Formation - Evolution

The precursor to The Swinging Machine (The Chevelles) was formed in 1963 by several friends from Oscar F. Smith High School in South Norfolk (now Chesapeake).  The band met with little success, but three members Evan Pierce, Jr (lead guitar), Richard (Dick) H. Bocock (drums), and W. Steven (Steve) Curling (saxophone) didn’t let that cool their interest in rock and roll.  Evan had the good fortune to meet Esdras ben Lubin at Old Dominion University (at that time Old Dominion College), where they became friends and, eventually, roommates at an off-campus apartment.  Esdras was with the group The Wanderers as lead guitar, but was looking for a change.  Evan was only too happy to hand over lead guitar duties to Esdras and switch to bass with the creation of a new group.  Esdras didn’t care for the name Chevelles (naming bands after hot cars had been the rage but was passe) and suggested that we use the title of a tune by Mose Allison: Swingin' Machine.  While The Chevelles had played a lot of west coast surfer tunes, Esdras expanded the repertoire of The Swinging Machine with songs by the likes of Ray Charles, James Brown, and other black artists.  TSM became well known playing for fraternity parties at ODU, with Esdras providing vocals and our renditions of the tunes of black artists became their favorites.

A keystone of the sound of the black groups was the organ, so TSM began the search for an organist. After trying several organists (essentially anyone who had an organ), beneficent lightning struck when Billy Gene Stallings (another South Norfolk native) sat in.  He was an immediate hit with other band members, fitting in both musically and socially.  Bill was a classically trained, award winning pianist and his experience, knowledge of music theory and keen ear enabled the group to precisely mimic the music of other artists.  To a great extent, that ability to “get the notes right” would be largely responsible for the future popularity of TSM.  Esdras and Evan often smuggled Bill into a bar in downtown Norfolk (Bunny’s Trade Winds Lounge) to listen to a great three piece black group: Willie Burnell and the Shades.  Willie was the best organ player (Hammond of course) in Tidewater at the time, and Bill, who had never studied organ, picked up a lot of technique listening to and watching him.

The drawback of the addition of Bill Stallings to the group was that 1. he was only fifteen years old, and 2. his mother was opposed to him playing rock and roll.  The group was still playing frat (keg) parties and bars outside of the main gate of the Norfolk Naval Base on Hampton Boulevard, where Bill’s mere presence was illegal.  He became adept at finding hiding places when anyone came in who resembled vice squad policemen (for some reason they always wore sport coats, white shirts and ties back then).  We never asked how he handled the situation with his mother (he probably bribed her with the promise of more classical piano practice), but there would have been hell to pay if she had found out the truth while he was still a minor.

TSM maintained this configuration for probably a year or so until Esdras decided to move on.   That left Evan, Dick, Steve and Bill looking for new band members.  They were able to connect with Gary H. Richardson (vocals) and lead guitarist Lee Caraway (both formerly of The Villagers).  At about the same time Steve decided the band was not for him.  With Bob Fisher becoming the replacement saxophonist (and later Wayne Richardson - sideman on trumpet), the group was set for its best performances.  

With the British Invasion, another music genre was added to the group’s repertoire, but soul music was a big favorite of fans.  Gary’s amazing vocals ranged from the Hollies (Dear Eloise) to James Brown (I’ll Go Crazy), with Lee and Bob doing the backup vocals.  Lee’s guitar work provided great renditions of Eric Clapton, Dave Davies, and later Jimi Hendrix.  For some reason audiences went wild when Gary did I’ll Go Crazy, completely copying James Brown’s stage act with the swinging microphone stand and falling to his knees, to be comforted and led off by Bob.  We thought it was crazy that audiences would enjoy watching a blond haired white guy mimic The Godfather of Soul, but they couldn't get enough!

