Well, here we go again folks. I must admit, this one has some extra baggage attached (not including the extra person, past trips were a quartet). Going through home territory, getting a chance to visit friends and programs, taking a trailer along (now I know some of you think it might be a bit cushy for a challenge but let me remind you that it makes mobility tougher, increases the gas factor--and let’s be frank <what instrument does he play?> did we ever think that filling the tank would be more than a room?) It also means the five of us are cramped into my pickup truck, so those who might want to accuse us of luxuriating while all of you are at home or on your summer vacation, I suggest you come along for a day or two…ha.
We go to the first going away party this afternoon, a chance to stuff our bellies’ and find out how many people are glad to get rid of us, of course food and wine sort of tilts the whole quotient. We also do our first packing and unpacking dry run, for our Route 66 trips this was done in Chicago, so this time if we jettison cargo we won’t have to pawn it. 
Now would be a good time to introduce the cast of characters:
I’m Bruce Forman, leader of this aggravation called Cow Bop and founder of JazzMasters Workshop (JMW), the program we are supporting through this madness, tour narrator...oh yeah, I also play the guitar
Pinto Pammy is our vocalist, band aesthetic, and photojournalist
Mike McKinley is riding the drums (never seen him bucked off once!) he is also Regional Director for JMW, he runs four or five workshops a week
Gabe Noel is our bass player, a new recruit, fresh from USC where he is still in school, awesome young player, he’ll teach us a few things
Noah Freedman, fiddle, soon to enter 11th grade at Carmel High, a JMW participant for the last few years, multi-talented, plays all styles, he’ll be in charge of technology and podcasting. He’s also an astro-physicist, but we already knew there were violinists in outer space.
Monique Bourin is events coordinator for JMW, she’ll caravan along, be our advance person and probably bail us out of jail if we stray in that direction. at least I hope she will…please!!!
Hank is our pickup truck, part Hank Williams part Hank Mobley, down home, soulful, tasty and swingin


Dinah is our trailer, she’s a 53 Westerner
Gotta go now, I’ll let you know how the shin digs…chow 

SUNDAY August 6

Getting ready to hitch up the trailer and head south. A bit of a change was made in the plans: due to an interview at KKJZ in Long Beach and our Kick-Off party in LA at the Crowne Plaza LAX, we have decided to depart from Dana Point (the southern terminus of Highway 1) on Tuesday. A lot of excitement is generated by the fact that we have a great gig on the deck at Big Sur River Inn on the way down and that Roger Kellaway, star of the piano, is gonna hang at the gig Monday night.

Just looking forward to meeting new people (sometimes very out of the ordinary, as witnessed by Duane Lee, who we met at an arch bridge on Route 66 in Kansas, that's his invention I'm playing, the 'panjo')


or see some truly historic American icons (such as the world's largest ketchup bottle in Collinsville, IL)


Never know what you'll come across out there, I highly suggest you come along for a piece of it. Use the 'band tracker' to find us. Until then, swing on, and remember a pledge, no matter how small, ensures that kids get a chance to play with the great musicians in their community and really makes us feel like our efforts are duly rewarded. 

WEDNESDAY August 9

First thing a.m. (all right, around 10:30) we tried to get back on the tee at Aliso Creek and play some more, but the golfers weren't going for it. Hey man, let us play through!

Back to reality. I'll admit it's been a while since our last trip down Route 66, so I was rusty when it came to the 'instant hits'. I tried to teach the others how to spot a likely place: plenty of people, ample space to play, no TV or loud music, and most corporate-owned places have rules about that kind of stuff (yikes) and we need to talk to someone who can say yes or no. Well, we tried a few, no luck, and frankly I thought I'd lost my touch and was a more than a bit concerned. I know they say inflation is under control, but try and buy breakfast for five, and look at the price of gas (although we don't need it yet). OK, I was worried. But alas, we moved into Palos Verdes and found a cute place called Kelly's Corner, an old post office, deli and tack store (nice combo, tailor-made for Cow Bop), and I talked them into a set.


