apparently a crowd who still tried to light up I the darkness of the rock concert was not as appreciated by the management of a theater usually reserved for Broadway style sows.

The evening arrived. Ashley and I drove to Tulsa, parked in a lot that seemed to be miles and miles away for a pregnant woman. We ambled toward the floating stage and terraced seating that faced the stage from the shore. There we sat, so newly married that our rings were untarnished and giddy with the anticipation of a night of musical entertainment. Ashley was never as big a fan as I was of Leon and his music, but I know now that she wanted to please her new husband. Sweet of her, but not something I ever expect her to have to do. But, it was something that we got to do together at a time when we had to scrape change together to eat cheap Chinese food from the cheapest place in town, China Express.

We hustled to sit as close as possible, making our way down the steps toward the stage. We ended up seated to the left front of the stage, on the concrete steps which rose behind us to become the amphitheater. We sat, waiting as the pre-concert music played over the sound system. Slowly, the crowd shuffled in, a collection of older local hippies and younger fans wearing a variety of concert shirts from bands popular I the 80’s.

Finally, the MC stepped to the microphone to welcome the crowd. The fans rose up to cheer as Leon walked on stage, long white hair flowing from under a white cowboy hat to mingle with his long white beard. He wore reflector shades to block the late afternoon sun. he waved to the crowd and sat, without a word to begin playing that old familiar style of his honed straight from honkytonks and church revivals. Leon moaned and pounded the keyboard, taking me back to times I had sat in the pews of the all black church in Sterling, Kansas while my friend, Dash, preached up a rockin’ storm.

After a few songs, Leon introduced his special guest, Edgar Winter, who played several of his own songs, including “Frankenstein” and “Free Ride.” It was during his set, while he wailed away on sax, that Ashley grabbed my arm, distressed look on her face. “Something is going on with the baby,” she whispered in my ear.

“The baby is moving… A LOT!” she told me, hand on her protruding belly. “I’m afraid the vibrations might be hurting him! Maybe we should move.”

We gathered our things and moved away from the stage. We walked up the terraces, to stand at the top of the amphitheater on a grassy knoll overlooking the concert. There, we sat in the grass waiting to see if the baby settled down.

Finally, Ashley looked less troubled. The baby had stopped his internal somersaults and settled back into nocturnal bliss. I refer to the baby as ‘him,’ but at that time we did not know his sex. We usually just referred to him as “Baby Who.”

We sat through the remainder of the concert, further away from the effects of a pounding bass and high pitched sax. The seats were still good and the music still great, but apparently the distance was more to Baby Who’s liking.

Ashley was worried that the baby might be adversely affected by the music vibrations, but knowing Fletch today, and the music fan he became? I prefer to think that the baby was getting into the beat, and doing a little mosh pit of his own. After all, the boy did learn to play the trombone and the guitar, so maybe those early Leon vibes altered his brain chemistry ad made him into a musician?

A coupe, of years ago, Fletch did go to a Leon concert with me. We watched Leon open ad Joe Cocker finish the show. Both old-timers, but what they played was timeless… and Fletch was there , tapping is foot and bouncing in rhythm to the music again.