Monday, August 21, 2006

156 - 78
A Meeting Of Spirits
It was smooth sailing Friday night into Saturday as I prepped for the show. The summer had been Mahavishnu themed due to many reasons:

  • Walter Kolosky’s excellent new book titled Power, Passion, and Beauty: The Story Of The Legendary Mahavishnu Orchestra
  • Gregg Bendian, drummer of the Mahavishnu Project joined us in the early spring
  • Gary Husband’s new disc Meeting Of Spirits: Interpretations Of The Music Of John McLaughlin
  • John McLaughlin is to join us into the early Autumn to discuss his blockbuster album Industrial Zen
  • Jan Hammer did 2006 remixes of the Miami Vice Classics!
  • Requests for the Mahavishnu Orchestra on the program alone, have gone up 40% since January

So my plan was to have it coincide with my 50 weeks to 1000 project by playing the first interview of 2006 with Drummer/Composer/Pianist Gary Husband. Gary was great in this interview. He touched on his work with Gongzilla, his Force Majuere project, the new album with Jason Smith, his playing with Allan, and lots of other things. We also touched on the last time that Gary was in the studio with us in 1996, and recognizing each other at the Allan Holdsworth show in 2000 while he wore his Speedos on stage. It’s true; Gary likes to wear Speedos when he plays. To each his own, I always say. I featured yet again, the forthcoming White Willow CD Signal To Noise. Besides being an awesome follow up to the #1 album of 2004 from them in Storm Season, they have 2 of the hottest chicks in music. First being Trude Eintang. Not only can she sing and change the depth and emotion with her singing, she has powerful eyes and a beautiful face. Don’t get me wrong, Sylvia Erichsen was hot too…but oh my. Trude is lovely. I think my favorite has to be the bassist, Marthe Berger Walthinsen. Scandanavian chick that’s hot and plays bass? Uhh…..hello? Do I need to get into detail? Anyway…this album is absolutely powerful.
All Roads Lead To Inca
It was time for another Sunday excursion into the Pines. As always, the perfect finish to a radio packed weekend. This time we brought Jack’s son Ryan with us. It was beautifully sunny, but I could feel the humidity and moisture in the air. Jack wanted me to take them somewhere they hadn’t been yet. So I decided on Atsion, then Batsto. We approached Atsion in the electric green wonder mobile and stopped to look at the Richards mansion. Maybe they didn’t care as much as I did. You see to me, this house is very important to the history of the area. In 1826, Samuel Richards built the Greek Revival mansion house that stands near Atsion lake by Atsion and Quaker Bridge Roads. During the early1840’s Richards had a workforce of 120 men, a Methodist Church and two dozen dwellings. Sawmills, forges, all in all, a busy town. Later Samuel Richards' daughter married William Walton Fleming of Charleston, South Carolina and they moved in. When anthracite coal was better obtained from places in New York and Pennsylvania, the economy plummeted in south jersey. The bog iron industry went buckled and went nowhere. In 1852, Fleming built a paper mill at Atsion. It closed after about two years, and he went bankrupt. The town name changed to Fruitland at this point. In 1856, the coming of William and John Torrey’s Raritan And Delaware Bay Railroad would change everything. At the start of the Civil War, the tracks came to Atsion and helped to transport troops and supplies. Atsion was the hot stop on this line. The Torreys had trains running from New York to Camden, via Atsion, by 1862. By 1867 the Torreys had gone bankrupt. In 1871 Maurice Raleigh, a wealthy Philadelphian, bought Atsion and built a cotton factory. He had the name changed back from "Fruitland" to "Atsion." Cool dude in my book. By 1892 Joseph Wharton bought it and the estate became a productive farm with peanuts being the crop shizzle. And then by 1954, the state purchased Atsion and surrounding land, which is now part of the Wharton State Forest. The trains stopped running all together by the mid 1970’s. Once I get past the church at Atsion, I almost pretend I can hear them coming. They sit in beautiful silence amidst the remnants of what once was. Oh how I wish I could see it just for one day. There was even talk at one point to have a rail line run to Quaker Bridge. But that was scrapped. To think, this could have been a serious junction to get to the Jersey shore. Now trees grow through the tracks….I guess its impracticalness saved its spirit in my opinion. We ventured down Quaker Bridge Road en route to the actual bridge with these thoughts invading my mind. Jack and Ryan thought I was driving too fast at 35 MPG but I thought to myself, hey….who knows, a stagecoach or carriage driver may have been moving at the same speed and had its passengers complain of the same thing at one time. It’s all relative. Shut up and enjoy the ride. We stopped at Quaker Bridge and witnessed other visitors as well as they cooled off in the Batsto River. The bridge is a steel bridge now, while at one point in its history, tied logs crossed this once ferocious river. It’s funny how times have changed. Very little is left here if anything. There are some cellar holes but not much more than that. I have made a vow to explore this area more once the weather cools down and once the chiggers take a nap for the season. Once you get beyond the bridge, the terrain changes, and it seems like there are more young growth trees. My curiosity has always been, why does it look like it was cleared out here before? Was there something here at one time? Were there settlements here at one time, or was this recently done in the last 20 years? Why are there fields of moss here? What’s it all mean? Quaker Bridge comes to meeting of some three to four different roads going in all directions. I stuck with Quaker Bridge until I came to Penn Swamp road. Penn Swamp leads out to the post Wharton era road called the Batsto/Washington Turnpike. Jack’s GPS showed us every old road we were on with ease and no dead spots. Truly fascinating. The damn thing even talks to you. We made it to Batsto and gave my usual tour. It was a beautiful yet warm day. The sun rays were pleasant, the air smelled clean, and the population there was sparse. Batsto