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Struthers is a small town
a few miles from Youngstown, Ohio, which was then a
major steel producer. Nearly every job around here
was tied to steel in one way or another. We were
all from middle-class homes with the standard
sensibilities of the time. My dad was a police
Captain, Mike's dad worked for the railroad, and
Sam and Reggie's dads worked in the steel mills. As
we got involved with the band, we seldom had much
to do with all the "normal' activities everybody
else got into. We were "musicians" and we were
going to be very successful at it. Or so we
thought.
John "Sut" Morell
(me-rhythm guitar), played briefly in an earlier
outfit called "The Ron-Dells" in 1964. I began
playing guitar after failing miserably as an
accordion player. (Incidentally, 'rhythm guitarist'
was code for 'not very good'.) I loved to listen to
Everly Brothers, Paul Anka, Roy Orbison, Prez Prado
("Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White" is still a
favorite of mine) and all the teen idols and black
chick groups of the late 50's and early 60's. All
that changed on February 9, 1964.
Mike Nestor (lead
guitar/lead vocal) was re-forming a band called
"The Five Dimensions" and it then included a combo
organ player named Jimmy Casino and a drummer named
Sam Coppola. I joined that band and Mike and I
became best friends. He and I would get together at
his house and play early Beatles, Dylan and Stones
songs over and over. Musically we were on the same
wavelength.
Sam Luther : (sax/bass
guitar/lead vocal) played sax with earlier bands
and somehow ended up with me and Mike. I can't
remember exactly how this came about. I recently
E-mailed Mike about it and he responded: "I thought
he came with YOU!" However the hell it happened, he
was in the band (I suppose) as a sax player but we
still needed a bass player. My dad picked up the
Danelectro bass for $40 at a pawnshop, handed it to
Sam and said: "Here, learn how to play this." He
sure did.
The drummer and organ
player soon quit but we acquired another drummer
named Reggie Palmer. We kinda stole him from a
polka band. Reggie was an outgoing, fun-loving guy
and an exceptionally powerful drummer. He remained
with us for the duration of "The Lost
Souls".
As a group we all had
similar tastes in music to one degree or another.
One aspect some people recall of us from back then
is how we played B-sides and neat stuff they never
heard before. They fondly remember that we didn't
cater so much to what the crowd "wanted" to hear
but rather we played what we thought they "should"
hear. And that was how we approached it. Instead of
playing "Turn, Turn, Turn", we played the flip
side, "She Don't Care About Time". We actually
played a jazzy version of "My Favorite Things" that
we heard the Byrds play live on some TV show. Same
thing with the Turtles B-side, "Outside Chance".
Mike was ALWAYS coming up with really cool stuff
he'd discovered somewhere. He brought in stuff like
"Morning Dew" and "Cold Rain and Snow" by the
Grateful Dead. Or the tune called "Seven and Seven
Is". Sam found "Hey Grandma", "8:05" and "Omaha" by
Moby Grape and "Today" (we did it the way they
played it live on Johnny Carson's Show in 1968) and
"Coming Back To Me" by Jefferson Airplane. We were
living and breathing the 60's garage band
revolution and it was all we thought about, to the
exclusion of nearly everything else going on around
us. When we weren't practicing we were checking out
new material or listening to other local bands. On
Saturday's we'd go over to Metropolis (Youngstown)
and scour the pawnshops for band stuff we could
afford.
June, 1967 turned everyone
on their heads around here. When Sgt. Pepper came
out, it was pretty clear that the music scene was
about to change BIG TIME! The Beatles always set
the proverbial bar and they'd just raised it above
everybody's head. To illustrate how significant it
was, we were driving by the high school when two
members of the biggest rival band, "The Immortals",
flagged us down. We expected a "rumble". They asked
if we'd heard the new Beatles album yet and began
describing the songs, themes and instruments.
"There's a song about being 64-years old on it!"
"HUH?", we replied. For a brief moment in time, our
mutual "hatred" was suspended as we marveled over
that album cover and the unprecedented magic
inside.
Mike and Sam had a really
unique vocal blend and each had a distinct lead
vocal style. That was rare in those days when most
garage bands were lucky if their designated
"singer" could even remember the words, let alone
sing in key and on pitch. We had two great singers,
in my humble opinion, and that alone put us miles
ahead of the pack. And we were technically pretty
good musicians, too.
In 1986, I arranged for us
to play two consecutive nights at a local club for
a "Lost Souls" 20-year reunion. With Mike living in
Columbus, Ohio, 180-miles away, it was hard to
manage any rehearsal, although he did come up twice
for full practices. Sam was working with an
original material band but did agree to
participate. Since Reggie lives out in Las Vegas, I
contacted Sammy Coppola, our first drummer and he
was pumped-up for it. For added texture, we
utilized a keyboard player to add strings or brass
to songs we sure couldn't do in 1965 through 1968.
