Ever since its inception in the late 1960s and early '70s, I've
hated bubblegum music. You know, the sickening-sweet songs that sought
to stroke the heartstrings of teenage girls, then called
"teenyboppers."
Except for The Archies, even the groups' names were sickeningly
sweet -- Banana Splits, The Yummies, The Sugar Bears.
And the lyrics! "Oh, Sweet Pea, come on and dance with me/come
on, come on, come on and dance with meeeee."
Yuck.
But as I perused the Musikfest offerings for Thursday, a listing
jumped off the page, smacking me like a two-ton punch in the
midsection of my memory: "1910 Fruitgum Company (rock/oldies),
6:30-8:30 p.m., Plaza Tropical."
Was it possible, I thought, that the 1910 Fruitgum Company's
drummer was the original drummer? Odds were 100-to-1, at best, after
all these years. And if so, would he even remember me?
You see, back in 1968, at the height of 1910 Fruitgum Company's
popularity, the band's drummer borrowed my drums.
It was at the Civic Center in Omaha, Neb., where my band, The
Reign, was playing in a battle-of-the-bands competition, with headline
artists like Fruitgum as a draw to the musical convocation.
The Fruitgum Company's drummer breathlessly approached me, saying
he needed a trap set. Some of their equipment hadn't arrived,
including his drums, and they were to go on in 10 minutes.
After sizing this guy up, my 16-year-old persona (now long gone)
said, "OK. You're a drummer, I'm a drummer. We have to trust one
another and help each another out."
He offered me $50 for use of my drums, but I didn't take it,
telling him that if there was any damage, I'd take the money then.
Fruitgum's set came off without a hitch (and without damage to my
drum set).
Fast-forward to today. It turns out that, indeed, Fruitgum's
drummer, Floyd Marcus, is the same drummer I loaned my trap set to 36
years ago. He's one of two founding members of the band, the other
being Frank Jeckell, band leader and guitar player.
Marcus didn't remember borrowing my trap set in Omaha, but said
he'd been in many similar situations during the band's early years,
once even banging out percussion on a toy drum set at a gig in
Minnesota.
"I remember most appearances when we were with The Beach
Boys," Marcus said. "Otherwise, it was get in, get
out."
Band founder Frank Jeckell said he remembered the Omaha gig.
"It was March 1968. We flew into Omaha." That's why, Jeckell
explained, the band didn't have all its equipment.
About his years on the music road, Marcus said, "Sometimes you
meet people years later; it's just such a coincidence. It can be so
bizarre."
After pretty much breaking apart after their early years of
bubblegum success, the 1910 Fruitgum Company reconstituted itself
about three years ago as a cover band for 1960s music, playing hits
like "More Today than Yesterday" by the Spiral Staircase,
"Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, "Midnight
Confession" by the Grass Roots and leavening their hits,
"Simple Simon Says," "May I Take a Giant Step?"
and "Goody, Goody Gumdrops," with '60s Motown medleys that
include such stalwarts as "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" and
"Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch)."
Musikfest revelers, some 2000 strong, swayed to the beat of the
re-born 1910 Fruitgum Company's rhythms, braving intermittent drizzle
that increased to genuine rainfall by concert's end.
About the crowd's response to the Fruitgum Company's performance,
the group's first appearance at Musikfest, Marcus said, "It was
great. We've got to give them a lot of credit to stay in the rain, and
to all the women dancing. You have to love the people for staying.
That was very nice of the people out here."
I'll never get over my abhorrence of bubblegum music, but the 1910
Fruitgum Company has developed into a class act.