was one of the first places I had ever explored in my New Jersey history studies. Batsto is one of the only preserved colonial towns of the Iron/Glass era in Southern New Jersey. I love Batsto. It’s like therapy to me. I can come here, and just get lost. Wonder the grounds…watch people….breathe the piney air….and dream….dream of what it was like. Well, it must of sucked in the summertime I’ll tell you that. Even on the mowed grass out back of the mansion I had ticks on me. I hate ticks. Passionately. I will burn the whole house down if I find one. Chiggers, yeah I hate them. But not as much Ticks. Evil sonofabitches. Anyway, after dancing at the mill and playing with the chickens, I decided to head back down the Batsto/Washington Turnpike and introduce Jack and Ryan to Washington. This was a one time small hamlet located in the middle of the current Wharton State Forest tract. This is where many roads converge in the pines. Batsto Washington Road, Washington Road, Hampton Gate Road, Iron Pipe Road, Washington Jenkins Road and the ever popular Tuckerton Road. This town has several stories. One of the most popular being the story of Joe Mulliner. Joe more or less was the Robin Hood of the New Jersey pines. Hi lived down by Pleasant Mills outside of Batsto, and lived a wild life. He kinda reminds me of Roger. A good spirited partier who loved surprising people in the Jersey pines and making merry. Joe was tough and big to match. Although he frequented many places in the Pines, Washington was one of notable fame. This is where he came upon the Washington Tavern one day wanting obviously something refreshing. When he arrived he saw a young girl crying out the back of the tavern. When he stormed the back door of the tavern he saw that there were some forced marriages going on. He scared all the men doing the forcing, and they ran for the woods. Joe was the man. There are other stories as well…Pleasant Mills/Nesco, Quaker Bridge tavern, and others. Unfortunately, since Joe was a loyalist, he was hung in 1781. They say you can still hear his bellowing laughter in the woods from time to time. I never have, but eh…who knows. But Washington had some importance as to being a voting spot (at the tavern) and troops were trained here in the War Of 1812. When you view aerial maps, you can see the outline of a once strong farming community. Washington was special to me as well. I reflected, too. We left from there and headed down a road I truly neglect in Devious Mount road. An odd, topsy turvey type road that takes you to a one time house and orchard I first visited with Ben from NJPINEBARRENS.
Can I Get A Box For Fatty’s Food Over Here?
We decided to return back down Quaker Bridge to Atsion and then to 206. We stopped at the Pic-a-lilli for what else, but wings. Once we arrived, we walked into to a totally different world. Lights, air-conditioning, tables of families, and beautiful hostesses were awry. We sat down and ordered. I went with the crab bread, while Jack with a Filet Mignon sandwhich, and Ryan, chicken fingers. I ordered what else but chicken wings. Jack suddenly realized he couldn’t find his phone. I started to get nervous because I drove, and did hit quite a few bumps that day. But I honestly could not remember where that phone went. I called it, but kept losing the signal at the Pic. It’s like the Bermuda Triangle of lost cell calls. Anyway, I felt bad. I would be ticked if I lost my phone. But Jack’s business IS THE PHONE. So, I went out and checked his jeep twice. Jeeps have a weird way of sucking in things in both the emergency brake console, and the middle console. No one knows why, but other jeep owners have all admitted to finding long lost things in their jeeps and the most odd times. Anyway, we go back outside to find a monsoon passed through. And the Jeep top was down. Nice. Nothing like a wet ass on the way home. Jack’s phone fell out of mid air like it traveled through time to get to us, and Jack was happy. We left the Pic soaked, and headed back to the Village of the Sun. Along the way we drove down Ridge to find Big Bob Lovin disposing of bodies in his oil well in his new garage. We laughed, we cried, and I headed home. Jack got me thinking. He said to me while we were at Quaker Bridge, “Dude, you are getting fat, what’s up wit dat?” I was stunned. I know put a little weight on, but am I fat? I was crushed. Maybe I am fat. Maybe I am denial. I was always good at this. Anyway, I drove home and did pushups and sit-ups till I couldn’t breathe anymore. I felt good, but the gut was still there. This is something I need to work on obviously. I will keep you updated as to how my tubby body turns out.
Rest In Peace Michele Marie Moore
About a year ago, I was getting some press letters in regards to the newly reformed The Syn. I had been going through some of the worst personal issues of my life during that span, and was ready to close the show up for a while. I had received 3 emails from Michele Moore of http://www.yesservices.com/ asking to make time for an interview with Stephen Nardelli and Chris Squire. I was up for the interview, but had no drive to extensive research. It was an effort to just get out of bed. But, speaking with Michele that August made me feel good. She was one of those, ‘hey life is like that, you will be fine.’ Michele briefly touched on the fact that she wasn’t feeling too great lately either. I never pried or poked about it, but she made sure that she was ok and that things would work out. We talked a few other times about some of our Yes memories and gossip etc. As July approached of 2006, I was wondering how she was but due to business of both life and the radio show, I never got around to contacting her. I found out sadly 2 weeks ago she had passed on from cancer. She was a great woman that was always willing to help and get things in order quite quickly. I will admire that she kept her strength until she couldn’t fight anymore. I regretted spilling my guts to her about the dark events that had transpired in my life while little did I know, she was dying. Michele you will be terribly missed. We need more people like you in this world. You are in the right place

This Program Ran 4 Hours and 3 Minutes

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