Teen dances featuring that dreaded new beast (rock and roll) at high school gyms, national guard armories, Shriner and Freemason facilities, and private clubs became the mainstay of the band’s engagement calendar.  Radio station WNOR sponsored a Battle of the Bands at the Norfolk Arena which TSM won (diehard fans - mostly female fans from Portsmouth - stuffed the ballot box), bringing more notoriety.  There was no lack of work.  The group bought a trailer and hired a crew (notably Bert Jersild and Bob Everett) to move and set up equipment.  For important holidays such as New Years Eve, it was not uncommon for the group to get $2,000 for a four hour gig; however, $1,000 to $1,500 was the norm for three to four hours.  The repertoire was constantly upgraded with new tunes the moment they hit the charts.  The addition of obscure soul tunes surprised fans and kept them interested.  Gary would have to sit for hours trying to understand song lyrics from vinyl records, which suffered scratches from having the needle constantly moved by hand.


Performances at Virginia Beach’s “Dome”

TSM was the opening act for The Byrds when they appeared at the Dome.  Somehow we ended up using the same dressing room that they used.  Roger McGuinn and David Crosby sat in chairs and stared at the floor, barely saying a word.  McGuinn was already sporting the exotic spectacles shtick that Elton John would later make more popular.   They were both a real drag, and it was a forgettable experience.

TSM was the opening act for Sir Douglas Quintet when they appeared at the Dome.  She’s About A Mover had already topped out on the charts.  They were nice guys.  Especially Augie, their keyboard player.  He played a Farfisa Organ, which he used to create that strange, almost synthetsized sound.

TSM was the opening act for The Beach Boys when they appeared at the Dome.  Dennis Wilson was their drummer at that time.  Brian Wilson had just had a major health breakdown and an unknown session guitarist was filling in for him on bass and vocals: Glen Campbell.  Our dressing room was on the right side of the stage, and The Beach Boys were on the left.  A metal security door guarded by a uniformed policeman led from the dressing room to the parking lot, and a hoard of female teenyboppers were beating on the door and screaming for their heartthrob, Dennis Wilson.  They began passing pieces of paper under the door, begging for his autograph.  Never ones to disappoint fans, we dutifully signed “Dennis Wilson” on the scraps of paper and passed them back under the door to the happy screams of thirteen and fourteen year old girls.  When we had to go on stage, the policeman took over the autograph chore.  I’ve often wondered how many women have shown off “Dennis Wilson’s” autograph in a scrapbook over the years, not knowing they were scribbled by a rent-a-cop.  

There were two shows with The Beach Boys that day, and between sets Bill wowed Dennis Wilson with his keyboard ability as they talked about music.  Dennis wanted to learn keyboards. There was nothing new about Bill wowing listeners.  When we would play a gig sponsored by some sort of women’s league, there would often be scowls aimed at us (by this time we had adopted the long hair look) from the mothers of the little dears.  As soon as Bill’s electric piano was ready, he would begin a “sound test” by playing Chopin’s Fantasie Impromptu in C Sharp Minor.  The attitude of the mothers did an immediate about-face as they gathered round Bill to watch, listen, marvel and adore him.


Princess Anne High School Stadium - Dave Clark Five

TSM was on the bill at Princess Anne High School Stadium when The Dave Clark Five headlined a show there.  Other artists included The Strangeloves and Tommy Roe.  During the afternoon, while we were rehearsing on stage, Tommy Roe pulled up alone in a big convertible, with his guitar in the back seat.  He was there to do a solo act, but, after hearing us he asked us to back him up during the show, which we did.  I remember we did Sheila and Everybody.  We had never been big Tommy Roe fans.  We considered his tunes to be “bubble gum music”, i. e. music teenyboppers listened to.

