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Rick
Archer's Note:
Patricia's
discovery of the Victoria Affirmation
was jarring to say the least. I am completely serious
when I say Patricia's unexpected intervention prevented an
affair from taking place. I might add that it was a
major coincidence that she discovered the Affirmation in the
first place. Was this coincidence an accident?
Or was it Fate in action? They say the Lord works in
mysterious ways. Given that I was teetering on the
edge of a terrible mistake, it crossed my mind that Patricia
may very well have been guided to discover the Affirmation.
So I decided to analyze the coincidence.
This was the
first time Patricia had ever been in my house. That in
itself was rather odd. And what was her reason to
explain the discovery? Patricia said she needed a
pencil. That was fishy. What woman doesn't have
a pen or pencil in her purse? I estimate 98% of all
women carry a writing utensil in their purse. For that
reason, maybe this was not an accidental coincidence.
Maybe Patricia decided to snoop.
I went to my
desk. To my
surprise, there were no pens or pencils atop my
desk. Hmm. This was unlike me. I
always have a pen within easy reach on top of my desk. For
example, as I type this story, I have two pens atop
my desk. My middle drawer was reserved for pens and pencils
while my two side drawers
contained letters, bills and documents.
If she wanted a pencil, why not open the obvious middle drawer first?
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If I were to
believe her story, she would have to skip the middle drawer
and search my side drawers first. The Affirmation was
in my side drawer, but
not
in plain sight. There were several bills on top to obscure it.
That meant Patricia would
have to remove a small layer of papers to find the Affirmation. Why would
someone lift a layer of paper to find a pencil or pen?
More likely Patricia was looking for love letters or
incriminating photographs (of which there were
none). Furthermore, why even bother looking through my desk
when there were a dozen pencils and pens laying around my house in
plain sight? As a bachelor, I was under no obligation to an
OCD wife to keep things neat and tidy.
I already knew
Patricia was a liar, so that gave me a reason to discount
her claim that she was not snooping. In fact, I think
that was exactly what she was doing. If so, her
discovery was not an accident at all, which in turn
suggested 'Fate' had nothing to do with this.
And yet a part of me felt like Fate had been involved. Why?
Because it was Weird. Because the Impact was so great.
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Here is my
point. Where
do unexpected ideas come from? Let me explain. If Fate does
exist, then certain things are "Meant to Happen".
One way to make something happen is to plant an idea in
someone's mind. Many people are uncomfortable with this concept, claiming it
violates their Free Will.
When I was 5
years old, I received a sudden urge to play an arcade game
next to a race track
at a carnival. This sudden idea was so important that I grabbed my
father's hand to insist. At that exact moment the
driver of a giant race car lost control. His car broke
through a fence at 120 mph, missed hitting us by a
whisker, then crashed into a nearby telephone pole. Had I not stopped, my father and I would have
been in the car's path. Did my father complain that my
Free Will was violated? No. He believed an
angel's suggestion had saved us.
Out of the blue
J.K. Rowling had a vision of the entire Harry Potter plot
line on a train trip. Did Ms. Rowling complain that
her Free Will was violated? No. She was deeply
grateful, especially when she later realized the Impact of
her vision. Ms. Rowling is a gifted writer, so maybe
she took credit for the idea. More likely she thought
Fate handed her this life-changing gift.
On the
night I ran into Bob at Patricia's apartment, I was
headed home after class. Out of nowhere I
changed my mind and decided to head over to
Patricia's apartment instead. "By
coincidence" I caught Patricia red-handed.
Afterwards, I asked
myself if I had received a telepathic signal to
visit Patricia's apartment.
On the
day Patricia stayed at my house, "by coincidence"
she discovered my Affirmation. What gave her
the idea to start snooping in the first place? Whether Patricia was
telling the truth or not, her discovery was still quite a
coincidence. For one thing, the Timing was curious.
The tell-tale Affirmation had just been written, so the one
time she comes to my house, there it is waiting to be found.
It was such an improbable discovery, I wonder if Patricia received a telepathic suggestion
to go looking around.
The main reason
Patricia's unexpected discovery was significant was the Impact.