Lots of people went by and stopped to hang out with us. They threw down enough to replenish our stash, I could feel it, the magic was back! We even got some horse-ridin youngsters to sit in on the box...swingin,

This cardboard box-drum thing is a bit of a signature for the band, I think Mikey is working on an endorsement (all you beer companies need to send samples if you're interested, he requested that they arrive full so he can road test them all). Kelly's treated us to the tastiest root beer floats I think I ever came across, of course the heat and humidity might have had something to do with my opinion. We played at a party in Andy Patman's backyard, lots of supportive folks contributed to the fun and the program. Andy & Kathy set a splendid table and the merriment flowed freely into the late evening. Don & Sue Miller showed up all the way from Phoenix, they run the Paradise Valley Jazz Party (and how I met Andy & Kathy in the first place) it was really great to see them. The band is picking it up a notch, just goes to show when you hit the road and live for playing (in this case literally) it takes the level of commitment to a higher level and effects the music in great ways. Music, live in front of folks makes it all work and the JazzMasters Workshop method was in full view...just play man! I know we have some converts and I hope we can set something up in this area, Tomorrow is an empty canvass, but I'm sure we'll be fillin it up with lots of swingin grooves and plenty of eighth notes. In any case, it'll be in the moment, which is where I hope all of you are, it's a wonderful world out here, come on out and join us. PS> Any ideas of places to visit or play along Highway 1 (use the tracker to find us) are extremely welcome, just comment to the blog or email from the site, I'll get it. The trailer awaits, I bid you all fondue

THURSDAY August 10

What a day! Woke up in the trailer on a hill, Pammy rolling halfway to PCH (Pacific Coast Highway). A light knocking on the door, and young Matt with a sign that said: French toast...didn't take us long to rouse and hit the kitchen. A great breakfast had us feeling pretty optimistic about the day. The grim news on the TV was startling, but we were thankful that our travel plans were more rustic than the airport.
 
We needed a plan, after a long discussion (you know, democracy is not necessarily the best way to run a band but thought I'd try it).  We decided to check out USC, where Gabe goes to school and I teach. Even though school isn't in session, we were hoping for freshmen orientation, early arrivals, old friends, anything. We went and hung out by the Commons and played a set.
 

While some of the people passing by hung out, it was amazing how invisible we were to most of them. I mean, how often is it that you pass a western swing/bebop band playing their heart out actually living off the whole experience? And I know you can feel it when you see and hear it. Now I don't expect everyone to love it...or help out, but an acknowledgement (a nod, eye contact, pulling those ear buds out of your ears) makes more difference than you can imagine. Sometimes it is hard to keep the whole thing in perspective, that and the pressure of keeping everyone on the same page...not to mention fed. It all went right when Mikey did a special solo on the bells of a local vendor's pushcart, and he played the box at the same time…ding ding!



After an hour or so, and running into some friends, we got the most polite eviction I ever experienced (polite eviction, not two words you commonly hear tied to each other). It went like this:
MR X: You can't play amplified music here
Noah (in the most diplomatic, respectful and peaceful tone you ever heard come out of a teenager's mouth, he's very well-trained): We are playing acoustic, we aren't plugged in
MR X: I meant no drums
Noah: He's playing a box!
MR X (exasperated): You're playing outside the Vice President's office...
At that point I jumped in and explained that I'm on staff....blah, blah, blah, we actually knew many people in common, so,  everything was hunky-dory, and it was time to split anyway. After that, we returned to the beach area, got the trailer (we'd left it behind) and headed to a where else? A wine bar.

The wine bar was fun, we played to a big crowd, Pammy was so inspired she took up the bass...nice try!! Hey we did well enough to fill the tank ...no, not with Bordeaux, Hank drinks a cruder vintage


Getting late now, got to get ready to blow this 20 million horse town. Was lots of fun, but now we're all looking forward to the open road. Hope it's cooler tomorrow, temperature I mean. Swing on folks, and please, remember why we are doing this. Your help (a pledge to JazzMasters Workshop) will go along way to ensure that kids get the opportunity to play with established pros, and it's a method that has over 100 years of success. 

See you somewhere soon I hope, reservoir!

FRIDAY August 11

Today Noah was a hero! First was brunch at the grandparents pad, an incredibly designed cottage, a meal to match. We ended up playing as long set, telling stories, we didn't want to leave. That's one of the things about these trips, as long as we are in a great place, we don't want to quit, because when we do it’'s back to the unexpected. While making music we are in our element, in control and unconcerned with the quotidian requirements that consume us the rest of the time.

Then after an unusual amount of 'no-play' zones, we found ourselves in Santa Barbara at a bountiful table, complete with family and friends, courtesy of, you guessed it: Noah! It turns out, Noah's mom's best friend was there to save us and next thing you know we're sharing one of those famously beautiful California summer eves on the porch, playing for the kids, telling stories and embraced by the warmth of family and new friends. It was miraculous. I hardly even remember the frustration and pressure of the day's strike-outs.