It turned out great and we packed the place both
nights. The owner of the club actually gave us a
$100 TIP!
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Personnel:
Michael Nestor - Lead Guitar, Lead
Vocals
Sam Luther - Bass Guitar, Saxophone, Lead
Vocals
John "Sut" Morell - Rhythm Guitar,
occasional third voice
Reggie Palmer - Drums
Jim Casino - Combo Organ (an alternate
member who periodically dropped in for
band contests.)Sam Coppola- original
drummer for several months.
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Influences:
The usual
suspects; Beatles, Byrds, Rolling Stones,
Who, Grateful Dead, Hollies, Byrds,
Turtles, Beau Brummels, Kinks as well as
Byrds, Bee Gees, Lovin' Spoonful, Zombies,
Terry Knight and the Pack, Shadows of
Knight, Byrds, some Motown stuff, the
Ventures, Jefferson Airplane, Seeds,
Standels, Byrds, Music Machine, Moby
Grape, Knickerbockers and many others
including the Byrds.
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Setlist
Sample:
Feel A Whole Lot Better (Always our
opening tune), Here Without You, I Knew
I'd Want You, She Don't Care About Time,
If You're Gone, My Back Pages, Goin' Back,
Eight Days A Week, Help, Outside Chance,
My Generation, I've Been Told, Change On
The Way, Dark Side, Gloria, Shout, Gimme
Little Sign, 8:05, Cold Rain And Snow,
Walkin' The Dog, Knock On Wood, Midnight
Hour, Talk Talk, Set Me Free, Till The End
Of The Day, I Can See For Miles and many
obscure B-sides, which we loved to do.
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Equipment:
Our original equipment consisted mainly of
everything currently referred to in the
musical instrument business as
"collectible", "vintage", "discontinued"
or "reissue".
Mike: Harmony and Fender Stratocaster
guitars, Silvertone and Fender Single
Showman amps.
Sam: Danelectro Longhorn bass, Ampeg
amp.
John: National and Gibson guitars,
Silvertone and Fender Single Showman
amps.
Reggie: Ludwig drums
Bogan 50watt p.a. later modified with the
Silvertone cabinets and additional
horns.
Mike was very
smart, resourceful and knew electronics
(check out his picture from 1966 for
proof). He made an early fuzz box and
reverb unit from Radio Shack kits. We
figured whatever the Byrds used for mics
HAD to be great. We also checked out what
the "Human Beinz" had. They used several
beautiful chrome Electro-Voice
microphones. We eventually got ourselves
one. The "Beinz" also had DUEL Showman
amps, which impressed the shit out of us.
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Rehearsal
Space:
We
practiced in my (John's) basement or
occasionally in Sam's basement, behind the
hanging clothes, in front of the hot water
tank and to the side of the furnace. Often
times we would set up and practice in my
driveway, a somewhat secluded old
neighborhood populated with tolerant
relatives. In later incarnations of the
band, we set up in a garage at Mike's
house, which was in a semi-rural
setting.
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Band
Vehicles:
A couple
friends who had their license and a car
were our transportation. Assorted parents
drove us around. After I turned 16, I
would often use whatever ancient station
wagon my dad had currently loaded with
fishing equipment. No matter what make,
model, color, or year, whenever we packed
our shit into it, it became "The Fish
Wagon", our official gigmobile. I'd be
neglectful if I didn't mention the good
buddies who pioneered "roadie-ism" by
hauling us around, helping set up and tear
down, twist a knob or two, help hide
frozen meat inside drum cases and being
our biggest supporters. Walter Hoxworth,
the most kind, decent, humorous and
handsome (I mean that in a manly way) guy
you'd ever have met. He was killed in Viet
Nam in 1969. Bobby "Hitch" Nalepa, a
talented artist who became a school art
teacher and did awesome graphics on
vehicles. "Hitch" remains one of my two
best friends.
And there was Ronny Perry, a wonderful
friend who eventually became Police Chief
Ronald Perry of the Lowellville Police
Department. He's now retired. I don't
recall if Ronny took part in the "Great
Meat Heist of 1966".
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Fashion
Statement:
We
usually wore whatever was available and
clean. Jeans and colored T-shirts were our
second skin. This eventually gave way to
coordinated outfits from time to time. In
1966 we got matching burgundy corduroy
suits but they were too hot and we went
back to wearing jeans and cool looking
shirts. We were hot for suede boots, also.