I was not mad at Patricia. In fact,
I was secretly relieved she
found the Affirmation. Patricia's outrage
served as a much-needed wake-up call to quell my
ardor for Victoria at a time when I was out of
control. My ensuing shame stopped a likely conflagration in its tracks. It
was such a Lucky Break for me, I could not help but wonder
if someone had been watching over me.
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MAGIC CARPET RIDE: THE DISCO YEARS |
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073 |
Suspicious |
Coincidence |
1979 |
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Patricia
discovers Victoria's Affirmation while searching for a pencil at Rick's house and
goes ballistic. The result is Rick's firm decision to fight Victoria's
temptation with every last ounce of his will power. |
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072 |
Suspicious |
Coincidence |
1979 |
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A
last-minute decision to visit Patricia's apartment catches Patricia red-handed
with Bob |
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MAY 1979, the disco years
lance Stevens
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One might think
the Year
of Living Dangerously consisted exclusively of bizarre
dramas created by the Temptation Triangle.
Not so. Misery came from many directions. The constant tension between Lance Stevens
and myself threatened to ruin everything. Here at the
year and a half point of our relationship, I no longer
worked for Stevens. I was now his tenant. How
did this happen? During 1978, Word of
Mouth, Yellow Pages, and Courses a la Carte brought
countless students to
Stevens' doorstep. Unfortunately for Stevens, his
inconceivable decision to let me teach classes of my own
under his roof had allowed this preposterous flip-flop in our
fortunes to take place. So what went wrong for Stevens? Let's
start with Ted Weisgal. The moment Ted left
Courses a la Carte and joined forces with
Class Factory, the fortunes
of CALC plummeted so
precipitously that it went out of business. This loss
not only
deprived Stevens of his major 1978 source of students, it
led to my fortuitous alliance with Class Factory.
Next came
Victoria's suggestion to create a mailing list and publish
my business phone number. My monthly mailing list
regarding upcoming classes
redirected 'Word of Mouth' phone calls that used to go Stevens
to me instead. Whenever a former student told
a friend about my program, the friend was told to call me
directly for information. The greatly diminished
Word of Mouth deprived Stevens of his other major source of
new students.
Stevens still got the occasional random phone call for Disco
lessons, but it was reduced to a trickle. Stevens no
longer got enough calls to justify hiring me to teach a new
class, so he turned into my landlord instead of my boss.
The mailing list
was a gold mine and Class Factory was sending me scads of new
Disco students every month. In other words, Stevens'
Disco oil well went dry
while mine began pumping wildly. Here in May 1979, I was
teaching 16 Disco classes a week, Victoria was teaching 4
and Lance Stevens had none.
Stevens was still making money.
I paid Stevens
about $1,200 a month to rent rooms from him which was good
money in those days. However that was
a drop in the bucket compared to the $3,000-$5,000 a month
he had raked in back when I worked for him in 1978. After
paying Victoria's salary and paying rent to Stevens, I cleared about $3,000 a
month, double the income I once
made working for the Child Welfare agency. However, Patricia let the air out of my
balloon by claiming Disco would never last. Then she
added sooner or later Lance Stevens would lose his temper
for stealing his business
and kick me out.
I had to admit
Patricia had a point there. It had to rankle Stevens
no end that the 'Dance Teacher who Couldn't Dance'
had stolen the Disco program right from under his nose.
If the man ever came to his senses, at the very least he
should have had presence of mind to renegotiate our
agreement. Instead Stevens said nothing and let his
frustration build. There was no doubt in my mind that the Lance Stevens volcano was sure to erupt
someday. I
lived in constant fear.
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MAY 1979, the disco years
THE
WESTERN TRANSFORMATION CONTINUES
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In addition, there was an emerging
threat that could potentially be more serious than Volatile
Victoria and Lance
Stevens put together. That was the aggravating mystery known as
The Western Transformation.
Starting with
Cowboy in February, over the past three months it
seemed like a dozen Discos had closed only to reopen several
weeks later as a C&W bar. I had absolutely no idea how to cope with this
bizarre phenomenon.
It was
maddening to watch one Disco after another turn into a
Country bar without explanation. What would I do if Disco disappeared?
