The money, or lack thereof, was what turned me towards a "day" job. Being a solo folk act was what I loved and I had quite a following. But, by 1973, gigging coffeehouses was paying bupkus and the clubs were wanting "lounge" acts. I switched to singing with a small 3-4 piece combo ... and I enjoyed it ... I love singing old standards and show tunes ... but I wasn't in control and often sang tunes that I HATED. I just cannot sing tunes that I HATE, night after night. And they always wanted me to sing the Scott McKenzie tune "When You're Going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair." They thought it "fit" me because I was still considered a folksinger and I still looked like one. So .. the esoterics of the talent got in the way of the business.

Like Rick ... I had the opportunity to go commercial and could have made big, big bucks and would have had a "recognizable" name. I just couldn't do it. I didn't want to sing what I didn't want to sing. I wasn't living at home, then, but my father was so upset, practically inconsolable. He still talks about it, on occasion.

Most people see the glamor of being a professional entertainer, but it can be a very hard life. Just the transiency of it all makes it difficult. I was lucky because I tended to stay in gigs for a long time, because of my following.

Then, what happens, the day job starts taking more and more of your time, and there's no time to look for music jobs.

And, Rick ... I never met any call girls on my gigs, but I did weary of having my dates pick me up at 2 AM. When I moved to Washington, D.C., I even had a groupie guy show up on my doorstep. Luckily, I knew and had dated him, but ...

The oddest experience was when a club owner asked me to stay and perform for a private party (mind you, I was 19 y/o) ... a carnival owner was having a birthday party for his wife. The carnival owner was 80 and his young wife was about 20, which was okay, lest anyone jump on me for age discrimination. Also, in attendance, were several very tall, big women, wearing sleazy cocktail dresses and with sprayed, teased, bouffanted hair. Let me reinterate ... I was 19. At one point, during the party, all the women got up, and as I turned my head to see where they were going, they all went into the men's room. I thought it was odd and mentioned it to my father the next day. He looked at me rather oddly and sent for my mother too tell me about transvestites. Twas a rude awakening, too be sure.

Sometimes I wish I had stayed in ... Oft times I wish I had stayed in ... but am comfortable with the fact that all things happen for a reason ...

Jenny