Wildwood is a sea-side town in New Jersey, once considered a "hot spot" for vacationers. I understand that there's even a song about it - sort of a "beach-boy-do-wop" surfy kinda thing. I had never heard of this place until July of 1996. Things would have been simpler had it remained so, but alas, simple' is never in the cards for me. My saga began with a phone call.
"I have booked you the GREATEST gig!" It was my brother, Danny.
"Tell me," I said.
"There's this place in Jersey. Wildwood. Every summer, they throw this outdoor festival and thousands of people go! I just got off the phone with the head coordinator and YOU'RE gonna play there!"

"Any pay involved?"
"Not really, but think about it! Some radio stations cover this festival, supposedly some cable television stations, too - so the exposure will be tremendous!"
For a singer/songwriter in a rock band, this was exhilarating news - especially since having just given several New York radio interviews to promote my latest CD. Things were swingin', as they say.
Until recently, I had managed my own career. One of my duties (aside from writing and performing) was booking gigs. Danny was a novice in the music industry when I accepted his offer to manage us. Ideally, this arrangement would lighten my load, enabling me to focus on my art.

Wildwood was the first big booking that Danny handled, and it sounded like a doozy.
"Wooo-hoooo!" I crowed, " How far is this place?"
"Roughly a five-hour drive. We'll have to rent a van. It'll be like a mini-tour!"
"What about hotel reservations?"
"No need. There are hundreds of motels in the area. We can take our pick when we get there."
"Excellent! Good job, Dan!"
"All in a days work."
Hanging up, I executed a little dance. What a manager!
I'll take this opportunity to introduce my band, beginning with Craig, the bass player - a mellow, humorous guy. (We were romantically involved.) Then there was Rick - our hyper, somewhat neurotic drummer. Last but not least was a guitarist named Tom, a/k/a "Glommy".
Glommy was a bizarre character. He was oblivious to his "nickname", earned due to the fact that he badgered me into hiring him in the first place (thus, "glomming" his way into the band). His guitar-playing was questionable - occasionally inspired - more often shoddy. Unhappily married to a miserable woman who resented his musical' activities, famous for patronizing topless bars with alarming frequency, he effortlessly

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