By Bill Kelly
The band that Colonel Kutlets sent to Tony – the best rock and roll band available in the summer of ’65, finally showed up in a small caravan consisting of a late ’50s Chevy sedan, a Rambler stationwagon and a U-Haul rental truck full of equipment, stage clothes and street clothes.
The Hawks got their name from Ronnie Hawkins, the rockabilly roustabout who led the Hawks through a hundred roadhouses for years, mainly in the Gulf states. And while they had a good time, learned a lot and got tight with the music, Hawkins took the bulk of the money and gave them the change. So they decided to bail out, take a break, go back home to Toronto and heal their wounds – broke but proud and smarter.
If you don’t know rockabilly music and never heard of Ronnie Hawkins, he was the guy in the cowboy hat in “The Last Waltz” movie, doing the rockabilly version of the Bo Diddley song, “Who Do You Love?”
I walk 47 miles of barbed wire, I use a cobra-snake for a necktie, I got a brand new house on the roadside, Made from rattlesnake hide, I got a brand new chimney made on top, Made out of a human skull, Now come on baby, let’s take a little walk, And tell me, who do you love?
Hawkins’ song from “The Last Waltz” gives you a pretty good idea of what it was like to play behind Rockin’ Ronnie every night for five years, so the Hawks got to be a really tight group.
The Hawks will tell you that they got tired of all of the carousing and good times, afternoon practice and working six and seven nights a week, and living in motels, but the truth is Ronnie Hawkins fell in love. He fell in love and got married and settled down because she didn’t want to live on the road. This, when the reputation of the Hawks was at its best – they were the best, knew it and wanted to get paid accordingly, and tendered a half-dozen offers to back other big-name acts, but they were now so tight with the music they knew they could make it on their own instead of as a backup band. They also had a few original songs they thought were pretty good; maybe even had enough original material to record an album one day.
All of the Hawks were Canadians except for Levon Helm, an Arkansas Razorback drummer who also fiddled around on a mandolin. After they left Ronnie Hawkins, Levon assumed the nominal leadership of the Hawks. Garth the organist, was by far the best musician of the group, and he taught the others a lot about the serious side of music, especially young guitarists Rick Danko on bass and Robbie Robertson on rhythm and lead, both of whom were boyishly handsome and got all the girls. And then there was Richard Manual on piano, who had a great voice – the vocal cords that could reach the kind of notes Roy Orbison could hit.
But it was Levon who Colonel Kutlets first convinced to take the job to play for seven weeks at Tony Marts on Bay Avenue in Somers Point, New Jersey, and pre-billed as the best rock and roll band around.
The Hawks had never been to Tony Marts and had never been to the Jersey Shore, but they heard a lot about it from other bands they ran into on the music circuit. They knew Tony Marts was a happening place and the area had good weather. And they would pull in about two grand a week – American, for those seven weeks, stay in one place and get paid for doing what they loved to do – playing their kind of music.
They say there’s only two kinds of music, good music and bad music, and while the Hawks had played their share of bad music, they were now a finely tuned, high energy rock and roll band.
Levon drove the big black sedan, with Robbie Robertson riding shotgun and serving as navigator, while Garth, the Quiet One, had the back seat all to himself, and he did what he usually did: just sat back and took it all in.
Richard Manual drove the Rambler filled with clothes and uniforms while grinning. Rick Danko drove the U-Haul, filled mainly with equipment – speakers, amps, guitars, two drum kits, a piano and Garth’s mammoth B-3 Hammond organ.
Unlike the movie, “Eddie the Cruisers,” in which the leather-jacketed Cruisers waltz in the front door and announce, “Tell Tony Eddie and Cruisers are here,” Levon parked next to the curb, a little up from the front doors so the truck could fit in and they could unload the equipment. One of the cleanup crew, broom in hand, led Levon through the dark club, past the upside down stools on the bars and out the back door, through the stacks of beer cases and kegs to Tony’s bunker office. The janitor knocked softly on the door, and without opposition from within, turned the knob, opened the door a crack and said, “Mister Marotta, Levon and the Hawks are here.”
“Good,” Tony said, as the door was opened wider, Levon was shown in and the janitor went off to help the Hawks unload their equipment.
Tony was a no-nonsense guy who sat at his desk across from Levon Helm and politely, but firmly, explained what he expected – four one-hour long sets a night, six nights a week – off Mondays, and a commitment to play until Labor Day. It was all in the contract. Tony explained that until they found a better place, they could stay upstairs in the dressing rooms of the old hotel, and after taking a drag on his cigar, he added emphatically: “And stay away from the go-go girls!”
Levon nodded his head in agreement, picked up his copy of the contract and shook Tony’s hand. The best part of the deal was the two grand a week, with a bonus if they finished their contract until Labor Day, divided six ways – Levon, Robbie, Garth, Richard, Rick and Colonel Kutlets, who arranged the deal and got his share of the stakes as if he was one of the band.
“Me and Colonel Kutlets have great faith in you boys,” Tony said, blowing smoke and mentioning that Conway Twitty had filled in like a trooper and left that morning to go on a short tour, but he was returning the following weekend for another run on the main stage. With Conway Twitty and the best rock and roll band around, everyone was expecting great things.
Out front, Levon was all smiles as he held the glass doors open so they could wheel in Garth’s B-3 Hammond organ to set up at the center of the main stage, where they would play until Conway Twitty came back and took his place as king of the hill.
After checking out the dressing rooms and facilities upstairs, and putting their stage clothes and belongings away, Levon and Garth decided to check out the neighborhood and scope out the scene. They walked across the street to the open air Clam Bar at Smith’s Pier, where they got a half dozen clams on the half shell, some steamers and chowder and learned from the waitress that some of the musicians and bartenders from Bay Shores rent rooms by the week at the Anchorage Hotel down the street.
Next Week: Episode 10
The Hawks Kick In at Tony Marts