1966 had a very distinct "Mod" look to it.
Polka-dot shirts and white hip-hugger
slacks with wide belts were the norm. (I
haven't had "hips" for 30-years.) There
was a brief period in 1969, in the group
"Salt", when I rebelled against what had
become the standard musician clothing of
the day; funky old bell-bottom jeans and
tie-dyed T-shirts. I started wearing real
classy outfits. One in particular was tan
slacks with brown pin-stripes, big belt,
and the neatest looking brown "Napoleonic"
jacket imaginable. It was similar to what
the Moody Blues were into at the time and
I've seen a photo of the bassist for the
Beatles with the same jacket but in two
shades of green. The drummer from a group
called "Hard Willow" once said when we
shared a club billing: "Sut, you've got
class." His name was Myron Grumbacher and
he went on to drum for Pat Benatar during
her chart-topping ride in the early 80's.
I still have that size 36 jacket. I'm
still waiting for it to expand to a size
42.
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Best
Gig:
In
August, 1967 when we won First Place in a
"Battle of the Bands" contest at Idora
Park Ballroom in Youngstown, Ohio had to
have been a "best gig" for sure. We played
"Summer In The City", "To Love Somebody",
and another tune I can't recall. (One of
the "judges" was Mel Pachuta, bassist for
"The Human Beinz" who would soon score a
hit with "Nobody But Me" a year later). In
1966, Struthers High School put on a
"Variety Show". The Lost Souls were dubbed
the "house band" and backed up any kids
who sang. It was our first time playing to
an old theater style auditorium filled
with people of all ages sitting down.
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Gig
from
Hell!:
We played
a private party at a Grange Hall out in
"the sticks" in the dead of winter. It was
miserable night as the high winds created
massive snowdrifts outside and the
temperature kept dropping. Nearly all of
the guests had left early because of the
weather. Our only transportation was a
good buddy named Walter Hoxworth. He had
an old Chevy and after carefully packing
all our equipment inside, we discovered it
wouldn't start. Walt kept fooling around
under the hood with no luck. The father of
the "Party Boy" offered to drive Sam, our
bass player, to get another car since he
lived near Sam's house and was going to
pass it on his way home anyway. But the
offer wasn't made out of kindness. The
prick charged Sam $10 for the ride which
involved less than 5-miles. The band only
made $40 that night and gave back $10.
A Gig from Purgatory: occurred back
in the summer of 1966 during a private
party at an upscale apartment complex.
Remember now, we were all of 15, 16 and
17-years old and this complex was
inhabited by a "swinging singles' crowd in
their 20's and 30's, possibly even as old
as their 40's, who made smart ass comments
all night about our "girl hair". They were
jacking us around about our gig money and
tried to screw us out of a good portion of
it. I remember we were really pissed off
at those jerks. As we were packing up and
loading the car, we had to go through a
long, covered patio beside the pool.
Lining the wall were a few freezers used
by these arrogant, smart-ass tenants for
their pool parties. Our drummer Reggie
nosed around inside those things and found
them chock full of frozen steaks, beef
patties and Italian sausage (links AND
patties). We decided to exact our own
juvenile justice. There was frozen meat
stuffed inside every conceivable container
we had, including guitar cases and mic
cord boxes. When we finally got back to my
house around 3 AM, we had ourselves a
"meat-feast" you wouldn't believe. They
never hired us back, and we didn't give a
shit.
The RETURN of
Gig from Hell: that turned out pretty
good was the late autumn dance we were
playing at the high school after the
football game. As Mike was backing the car
into the long alleyway, he struck a post.
Since his head was sticking out the
window, he smacked it real hard and was
immediately covered with blood. He had a
deep gash just above his left eye. I ran
up to the football field and got an
ambulance guy to check him out and called
his mom. She quickly arrived, took him to
the hospital and I continued unloading and
setting up. The game ended, the kid's came
streaming in for the dance and we're
standing there with our thumbs up our
asses, minus our lead guitarist, lead
singer and in a state of near panic. We
stalled as long as we could and the three
of us played an instrumental tune. Then
suddenly, emerging from the murky shadows
with a huge bandage over his eyebrow (and
10 stitches underneath) was Mike, who'd
returned to save the night. He wore a big
pair of sunglasses over his swollen eye
and was numbed up with painkillers, but he
managed to play and sing. The entire
"medical emergency" took little more than
an hour and a half.
