Before I joined, it was Ginger and the Snaps. Walt’s sister was a bass player and singer. She had left the band and I was a college guy looking for a gig. With Bobby on guitar and Charlie on drums, Walt was confident his Hammond B-3 would carry the bottom and was intrigued with the idea of adding a sax to the band. I’m not sure, but I think Bobby talked him into it.
We played the local hot spots around Philadelphia and New Jersey, with memorable moments at a gay club in Delaware. My education continued.
Returning from Wilmington one night, Bobby was at the wheel of his mint green ’58 Chevy convertible, impeccably restored by his own hand at the body shop where he worked his day job. Walt and I were passengers, all of us looking forward to sleeping late on Saturday. Somebody else was in a hurry to get home that night and ran a red light. I took eleven stitches above the right eye…
Walt was also a daytime body man and later found an old ’48 Ford panel truck in somebody’s back yard. Somewhat battered, but still running and very cheap, he painted it pink and had somebody emblaze THE SNAPS on both sides in whiteswirling letters and black music notes to explain. Charlie drove himself to the gigs, thereby avoiding the cramped quarters in the truck where I had to lay on top of the equipment in the back. One night, returning from Jersey, after being paid in 100 dollar bills, we were delayed at the Walt Whitman Bridge for almost an hour because nobody had a quarter.
It was my misfortune that The Beatles came along and soon there was no longer a need for a saxophone in the band. It was the first time I got fired, but still I was happy to be alive. Walt’s wife almost shot me. I slept at Walt’s place sometimes when we played on week nights. We had dropped Bobby off and Walt was parking the truck, a rather tedious maneuver. He gave me the house key to get a head start. I didn’t know his wife had a gun to defend herself against unwelcome intruders. I was just trying to be quiet, considerate so I wouldn’t awaken her…