I HAD “RESERVATIONS” ABOUT THIS GIG

Published by Rick on Tagged Uncategorized

In trying to find stories about significant events in my career where I either met celebrities or had some other moment of glory, I always have to remember that the not so stellar experiences can be just as intriguing. This one definitely falls into the latter category, and while it didn’t happen exactly 20 years ago this week, we’ll expand the horizons to talk about something that happened in late January 2002.

After finishing my first year of working UK and not scheduled to head back there until the end of January, I had a fairly good run of gigs during that US stretch. I finished off 2001 with a well paying and well attended gig on New Years Eve in Oceanside, CA, plus I was officially moving out of Los Angeles in mid-January, 21 years after moving there. During my time in LA, the multi-Grammy-Award-winning R&B singer Alicia Keys was born, grew up, and got famous, just to put things in perspective.

Before I headed back to UK, I got a call from a booker who booked Rick and Ruby many times in our final years before we called a halt, and continued to book me solo, mostly in Northern and Central California. He also had earned a black mark on my trust list by setting my personal all-time record between date of doing the gig and actually getting paid for it, Two Years and Four Months!
I already done my share of besmirching his name when he finally called out of the blue to say he was sending me the check for this nearly forgotten gig.

Now he was calling to offer me a gig at one of the casinos on an Indian reservation about 40 miles from the city of Ukiah, in Mendocino County, 120 miles north of San Francisco. His timing was good, as it would happen only a week before I was due to fly back to UK. Though casinos are largely limited throughout California as to what sort of gambling is within state guidelines, the reservations are considered private land, so they don’t have such restrictions. They can have slot machines, roulette wheels, craps tables, poker, all the things that Nevada has, they’re just out in the middle of nowhere. Hard core gamblers don’t mind the inconvenience.

As the booker was describing the gig (which he assured me he would attend the second night and pay me the full amount in cash!), there seemed to be no incentive. There was no lodging at the casino, so I’d have to commute from Ukiah and stay in a hotel. I would do two 45-minute sets for four nights in the snack bar, which was not insulated from the rest of the casino, so the electronic noise would be working against me. I would not get any free meals or drinks. There was no emcee to speak of, just me and a brass band alternating sets each night. Profanity or innuendo, as well as any opinions too politically left, were not allowed. The pay was good, thank god for that, because the more I asked the booker about the situation, the worse it sounded, to where I finally asked him, “Will I have any fun at this gig?” to which he rather unemotionally said, “Oh sure, you’ll have fun.” He didn’t elaborate any further.

Well, his definition of fun wasn’t exactly congruous with my definition. The emcee would bring me up with this rousing intro, while people were wolfing down their burgers and fries so they could go back to losing money: “Good evening, folks, welcome to our show. And now here’s the comedian!” Didn’t even take the time to learn my freaking name! He got better as the nights plodded on, working his way up to “Good evening folks, welcome to our show. And now here’s Rick Right the comedian.” Of the eight sets I did those four nights, I think there was only one where I felt there was enough of an audience to actually do something resembling my regular comedy set. The rest of the time it was just struggling for attention, let alone response. My mantra became “(X) down, (Y) to go” after that first night.

I still felt worse for the brass band, a very nice group of middle aged guys who got even less response than I did. It was really a good thing they were there, for they at least came to watch and support me almost every set. They enjoyed playing stump the band, and there were times they were the only ones paying any attention to me at all. We cried on each other’s shoulders about what a hellish gig this was. I would in return watch their sets every night as well. I never asked, but I got the impression they were getting the same amount of money as I was, though they had to split it five ways, and unless they all lived in Ukiah, probably had a longer commute than I did. In that respect, I felt even worse for them, for as a band they were actually quite good.

For me personally, the solace came every night when I was leaving the casino and driving back to Ukiah with my car’s CD player (remember when cars had those?) playing the latest Now That’s What I Call Music, Volume 50, which played mostly UK hits, and I was reminded of the new life I and my career had found across the pond. Hearing music by Robbie Williams, Blue, Travis, Mis-Teeq, Lighthouse Family, and other acts that were unknown in the US reminded me of the good times I was having in my new home which would become my permanent home only a couple years later.

Oh yeah, and unlike my previous experience with the booker, he did actually show up the night he said he would, and paid me the entire amount in cash. On a monetary level, it was good that I gave him one more chance, but thankfully, I never had to give him another.

March 20th, 2022



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