That evening the weather was drizzling rain.  A trailer had been pulled up at the back of the stage and that was the dressing room for the DC5.  When the show was over, we were standing at the rear of the trailer as the door opened and the DC5 slipped quietly into a waiting limousine and pulled away unnoticed by fans who were filing out of the stadium in quite orderly fashion.  Lee decided that “quietly” was not a proper send-off and began yelling “There they go!, “They’re in that car!”, “The Dave Clark Five!”  The car was immediately surrounded as hundreds of screaming fans rushed the limo.  A canine cop, who had been watching the quiet exodus of fans, was jerked off his feet and drug across the wet grass on his back as his dog lurched toward the sudden rush of people.  Lee was quite pleased by the chaos he had inspired; we thought it was hilarious.


The Canaries

The summer of 1964(?), one of the Virginia Beach nightclubs brought over a group from the Canary Islands, predictably called The Canaries.  Teddy was their vocalist and Rafa was the drummer.  As I recall, they were the only members of the group who spoke understandable English.  They had a house on 18th Street(?) and TSM hung out at the Beach with them much of the summer during their extended engagement.


The Ambassadors’ Club, Portsmouth Catholic High School, Portsmouth Knights of Columbus

TSM had a really strong fan base in Portsmouth.  Gary and Lee were recent graduates of Churchland High School, and we played for a student assembly there, gathering a great deal of support which later helped at the "Battle of the Bands".  TSM probably returned to The Ambassadors’ Club, Portsmouth Catholic HS, and KofC  (all Portsmouth locations) more often than any other venue.  The management and fans were great at all three places.  Four band members ended up marrying girls from Portsmouth.  (Jerry Meyers, a Portsmouth policeman who provided the only security for The Ambassadors’ Club for years, had the best disposition for handling unruly kids that we ever saw.)



The Casino - "Ras Wescott’s East Coast Lounge"

TSM played several engagements at The Casino at Nags Head.  There were bunk rooms at the back of the stage, and on one occasion we found Bill Deal and his group living there during an engagement.  Since playing The Casino was typically a multi-night gig, TSM rented a house that would accommodate the entire group.

The stage at The Casino took up almost the entire west end of the building.  It was elevated to the extent that several steps were needed to go from the dance floor level up to the stage.  At the middle, rear of the stage there was an elevated platform where the drummers usually set up their kits.  Directly to the rear of that platform was a set of steps which led down to the backstage area.  Dick had had a special stool made which matched his drum set.  It was a cylinder with a padded seat on one end (top) and three stubby legs on the other (bottom).  A trap door on the bottom allowed him to store drumsticks and other small items in the stool for easy transport.  However, the three stubby legs didn’t provide the most stable of seating platforms.  One evening I noticed the tempo of a number was slowing and speeding, slowing and speeding.  I turned to look at Dick, and it was obvious from his swaying that he had consumed too much beer.  As I watched him wobble on the tiny, unstable seat, he finally leaned too far to the rear and tumbled seat and all off the riser, down the stairs, and into the dressing area.  Ras noticed the commotion and was not amused.  In fact, it was all we could do to convince him that Dick shouldn’t be put in jail.  Bob Weaver (who was to become a future member of TSM) sat in for Dick for the rest of the evening.


Sour Notes

We played a gig at the Nansemond Hotel in Ocean View which was sponsored by some frat guys from ODU.  A big fight broke out, and a dozen or more policemen were called to the scene.  The ballroom had elegant old floor to ceiling windows, and people were throwing chairs through them.  Because we were beginning to let our hair grow long, we were afraid that we'd become involved in the melee; however, one of Norfolk's feared Sims brothers stayed near the stage and no one wanted to mess with him.

We played a dance gig at an all-girls’ school in Delaware.  The school administration was surly toward us and the whole concept of a dance from the beginning.  The girls were starved for "male companionship". About half way through the gig, a chaperone found a couple “misbehaving” in a car in the parking lot, and they called the rest of the dance off.


