Part one: California Zephyr: Getting in
When I graduated from UC Davis in the mid-1970s with a degree in Zoology, I decided, like so many others in my place might have, to join an established band, and go on to make dozens, if not scores, of dollars and a few platinum albums while partying on the road in style. Hopes for that idea began to fade after a few minutes, until I met the California Zephyr band in 1976. California Zephyr at the time was about a year past its founding, and the band had already released an album and had made many Northern California fans including several of my banjo students. I saw California Zephyr at the long-defunct Davis CA club “Cassadys,” itself a good idea thwarted after just three years by circumstances. It was a great club for most of its existence (1976—79) though, and it hosted David Bromberg, The New Riders of The Purple Sage, Commander Cody, Norton Buffalo, Asleep at the Wheel, The Newgrass Revival, and dozens of other good to great acts including California Zephyr; the club was by far the “happening” night spot for many miles around. I lived a couple of blocks up the street from Cassadys, and I resolved to hear this band about whom I had heard so much.
At the time the members of California Zephyr included Alan Arnopole of Modesto (guitar and banjo and great vocals—“The Modesto Blue Yodeler”), Doug Benson of Graton via Oakland (guitar, harmonica, mandolin and also great vocals), Mark Masarek of San Rafael via Philadelphia (peerless fiddle, viola, and uniqueness), Mark Raus of Marin County (acoustic and electric bass, occasional guitar and clarinet), and, the most recent hire, Tom Bischoff of Santa Rosa via Berkeley (drums). CZ proved to be memorable in the best of ways. They were the complete package–they had sparkling vocals, great harmonies, excellent to fantastic musicianship, great stage presence, wonderful humor, solid rhythm, and musically they were also so extremely tight that in my opinion they redefined the concept. Of course, the band was named for the legendary train, which operated originally between Oakland and Chicago and was famous for traversing some of the most scenic parts of the west. Western Pacific, which owned the train and associated trademarks, had readily granted the band permission to use the original, equally legendary California Zephyr logo in the band’s promotions and album covers.
Only about 20% of California Zephyr’s material was derived from bluegrass (mostly standards)–they were by no means a bluegrass band and they did not present themselves as one. They instead called their material “Good Time Country Music,” with several country standards (primarily Jimmie Rodgers to Hank Williams with a smattering of Ernest Tubb and Merle Haggard), but with at least 50% excellent to great original material. Every tune, original or standard, was presented with panache and self-assurance, no missteps, no stumbles, no losing track, no apologies. The band wanted for nothing. Well, except me, who by about the third tune that night thought “I must become part of this.” A broken guitar facilitated my introduction–Alan’s nice old Martin D-28 fell off its stand and crashed onto the stage floor, snapping the peghead. This was during the first of four sets that night and it was clear to me that he wasn’t going to be able to pull it off with just the banjo. I approached the stage in between tunes and asked Alan if he would like to use a loaner for the rest of the evening, and soon I was on my way home to pick up my D-28. Alan played myguitar for the rest of the evening, and he spent the downtime talking to me. We realized that we had met years before, he was aware of my musical abilities, and he invited me to sit in with the band the next time they were in town. In short order I found myself with the coveted job and we were on our way.
Now to be clear, the primary reason the band wanted me was not because I was proficient on the banjo, the mandolin, andflatpicked guitar, and mildly proficient on the fiddle, it was because I had recently on a whim taken up the pedal steel guitar, something the band felt it needed. I said that it would be a few months of heavy woodshedding before I deemed my pedal steel work ready for the stage, and they were agreeable to that. My other musical skills proved quite useful to California Zephyr in the interim. Melding the sounds of my playing with the sounds of California Zephyr proved simple enough because the band was so together, and I brought in some of my own specialties like Dixie Breakdown and Turkey in the Straw on the banjo, Dusty Miller and Rawhide on the mandolin, Salt Creek and Clarence White’s Julius Finkbine’s Rag on the guitar, and a fiddle duet on Orange Blossom Special, all of which the band welcomed. Months later when I started playing the pedal steel on stage, I found that half my job was going to be doing just that. For months and years, we played in California, Arizona,and Nevada, I played (and improved) more than I ever had, and I learned more than I thought I ever would.
But I never thought that my job description would include diesel mechanics.
