Remembering by Radha Botofasina
I sang background for the first time on stage with Dr. John (Malcolm John Rebennack a/k/a Mac). The venue was in New Jersey, where he had two backup singers and one was not available. Charles Neville, a friend from New Orleans took me up to Mac's room at the Mayflower hotel in New York City. I sang a few notes and Mac invited me to sing on the gig that night. Once we arrived at the gig, his road manager pulled a trunk into the middle of the green room and told us to find something to accessorize our outfits. I choose an ostrich feather boa that hung down to my knees. The music was pretty simple, everything was going fine, until there was a big Kaboom! sound on stage. I turned around and the percussionist had passed out on stage, completely drunk. I kept on singing, when Dr. John, sang his hit song Right Place Wrong Time. My ears went crazy. I couldn't stand to hear his voice that sounded like gravel poured over asphalt. After the gig, Dr. John offered me the job, next day we would be in Canada, but I turned him down because I had dreamt this whole experience a year before and the dream ended with me saying "I hate his voice!"
Exit Carefully by Dr Diva Joan Cartwright
I missed the last train to Cuneo from Torino, Italy, in the first week of December of 1990. It was 11:30 p.m., as I watched the regional train leave the station without me on it. At first, I panicked. Then, I rationed that I needed a hotel room, since it was snowing. I walked out of the train station through the nearest exit and across the street was the Turin Palace Hotel. I scurried across the snow-laden street with my suitcase and entered the hotel lobby. The reservationist arranged a room for me and I was in a hot tub by midnight. I called my BFF with the phone on the wall with a lengthy cord. We giggled about my missed train and the luxurious suite I found myself in. But it was chilly and I never figured out how to turn the heat up. Early the next morning, I called my pianist Angel Unia to tell him I was in Torino. He asked me where I was. When I told him the Turin Palace, he yelled, “Joan, what are you doing there? Are you crazy?” The room was $260 a night! I said, “Do we have some gigs?” He said, “Yes.”I said, “Well, just come and get me, and bring my money!” Angelo scowled and said he would be there within an hour. Compare this with the day I arrived in Munich, Germany, in 1993. I looked around for a hotel near the train station. The one I chose shall forever go unnamed. It was filthy. I left my bag there when I went to Club Allotria to see Freddie Hubbard perform. That was the magical night I learned that my song, Sweet Return, was in his song book. Instead of spending the night in that nasty hotel that cost me $80, I collected my suitcase and went to the train station where I slept on the floor with skinheads until time to board my train.
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The moral of this story is be careful which exit you take at the train station. Your choice of hotels may depend on it!
