A funny story from my years as a singer. nbspI wanted to diversify my act and decided I would write a standup routine. nbsp After all I was the Leader and Creator of my life. nbsp I had to conquer my last frontier in show business. nbsp I had to cross my Rubicon. I was scared. Yes I was a good adlibber on stage but becoming a standup comic nbspMe nbspWith my Italian accent and allJust the fact I sang country songsnbspasnbspnbspGiovanni Cash nbspand they called me The Spaghetti Cowboy was enough to make them laugh why would I chastise myself with thinking I should become a standup comedianBut what is life without a new dreamnbspnbspMy wife tried to dissuade me. What did she knownbsp I thought. nbspI was the one in show business And she liked the paychecks. . . nbsp But one never to say never I studiously researched the theme that would separate me from the masses and give me my branding. nbsp nbspJohnny Carson would certainly call. . . one daynbspThe Spaghetti Cowboy nbspI could hear him say. Book himBut I would have to pay my dues first. That was law. I knew it. After agonizing months I decided to go back to my roots and talk about Italian life from a male perspective. nbsp Ohhh. . . the ladies will love that nbspI thought. Then I started rehearsing what was supposed to be my very first five minutes of standup which had taken me a herculean effort to condense from the first original draft of my. . . War and Peace comedic saga. nbsp Male Italian life is very complex with its individual psychological twists and turns. But like all goals I had a deadline and come hell or high water the night was fast approaching. I was playing at the Red Lion in Jantzen Beach on the river in Portland. nbsp A classy hotel. Coincidentally that night Duke Ellington's nbspbig band was playing in the ballroom. The crowd was chic. The end of my second set arrived. The beginning of the third set around midnight was to be my debut. I was sipping on a cold soda to soothe the dry throat that was beginning to bother me. I stepped on stage. . . slung my guitar over. . . had few giggles with some patrons up front and. . . I crossed my Rubicon. nbspThere was silence. nbspnbspnbsp Then a muffled giggle somewhere beyond the lights. . . then sweat began pouring down my face. Then. . . holy cannolinbspFrom way back at the bar. . . the guttural sound of a patron who's life had suffered a fatal blow that very same day to require some potent libations at the very same place I was performing. . . NOOO nbspIt could not happen. . . NOT to menbsp Not tonightnbsp nbspWHYYYYYnbspBut the blownbsp that still resounds in my ears today and knocked me forever out of comedy was dealt to me with the cunning fury of a lion sinking its teeth into the neck of a gazelle. nbsp It was a mortal blowAhshut up and singAlthough I could not make it as a standup comedian I ended up traveling the world as a singer and played the best venues in Las Vegas for 23 yearsnbsp I guess the guy was rightnbsp God bless him.

• published: 29 Apr 2015
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