Denny Gerrard was the phenomenally talented bass player for the Paupers. He was so talented, in fact, he won the the prestigious Playboy jazz poll, two years in a row when he was only nineteen. But unfortunately Denny was fond of substances you couldn't buy at Krogers. I could tell you hundreds of stories about his increasingly bizarre behavior but in the interest of me not getting crazy about it all over again, here's just one. We were on a nine or ten city tour and in one of the cities Denny didn't show up for the plane. A little troubling, but since this was the last city of the tour, it wasn't a major inconvenience. About two weeks later, having heard nothing from him, he called me up at home , out of the blue.
"Hey Adam, it's Denny."
"Denny, where the hell are you?"
"I don't know. Where am I?"
"Excuse me? You're asking me? "
"Well, you're the lead singer.. You're supposed to know stuff."
I know, folks. It's not about logic. He's a bass player, remember?
So I patiently ask him... "Okay, are you inside or outside?"
Long beat, "Inside...I think". Hmm. This from a guy who wins international awards.
"Denny, look out the window. It's a square thing with light coming through. Tell me if you can see any cars and tell me what state they're from."
"No problem. Hold the line a sec."
Then he hangs up.
He calls back, about forty five minutes later, as excited as if he'd just met the Queen.
"Oh yeah, there were cars alright! I must have counted fifty of them!"
I take a very deep breath.
"And did you happen to notice what state they were from?"
"Oh shoot". He'd forgotten already. Then...
Philadelphia, being the place where he hadn't shown up for the plane, of course.
How Denny eventually got home, I don't remember. But when I finally saw him, I asked...
"Do you remember anything that happened during the two weeks you were missing? Anything, at all."
"Oh, yeah. I saw Bob Hope. He looked just like him."