Parkie is an actuary. I’m not sure what that is, but the investment company for whom he worked had an annual party to celebrate the year’s earnings. He booked us for the affair and we were impressed with the late afternoon setting in the parking lot. We already were seasoned tent performers, but for this occasion two circus-size tents had been raised, and there was closed circuit television coverage between Pennsylvania and the other offices in Arizona. We were live, coast to coast. Parkie’s colleagues by the thousands wandered around after their workday, danced, and found plenty of food at the buffet.
It was on this Friday afternoon that the company profits would be announced. The CEO, back from a recent heart transplant, was there to make the announcement. Everything stopped when the CEO was introduced. There was a standing ovation. He acknowledged their applause and his revelation of record profits sent the crowd into near delirium.
No one in the band thought it to be a bad idea to punctuate the cheering with a tune. Perhaps, “Spinning Wheel” was a bad choice. (“What goes up, must come down…” was the first line) Never before had I ever experienced such a sudden change in crowd behavior. From their huge stage at the far end of the main tent, I could see the CEO and his management team now on their feet making angry gestures. I could see their red faces, but their shouting was lost in the chorus of murmurs and other strange noises that filled the air, even coming from the amusement tent nearby. Our stage overlooked the mayhem and gave everyone a clear view of us. It was good that we had already been to the buffet.
Hoey was man enough to take responsibility, but except for Parkie, we could all go home and not return. Parkie would be expected at his desk on Monday morning…