SPQR Records

When we met Frank Guida, he was working out of a three room store front near “five points” in Norfolk.  He had a nice reel to reel tape recorder and a few microphones and that was about it.  Bare concrete block walls, no mixing board, no sound baffles, nothing else, but we were excited because he had recorded several tunes that had made the charts.  To our great disappointment, TSM’s relationship with Frank was difficult and unsuccessful.   Frank’s early success in the record business was based on his “live-sound” technique of recording The Church Street Five and Gary Bonds.  Unfortunately for us, Frank wanted TSM to sound like that, which was impossible.  The instrumentation, arrangements, and talents of TSM was more suited to a Phil Spector, “wall of sound” treatment.  The recording sessions were often contentious, and the group lost confidence in Frank early on.  Getting our one and only record finished became a dreaded chore, which we were barely able to complete.  Although we had signed a three record deal with SPQR, we were so disappointed with our first record, we never returned to Frank’s studio.  If TSM had had a choice in the matter, the record would never have been released.

At the time we signed with SPQR, Bill was still under eighteen years of age, so his parents had to sign the contract for him.   The contract had a clause giving SPQR the exclusive right to our recordings; however, Bill’s mother, thinking that he would have a career of classical music recordings, had a clause inserted into his contract stipulating that SPQR would not be involved in any of his classical music endeavors.


800 E. Sparrow Road

Bill's father, Shorty Stallings and his uncle, Elmer, owned a pool hall in South Norfolk appropriately called Triangle Billiards (the two story building was triangular in shape).  There was an apartment on the second floor that was vacant, so Shorty let us use it as a place to practice; however, being on the second floor meant carrying Bill's organ (a Hammond B2) up and down the stairs for every gig.  It was at the apartment that we first met Gary and Lee.  After a brief "get acquainted" practice session, all agreed that they would be the new members of TSM.

Dick’s father, a very successful physician, died at the age of forty-seven (several years before Dick became involved in rock and roll).  Dick, his mother (Virginia), and his younger brother lived in an old mansion on the Elizabeth River in Virginia Beach.   The house sat on three plus acres at the end of a small lane.  It was very secluded, private, and removed.  There was a large, in-ground pool with a pool house.  There was a pier with, initially, a seventy-five foot yacht (a matching fifty foot yacht was under construction on a railway that Dr. Bocock had constructed near the pier).  Mrs. Bocock drove a black, straight-shift, 1959 Ford that was equipped with a Police Interceptor engine.  Virginia wasn’t the “little old lady from Pasadena”, but she took driving lessons from the same instructor.

Virginia was a very tolerant woman who seemed to enjoy the near-chaos of a house full of young adults.  I say this because she let TSM practice at her home.  In fact, many of us almost lived there from time to time. 

Mrs. B loved animals.  She fed eight or ten feral cats that lived someplace on the property.  She adopted a stray dog, which she she could never get to come to her when she called his name.  In frustration, she would always end up yelling, "Come here, damit!"  Of course we all started calling the dog Damit.

And the parties... they were unbelievable.  Most band members and many close friends and fans would head for Dick’s house after a gig, and we’d party until daybreak.  The long driveway and front yard would be covered with cars, many of the owners unknown to us.  I can remember only one rough incident: a guy and a couple of friends came up the driveway making threatening remarks because he thought his former girlfriend was at a party.


End of a Dream

Gary died tragically in 1968, and TSMs dreams of success died with him; the true measure of his talent had not been realized.  The group never found an adequate replacement because Gary was a special talent.  His voice had great range and, when he wanted, depth.  His boyish good looks, smile, and stage presence kept the girls enthralled.  Although he became something of a prima donna in his later years with the band, his vocal ability and crowd pleasing delivery allowed him to get away with it.  Had he lived, the group may well have become Gary and the Swinging Machine or something similar, giving him top billing.  His funeral was the largest I’ve ever attended, and more than one heart-broken girl threw herself on his casket or tossed a memento into his grave.  Like the band and fans, his parents were heartbroken.  He was an only child.


