Albuquerque, New Mexico
From
Chapter One
Smiles, Giggles and Laughs
Steam
erupts from under my hood. My sense of reality slowly
returns. The stereo is still playing Depeche Mode's
Route 66; the hub cap spins to a stop, again.
Oh
how I wish I could start this night all over ...
--- --- ---
I
flip on the spotlight switch. The beam of light
captures the calm, cool and collected, impeccably
dressed, now slyly smiling Parks.
"Good
evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is Lee Parks
and I'll be your emcee this evening!" He bows
his head.
I
flip another toggle switch. Elevator music fills
the room which underscores Park's sharp motions.
His illusionist arms snap and stretch outward, revealing
nothing up his long tux sleeves. With precise movements,
his right arm moves inward, his hand curling into
a fist. Then with his other hand, he points his
index finger to lead the audience's eyes to the
clinched fist. Lee pokes his finger in, then out,
pulling out the tip of a white cloth. Continuing
to pull, he reveals a black cloth that leads to
a red cloth which is tied to a blue cloth. Then
a green cloth becomes visible, than a yellow, and
finally the white cloth again. The audience responds
with building applause.
Taking
a moment for a breath, I walk back through the lobby.
There with his grand smile is Tommy Chen.
"We're
under way," I tell him while I lean on the
counter of the grotto.
"Aren't
you going to watch you own show?" he asks.
"How
many times can any human watch the same show?"
Tommy
nods as the glass front doors swing wide open. Volcano
Joe staggers in, a tam askew on his head, his arm
around the waist of his latest groupie, Maggie.
She started coming in to see his show weeks ago,
and after his act she was always all over him. Now
she's the longest running of all of Volcano's groupies.
Her arm proudly circles his waist as if he is her
trophy.
"Well,
there's the big comedy producer man," rasps
Volcano. "Your headliner has arrived."
Lobby patrons have no choice but to take notice.
Some do a double-take.
Applause
bleeds into the lobby from the showroom. Another
round of applause signals Paul Lott's introduction.
My
first impulse is to step back into the showroom
to watch the new guy, but at that moment Volcano
and his lady step into my space. Their body odor
-- a combination of sweat, old liquor and cigar
smoke -- arrives before they do. Volcano's eyes
are the same as Maggie's, severely bloodshot. He
staggers to attention as Maggie holds him steady.
"Don't
you ever stop drinking?" I say.
"Don't
worry about it. I'm ready to go on," Volcano
slurs.
"We've
had this talk before. I don't want you drinking
before you go on stage. You can't control it. Plus,
have you seen the time? Have you? We started the
show fifteen minutes ago! You are canceled. Go cool
your heels and drink some coffee or something."
I
have to leave the sour-smelling couple behind so
I can walk into my showroom. But things don't improve.
The
audience is dead as I walk in. Paul Lott is struggling
with magical 101 cards showing an illusion I've
seen many times before by countless other aspiring
trickologists before him. Card tricks? This guy
is doing card tricks on my stage? Card tricks are
for close up table magic. Large and grand visibility
tricks are required for stage work. It's no wonder
the audience is bored.
Lee
sits at the comics' table, his face clearly shows
his chagrin. Paul Lott has to get off, and now.
Anticipating what I'm going to say, Lee whispers,
"Give him the light?"
I
nod. The comedy club's version of the old vaudeville's
stage hook is the flashlight which Lee shines directly
on his friend's face. All over the country, comics
know that if you get the light, you have sixty seconds
to wrap up your act and get off stage.
###
The
Old Hilton, today known as La Posada de Albuquerque,
was built by Conrad Hilton in 1939. It was added to
the National Register of Historic places in 1984.