When Publisher Peter Rodgers and Editor Job Vigil of The Telegraph started picking on my tie, I’ll bet they had forgotten that I sometimes write for their paper. Never pick on someone who writes for your paper. Of course they wield the power of the veto, but I’m counting on Pat Dannatt to stick up for me.
Tammy and I almost didn’t go to Da Buzz for the concert on Valentine’s Day. It was very cold outside, and we got home late, and hey, it was just Chuck Salestrom and Job and Peter. So totally hometown. If they were real musicians, would two of them still be sorting through nasty letters to the editor every week?
Still, I had made two reservations that morning, so there was no turning back We got there five minutes late and rushed in to discover that my untypical foresight in making reservations had landed us in a softly luxurious loveseat right in front of the trio. In a full-to-capacity room of hard chairs around small tables, I felt a little too privileged, like we were sitting in someone else’s seat and would soon be told to get up and get out of their way. But it did say “Snells” on the little card, so we plunked down and cuddled.
Well, we didn’t cuddle quite yet. First Chuck had to rib us by asking if we’d come on my boat, and Peter had to make some wisecrack about “Do the 52,” and Job had to tell everyone that my white tie looked thirty years old.
“How do you spell T-H-R-I-F-T C-O-N-N-E-C-T-I-O-N?” I answered. Which immediately made them regret their jokes, because they’d just given me some free advertising, which drives newspaper people crazy. Yes, that’s Thrift Connection, 422 E. 6th St. So there.
It wasn’t the last laugh. All through an evening of love songs, the jokes and bantering kept Tammy and me in stitches, and I promise you it wasn’t because we’d been drinking. Nope, cross our hearts we’re doing the whole 52 alcohol-free. They are just plain funny guys. Somewhere in the past month or two Job’s goatee had migrated to Chuck’s chin, picking up a little more gray on the way, but apparently none of anyone’s hair had migrated to Peter’s head.
When they played and sang, Peter’s brow furrowed in concentration, Job’s smile widened broadly and Chuck looked as contentedly relaxed as if this were even more fun than being the P.R. guy at the college. They were clearly enjoying themselves more anyone else in the room, perhaps because they knew we’d actually paid for this. They dedicated songs to their special gals, took turns leading off and sometimes sang in beautiful harmony. Job even impersonated Elvis, although he did feel the need to tell us who he was impersonating.
I was trying to figure out how they got started doing this, but I really don’t want to research it. I mean, if they can write opinions without researching them, so can I. (Oooooh. Now I bet they wish they hadn’t picked on my tie and my boat.) I’m thinking Peter said to Job, “If you want to be the editor-in-chief, you’ll have to sing with me.” And after Job had had a chance to think about it for a while, he said to his wife, “Well, I don’t know which would be most embarrassing, so I guess I’ll do both.” And she agreed with one caveat: “Just don’t ever play at Da Buzz.” And the next day Peter said, “Great. Let’s start by playing at Da Buzz.”
It’s not really a describable event. All sorts of music, including lots of oldies, some Gospel and one classical. Job’s wondrously fun ad libs on the piano, which in one Beatle’s song went on so hilariously long between Peter’s lines that we worried Peter would forget where he was. Chuck’s experienced bass guitar and oh-so-perfect harmonies. Peter’s deadpan comments about wishing they’d practiced more and stopped sooner.
The dessert bar was amazing, homemade by Job’s wife Gail. She certainly deserved to have a song dedicated to her. I don’t know which angel made our caramel hot chocolate, but it was heavenly.
All three signed my passport, perhaps the first thing they’ve ever been asked to autograph. On the way home I said to Tammy, “That has to be one the funnest evenings we’ve ever had in North Platte. “
“Let’s do it again,” she answered. And so we will. Watch the Community Calendar in plattepost.com for upcoming opportunities to join us.
When you “Do the 52,” expect to be totally entertained. Right here in our hometown.