Epilog

Soon after leaving TSM, Esdras Lubin switched to acoustic bass and began a long career with jazz pianist Joe Jones, guitarist Ken Hatfield and others.  Facing the draft, he chose to join the U.S. Army, successfully completed Officer's Candidate School, and became a commissioned officer.  He lives in Connecticut and works with various artists and groups in New York City.   His web site is well worth a look:  www.esdras.com

Steve Curling and I (we were best friends in high school) kept in touch for a number of years after he left TSM, but then lost touch.  To my knowledge, he never played music professionally again.

Lee was a great lead guitarist: versatile, fast, accurate. A couple of us rode to Washington, D.C. one day, where Lee bought the first Rickenbacker twelve string guitar seen in Tidewater.  The Rickenbacker took its place beside Lee’s Fender Jaguar and Fender Dual Showman Amp, all paid for by his parents, who, along with his siblings, were great supporters of Lee and big fans of TSM.  His only local equal on guitar was probably Mike Kerwin of The Rondells.  After Gary’s death and a scary motorcycle accident, Lee underwent a religious epiphany and became a lay minister.  He came to believe that rock and roll was a sin.  A few short years later Lee was, tragically, dead from a brain tumor.

Bob Fisher joined a TSM competitor, Bill Deal and The Rondells and recorded and toured with them for more than ten years.  If you listen carefully, you can hear Bob’s voice on the Rondells' hits and other recordings.  His horn arrangements were an important part of the TSM’s sound. The last time I saw him, he was living in Danville, Virginia.

Dick stayed with TSM, and it eventually evolved into The Machine.  The group played lots of local dance venues, bars and clubs until it eventually disbanded, most members forming a new group: Full Sail.  Dick was a great drummer.  He had an unerring clock, keeping the correct tempo from start to finish.  Dick called me one day to tell of a house for sale on a river in Chesapeake, five houses from his.  Thinking it would be appropriate for Dick and I to grow old together as neighbors, my fiance and I bought that property and moved in, but within thirty days he died of a brain aneurism.  He was a dear friend; like a brother. We remained close all his life, and I miss him terribly.

Bill Stallings went on to study music at the University of Kansas and St. Louis Institute of Music.  Afterwards, he was a masters student at Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore, and toured on the lounge circuit with a group called Pieces of Dreams.  After that he never played professionally again; however, some of us were lucky enough to be with him when the mood struck, and he would play the piano for hours: rock, classical, jazz, improvisational.  His many years of practice made his play seem effortless.  He was a truly gifted musician and a dear friend; like a brother.  We remained close all his life, and I miss him terribly.

Evan was having such a good time with TSM that he forgot to continue classes at ODU, lost his student deferment, was drafted, and served two years in the U.S. Army.  He never played professionally again.  Except for the loss of so many dear friends, he continues to have an exceptionally exciting and interesting life.  It was probably inevitable that his son, Evan, would become a professional musician (El Kabong, Who’s Your Daddy).


In Memoriam

Gary Hamilton Richardson 7/9/1968
Lee Caraway 1979
Virginia Bocock 7/4/2000
Richard (Dick) Hamilton Bocock 6/6/2001
Bert Jersild 10/18/2005
Bill Stallings - 11/12/2006


Special People

As mentioned earlier, TSM had a great fan base, the enthusiasm of which was in no small way responsible for the group’s success.  Here are some of those important early supporters (with their identities protected).  If you’re not yet in a nursing home with someone wiping the drool from your chin, you might recognize yourself or someone you know.  If I missed you (I can still wipe my own chin, but little else), I’m sorry.  Jog my memory with a note.

Sue E.
Arlene B.
Sharon H.
Cindy C.
Lynn C.
Carol F.
Ruthie S.
Linda E.
Susan J. (and her dad)
Gloria H.
Paula ??
Lois M.
Grace A.
Judy M.
Joann H.
Joann S.
Carolyn R. (Not a fan, but never forgotten)
David P.
Ed P.
Sam G.
Joe G.
Willford W.
Don “Beetle” E.
Donn I. (and his dad)
Tommy B.