We were offered a lovely pad to hang at afterwards, a view with a house, we are looking over all of Santa Barbara, I can't wait to see the view by day, the lights and tonight's meteor shower is ridiculously beautiful. The house is totally empty, the folks who loaned it to us have yet to move in, not a prob for the Cow Bop road rats. This is one of the powerful parts of these trips, the overwhelming generosity of new friends'and all of you who pledge. makes the gargantuan effort worth it. Tomorrow, I plan to regain the Route 66 glory, I'm aiming for a minimum three hits…count 'em.

Got enough bread to make Big Sur. almost, yikes!

(sorry, no pics today, had to use a different uploading system due to connectivity challenges...plus, the hamsters are tired)

WEDNESDAY August 16

Puttin on the Ritz! OK, it's a first, we ate breakfast at the Ritz-Carlton, courtesy of Harold Fethe, JMW Board member and stellar guitar player. Thanks man, it's a far cry from the dollar meal at McD's, I'll tell you! Then we drove north, took on the Golden Gate Bridge and took some shots at the vista point (I'll post as soon as I get a fast connection).

We played and walked the town of Mill Valley met some great folks a made a podcast or two, didn't even get rousted by all the cops. I guess the band has taken it to a new level.

Then on to Fairfax, and our dear friends Wendy and Tim. First we went to a slamming dinner at Sorella's, a first-class Italian restaurant (and having been to Italy as many times as I have you can tell an impostor before you go in. This is the real deal). We ate family style, and they generously donated the meal to the cause...wow! What an eating day we had...it just kept getting better. We played some tunes in and out of the place and managed to stop in a few different places as we walked over to the hit to drum up (or in this case box up) some people for our hit at 19 Broadway. Man, what a fun time!  With all of the street hits, it was nice to play with amps and a full drum set, find out how the arrangements are faring, I must admit, I was not at all disappointed. Young Noah has taken his game to new level everyday, oh to be that young again. We had lots of sitters-in, even a mosh pit slam dance cow bop style session, you had to have seen it.

We have the long trek up the north coast now, real pioneering in store, wish us luck. The gig ran very late, we just didn't want to stop. However, I think I'll let this go for now and catch up tomorrow, stay tuned.

Gentle reminder: We're out here for JazzMasters Workshop, all of the funds we raised from tonight's gig were donated by everyone in the band. Can you help out too? Pleeeze!

THURSDAY August 17

Dear Mom,
Thanks for checking in on us again last night, and yes, I am taking good care of Noah. He's sleeping out under a beautiful canopy of stars. 

Well folks, we’'re almost there, and barring any unforeseen occurrences we should cross the finish line with ease on Saturday morning. We began the day with a leisurely departure from Fairfax, heading for the sleepy town of Olema. It’s a crossroads of sorts, with some nice eateries and shops, just down the road from Pt. Reyes Station. There is quite a musical history here, many of the rock bands from the Haight Ashbury days ended up in this area and still hang out and play around here. The town of Fairfax is a perfect example, quite amazing. For it's size there was a huge amount of musicians and places where music was being played…on a Wednesday night! They were all very receptive to our Cowbopping, and were taken aback by the musicianship of our younger guys. (I’'m old news in these parts).

Played for lunch in Olema and took on the Northern part of Highway 1, a curvy road that put me and the vehicles to the test, to say nothing of the passengers. Reminds me of the story:
A guy is overheard talking to his friend: 'I want go out like my granddad, sleeping, not screaming like the passengers in the car he was driving'

Now I drive extremely cautiously, especially with such precious cargo, but I'll bet it was as tough on the passengers as it was on me: many crazy drivers, tight curves, dips and the distraction of some of the most beautiful scenery that the earth has to offer. Talk about photo ops, it's easy to see how the highway has held it's distinction as one of the most coveted drives in the world. It never ceases to amaze, the engineering feat of creating the road in the first place, and the massive amount of effort, and money,it must take to keep CA Hwy 1 on the edge, not off or over. I have heard that it is the most expensive road in the country to maintain, and since 85% of statistics are made up on the spot, I’'m inclined to believe it.

We drove through some sleepy towns without stopping, besides the lack of people walking around, the fog had settled in and it was a tad chilly. Boy, how we'd have welcomed this in SoCal last week. About a half-hour south of Albion the sun came out. The transition was magical and cottony wisps seemed to hang of the trees that hung out over the road. Prisms of light showered the road and I could taste the soft salty air on my lips.