The SON of a
Gig from Hell: was the night we
changed our entire image. Mike had picked
up the "Are You Experienced" album out of
town and no one around here ever HEARD of
Jimmy Hendricks! (joke). We were floored
by it and we learned the whole album to
unleash upon the unsuspecting schmucks at
the school dance. The band scheduled to
play that late fall evening was called
"Arcade" and signs began popping up all
around the school announcing "Arcade is
coming"! The band "Arcade" was actually
"The Lost Souls", but we wanted to
surprise everyone and change our name and
look at the same dramatic moment. It was a
total secret that even our girlfriends
weren't let in on. We set up early and
basically hid until "showtime". After our
buddy/accomplice "Hitch" went out alone
and read some bullshit musical manifesto
we wrote, he said…"Please
welcome….(dramatic pause)…
ARCADE!" Nothing! The four of us walked
from the dark corridor to a deafening
SILENCE. Wearing dumb-ass paisley capes,
serious faces and other hippie hogwash, we
approached our humming amps to a stunned,
skeptical and not-at-all-impressed bunch
of students. I heard a couple kids sigh
"Oh, it's only them" and "Oh yeah, real
'cool' you dipshits!" It was a disaster.
Because of the "fringe" stuff we played as
the Lost Souls, we weren't exactly the
most popular band in town as it was. Now
we're going one step beyond THAT and
looking like a bunch of assholes to boot.
Not a wise career move for sure. We didn't
really recover from that and began to lose
focus and direction (see below).
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Last
Gig:
I can't
recall where or when but it was soon after
Sam left to join another band called
"Souled Out" in the spring of 1968. We
worked with another bassist (John Collier)
for a bit but we kind of lost momentum and
disbanded (pun intended). We later joined
up with each other in one band or another
over the next several years. Both Mike and
myself in a group called "Salt"
(1968-1970). Me, Reggie and Sam in a horn
band called "Phoenix Rush" (1971-1972),
and later just Sam and me in a
progressive/artsy-fartsy band
(Yes/ELP/Genesis/Moody Blues/Jethro
Tull/King Crimson) called "Talisman"
(1972-1974). That group was lucky to have
had a keyboard player with a B-3, an RMI
piano, an ARP 2000, a Mini-Moog and a
highly temperamental Mellotron D-400.
(Augmented by another guitarist named
Craig McCreary who also played keyboard,
we played much of the "Yes", "Fragile" and
"Close To The Edge" albums by Yes,
"Funeral for A Friend", and "In The Court
of the Crimson King" with all that neat
keyboard stuff.) "Talisman" once got
booked in a tiny bar in Fairmont, West
Virginia, loaded with drunken rednecks who
had no use for "art-rock" nor the
long-haired Greg Lake wannabe's playing
it. It was a very long night.
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Comments:
I was involved
with a few musicians in the late 70's and early
80's who were really great players but were
personally hedonistic shitheads. We struggled to
create our own original music and worked very hard
at writing, arranging, recording and producing. As
with every band situation I've encountered, there's
ALWAYS an asshole with a massive ego, a prima-donna
attitude or any number of personality flaws which
make them impossible to work with or be around. A
turd in the punchbowl, so to speak. That last band
experience was so emotionally traumatizing that I
haven't wanted to get involved with "musicians"
since.
*Special Notice: You younger guys, remember this
free advice: If he SEEMS like a dickhead, then he
definitely and most assuredly IS a dickhead and you
MUST divest yourselves of him as fast as possible!
Even if he sings like (insert favorite singer's
name here), plays guitar like (insert name of
favorite guitarist here) and writes songs like (you
know the drill) do yourselves a HUGE favor and dump
him, fast! You'll be glad you did. He's not worth
the bullshit he'll put you through.
The old saying about "one bad apple spoils the
whole barrel", as I understand it, was originally
coined by Geonovia Octaveous, a rhythm lute player
from ancient Rome who was trying to form a band of
fellow teen minstrels. I believe they were called
"The 5 Gladiators" and played at temple burnings
and Christian executions. But there was that one
single asshole in the band that made life miserable
for everyone else and they eventually broke up.
Geonovia schlepped around town solo for awhile
doing a pagan Saturnalia festival gig here and an
occasional eunuch castration gig there but finally
gave up his starry-eyed dream and became a goat
butcher in Milan. At least that's what I've heard.
I don't know how true that is, but the sentiment is
certainly as relevant today as it was then.
Another tip for the young bands out there peeking
into this site. Read all of the sample "set lists"
and locate those songs (I've found [stolen]
nearly ALL of them on-line). Now go and learn them,
give yourselves a dorky name (pick one of the many
listed here, I'm sure THEY won't be using it
anymore) and book yourselves into clubs and bars
catering to the 45-55 crowd and play that wonderful
music like you really MEAN it. You'll be able to
retire before you're 25. And it won't involve
splitting $20 four ways, either!
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