Observations, conclusions

No one of the original TSM (in its original six member configuration) ever recaptured the magic or excitement of those early times together.  The reality of untimely death and the responsibilities of adulthood siphoned off that wonderful glow, leaving only the warm memories, and even the memories have become indistinct with the passing of time... so many names, places, and events forgotten or only dimly recalled.   

At the height of TSM’s popularity, there was an explosion of local bands and venues, which diluted the fan base and reduced the income to be made from sponsoring dances at teen clubs, the high school gym, or Armory, making them uneconomical.  Later, the demeanor of the fans began to change until today's dance venues are noted more for the murders than the music.  Recorded music became really big business, and that, in turn, has probably peaked.  Bill Deal and his group went from six or seven members at its zenith to three pieces plus an elaborate midi (electronic) system in the years before his untimely death.  There may well never be another opportunity for a group to enjoy the experience which TSM enjoyed.  Like rotary dial phones, party lines, slide rules, drive-in movies, and drive-in restaurants with curb service they’re just memories of those old enough to to have been there.

There’s a great loss (and risk) in putting down these recollections at such a late date, because I don’t have Dick and/or Bill here to test my memory of events.  Over the years I’ve read various blurbs or heard people purporting to know TSM’s story, and I wanted to set the record straight... at least as I remember its early days.  Perhaps also the children and grandchildren of those who played a part or those who remember will find some amusement here.  For those of you who, like me, who are startled by the fact that all of a sudden we’re counted among the elderly (I was the oldest member of the group), my fondest hope is that, in reading or contributing to these pages you’ll recall the time when we were all young, and all that adventurous era of our youth entailed.  We lived the early days of rock and roll, wondered if we’d survive the Cuban Missle Crisis, watched JFK’s funeral, watched Neil Armstrong put the first footprint on the moon, were on the cusp of the sexual revolution and the hippie generation, witnessed the computer revolution and then, like all before us, were suddenly old and wondering how and when that part happened.  Being alive is a bewildering experience.  Being alive during the past sixty years has been a truly fantastic experience.

Always,
Evan

P.S. I would like to thank the Academy for..., no, no, no!  Wrong text!  I was inspired musically at a very early age by friends of my parents (Odell and Irene Toler), who let me listen to 78rpm records on their Victrola for hours on end, when I had to stand on a chair to operate it.  They also provided for my first piano lessons.  Billy Johnson, a friend of my father's from Oriental, NC taught me my first guitar chords on an instrument given me by the Tolers.  Robert J. Wells, for many years the band director in South Norfolk and (later) Chesapeake, was also a role model and mentor for seven of my formative years. While people's level of natural musical abilities vary, I believe that, if the exposure is started at a young age, almost everyone can get a lifetime of enjoyment from it, regardless of whether or not they play an instrument.


The Future

If the users find this blog popular, I'll keep it running, add recollections from time to time, and dress it up a bit with photos (if you have any photos, send them in), etc.  If readership and activity indicate it's too little, too late, I'll let it fade away gracefully.

As some TSM insiders know, the record for SPQR was not the only recording made by TSM.  You can click on the Media Player icon for a sample.  Perhaps I'll be able to tell you know more about that later.

Non-published Contact: evan@theswingingmachine.com


Long ago, far away
Life was clear, close your eyes
Remember is a place from long ago
Remember, filled with everything you know
Remember, when you're sad and feeling down
Remember, turn around
    Harry Nilsson, Remember

"By God, it was one hell of a party."
    Augustus McCrae, Lonesome Dove

“I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I'm a... fraid.”
    HAL 9000, 2001 A Space Odyssey

Wrap It Up - TSM Sample

Download | Duration: 00:00:33

Outlaws From The Start