TRIBUTE
MEMOIRS OF FRANK LAFARO Skipping ahead to 1989 ...... I bumped into an old acquaintance who told me that Billy was booking acts through his agency, Southside Productions. I looked him up. We hugged and shook hands, happy to be reunited. I was looking for work as a lounge singer/piano player. One of the Essentials happened to be leaving to sing full time with The Tokens (The Lion S l e e p s To n i g h t ) and Billy asked me if I wanted to join his band.
from the Army, prior to being shipped off to Vietnam, I drove up to visit them. They lived in a tough neighborhood known as Bedford Stuyvesant. I’d made several friends in the service from various areas of the borough. Other than that, all I knew about Brooklyn was what I’d read. I twas a warm, sunny evening in Spring when we packed up the van with our various instruments and sound system, microphones and
the place was the Brown Derby. It was a social club of a New York Crime Family known as The Gambinos. We lugged in our equipment and passed an ominous sight. To my left stood a four or five foot high brick wall, inside the building, along the entire front wall behind the large picture window. I began to get a mental image of what we were about to experience. I was not disappointed. We made three trips past this interior wall until all our equipment was set up and in place on the stage. Once finished, we waited, waited then waited some more. We made no pit stop on the road. I needed to use the restroom, found the door, entered and bellied up to the urinal to relieve myself.
I said sure, why not? Two or three weeks prior to New Year 1990, I did my first gig as an alternate lead singer and background vocalist with Billy & the Essentials. We played many of the Atlantic City Casinos, among numerous other venues over the next five years that I was with them. All during that time period, we had a homegig, a permanent venue at a restaurant/motor lodge called Mr. T’s, in Delaware County. Four nights a week, three weeks out of five, for five years. We had a ball! Great times. We packed the place every Friday & Saturday night. During my first year with the band, Billy told us we were going to Brooklyn, NY to do a gig. Sounded exciting. I’d only been to Brooklyn once before. I had family there, on my father’s side. During leave
stands, and pulled out of Mr. T’s parking lot and headed north. The ride was bumpy. The vehicle was in desperate need of shocks, but it was destined to get us safely to our destination. We drove for well over an hour before we exited the New Jersey Turnpike and headed toward the Verrazano Bridge and into the Bayside area of Brooklyn. WE pulled up to this single story brick building. The first thing I noticed was a huge circular window in the center of the structure. The door was to the right. That’s where we would be schlepping our gear through to the stage area. We exited the van and stretched our legs after the long ride. It was dusk and still light out. There was no identifying marquee but we were told that the name of
word.
A guy came in and took the one to my right. He placed a .22 on the porcelain shelf in front of him. I couldn’t help but give a quick side glance. He noticed and offered a comforting
He said, “Don’t worry, we all carry them”. I nodded, rinsed off my hands and headed back to my friends. The place was packed. Dozens & dozens of Italian men of various ages, well dressed and accompanied by these gorgeous women, dressed to the nines. This was Sunday night. Sunday nights were not for the wives, but for the goomahs, the other women. I recall thinking that these femme fatales resembled to a Venus De Milo (with arms).
I’M ITALIAN - SUMMER- 2022
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