In fall of 1959, Bob Nelson (Deckman) and I went from Seattle to the San Francisco Bay area to seek fame and fortune, because we kept hearing that's the place to be. So we decided to give it a shot. We met a lot of neat people (including Juanita, whom I mention above, who often advised us two barefoot pilgrims, and fed us frequently, bless her heart!) such as Rolf Cahn (from whom I learned a lot). We also met a lot of strange and bizarre folks. This was, after all, the Bay Area.

Bob and I had heard of a whole bunch of places down there that were supposed to be Meccas for folk-type singers, so we checked them out. It turned out that most of these famous places were pits compared to places we had sung in Seattle. Often "basket houses" (no pay from the management—just a tip basket). And we auditioned at some of the famous clubs, e.g., The Purple Onion, et al. Turned out they were more interested in comedy acts than they were with anything having to do with folk music.

We got a lot of tips about places that would pay itinerant folk-type singers for single appearances, so Bob and I tried to earn a bit of pocket money at these places. More often than not, when we finished the gig, the manager or whoever was supposed to pay us was nowhere to be found. More than once, we had to chase some Bozo out the back door, down the alley, and tackle him to get him to pay us what he had promised.

One place that—for some strange reason—wanted to hire us for one evening was Ann's 440. We didn't know anything about the place—until we got there. It turned out to be a strip club!!

They sent us back to the dressing room to stash our guitar cases and tune up. The "dressing (?) room" was packed with young (more or less) women in various states of nudity. As we're tuning up and preparing to go on, Bob, his eyes pinwheeling a bit, whispered to me "My Gawd! I don't know where I'm supposed to look!"

I mean, wot the hell! We had just come out of the Deep Woods and the moss hadn't even fallen off our north sides yet!

Well, we did the gig. Not our finest hour!

The audience made it abundantly clear that they had not come to Ann's 440 to listen to a couple of guys sing folk songs!

Someplace along the line, Bob and I decided that for all of the Bay Area being touted as "the place to be" if you were a folk singer (sort of "Greenwich Village West"), we decided that we had been much better off in Seattle, so we came back. And we were!

Back to places where audiences actually came to hear you, the management paid regularly, and your elbows didn't stick to the tables!

Don Firth