We stopped in and visited my friend Monterey Jack, one of the most generous and spirited supporters of the arts I have had the fortune to come across. He's a great friend to many jazz musicians along with being one of the more astute people you could ever hope to meet. He set us up where he lives now, with sculptor Richard Yaski. Richard has turned seven acres of Mendocino splendor into a garden that is magical. His large sculptures grace the natural beauty with a timeless and meditative feel that is hard to describe. Perhaps some of the pictures (I'll download them when we get a connection that is fast enough) will do it justice. His creativity also extends to dwellings, there is an old school bus that has morphed into a double-wide wooden palace, a cabin that seems as if it might be a trailer in search of a vintage vehicle to partner with, and a house that blends into the contour of the land. A nice space for concerts extends between the meditation garden and the house. His workshop is replete with every kind of tool and he gives a lot of his time to training and mentoring others who want to learn the crafts that it takes to create fine art. There is a definite resonance with the JazzMasters theme, he teaches by doing, forging a living context for the personal expression and continuum of the artistic process.

Jack took us around and we scouted a bunch of potential hits tomorrow, we decided to get in early and try to get an early start for what will likely be our last day 'on the edge'. I'll take this opportunity to revel in the accomplishment of doing and the idea that embracing the effort as the goal is what life is all about. It is tasting real sweet about now.
Wish you were here. 

FRIDAY August 18

Almost there. A swingin' day. It's always this way on the road, you really hit your stride and boom, it's on to the next. We must've played eight hours today, in the most varied settings, like nothing, too bad they don't have an Olympic sport for this.

We woke up in the woods and a fog had settled in, the wisps hung to the trees and sculpture. All sounds were muted by the heaviness of the air. There were roosters crowing, Gabe was playing long tones on Buddy Jones' bass. (Buddy was like a father to me, a Carmel Valley resident who introduced me to the joys of living there, a man who played with Bird and so many others, and now I have a precious piece of his history with me. He'd be happy to know his bass was out on the road like this for the cause we are supporting, ensuring this music is properly passed on to the next generation)

I woke to Noah's shoes and jacket strewn about, was afraid that a bear had found him, and was relieved to find him sipping tea and readying himself for a shower...whew! It turns out he was evading an angry yellow jacket.

We played at a thrift store in Ft. Bragg, run by a group that is the major, and in some cases sole,sponsor of disabled people's outreach efforts out here. This area is not your run of the mill place, it’s hours from a major metropolitan area and most everyone does their part to keep everything on track. It also is a better spot for street playing, as most of the people are not over-stimulated by media and mass population, they are appreciative and supportive and we are extremely grateful for our efforts and abilities.

The thrift store had a lot of cool stuff, but I was afraid to put my guitar down, thinking it would be quickly picked up by a wily bargain hunter. In fact, Patty (who runs the store) once set a sweater down and lost track of it, found it later in a rack and bought it without realizing it was already hers…true story, she swears.

After that they stoked us to a great pizza meal and we went back to Mendocino, a lovely little West Coast Cape Cod looking place, lots of tourists and plenty of cool locals. We spent the afternoon playing on the street in front of and inside various establishments, and ultimately at a great music store that also runs a music camp called Lark in the Morning, (see podcast). We regrouped after a windswept three or four hours and headed north to a hit at La Playa (or so we hoped). It is run by Marta, and once we played Sabor A Mi we were in. We played for diners and got a lovely dinner…swingin! Then the Mendo swing dance contingent found us there and we spent the rest of the evening hanging and playing for them, great party. Amazing how fast the grapevine moves in these places.

Now we're settled back in, looking for an early departure (that'll be a first) for the end of Hwy 1 and the finish line for our trek. It was quite a journey and I have a new appreciation for the undertaking, music and my fellow inhabitants of the planet. I'll wrap it all up tomorrow, as I’'m whipped right now. The rest are either sawing logs or checking their eyelids for leaks. At least I'll get a clear shot at the bathroom. I have the highest esteem for my fellow Cow Boppers, I know I have been demanding, often irascible and single-minded, had to, someone had to keep the train on the tracks. Their patience, tolerance and humor has made this work so well. Good goin guys, I noticed.

Now, to the great North, or at least Leggett, adios.

pics to follow when I get a quicker connection, come back and visit