It drove me to madness that I could not figure out
what caused this Transformation in the first place. Why were Discos
closing all over town? I had no
clue. All I knew was that I was
scared. If this trend continued, I could be witnessing
an extinction-level event to my dance career. The problem just kept getting worse with no
signs of abating. To me, this signaled the imminent
Death of Disco in Houston somewhere down the road.
As backdrop to
my dilemma, at this exact same time... May 1979... Disco was going nuts
throughout the nation. Why on earth was Houston
going the opposite direction? There had to be an
explanation, but try as I might, I drew a complete blank. I worried so much about this problem I
thought I would lose my mind. Perhaps I was under the
spell of Cosmic
Stupidity because not once did I have the sense to visit a
Western Club and check things out. In particular, I
stubbornly I
refused to set foot at Cowboy, the three
million dollar Western Club that started this mess
in the first place.
If I had a brain... and we know
that sometimes I lacked one... I would have gone up to
the manager at Cowboy and asked for insight. "Mr. Manager,
sir, can you tell me where the idea to close a popular Disco
and replace it with a C&W Club came from?"
Did that thought
ever cross my mind? No! Absolutely not. I
assumed the answer would appear eventually, so I remained
passive. This insipid approach left me completely in
the dark for the entire year.
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MAY 1979, the disco years
FOXHUNTER DIES,
COWBOY TAKES ITS PLACE
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The Disco Era
consisted of two separate periods. Part One was was the
Donna Summer-Gloria Gaynor Era. Part Two was the John
Travolta-Bee Gees Era.
I began taking
Disco lessons in 1974. Due to my slow learning curve,
it took me three years to finally develop into a good dancer.
During this time, 1974-1977, various Disco
clubs opened one by one. Uncle Sam's,
Dome Shadows, and Rubaiyat to name
a few. Other notables included Second Office Club,
Daddy's Money,
Crazy Banana, Bonaparte's Retreat,
The Place, Chio's, Barbary
Coast, and Genesis. There were several gay Discos here in Houston. The best
known was the Farmhouse.
The first Disco
Era was on its
death bed at the end of 1977. People were getting
tired of the music, so the experts predicted a new type of
sound would take over in 1978. However, the experts
had no idea that the December 1977 debut of Saturday
Night Fever would breathe new life into this dying
format.
With the Bee Gees and Donna Summer spinning
their Disco Magic, in 1978 places like Tingles,
Cooters, Mirage, Ciao,
elan, Pistachio Club, Annabelle's,
Xanadu, Spats,
Lighthouse, Roxy, Ritz,
Todd's and Boccaccio's
joined the crowd. Plus several whose names I have forgotten.
These clubs opened in response to heavy demand.
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At some point, I
estimate there were over 30 Discos in Houston. One of my favorites was
Foxhunter,
a meat market with a giant
mirror on the ceiling. It had two levels with a decor
so garish one had to be Euro-trash to appreciate it.
Since I never claimed to have taste,
I loved the Foxhunter. To my great
regret I never found a
Fox to call my own. However it was not for lack of trying.
One night I did a serious
double-take when I noticed Frank Zappa in the packed crowd.
Zappa was known as the semi-insane front man for
the Mothers of Invention rock band. He
was just wandering
around and walked right past me looking for action.
I'm not sure anyone recognized him because he was completely
by himself.
Later
in the night
Zappa visited the DJ booth and got himself
introduced to the crowd. Zappa welcomed everybody and
said he really liked this place. He told everyone to go
have a
drink on him. We were to tell the bartender to charge it to him and,
"if we were lucky enough to
get reamed tonight" (his words), be sure to thank him. I took Zappa at his word
only to be handed a bar tab by a grinning bartender.
Since I
had to pay for my drink and didn't get "reamed"
either, I went home disappointed
in Frank Zappa. I would have burned one of his albums,
but I didn't own any.
I have mentioned
Foxhunter for a reason. Owned by
McFaddin-Kendrick, Foxhunter had to die in
order for Cowboy to move into its location.
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Prior to
Cowboy,
I knew
of only two Country-Western clubs. Gilley's
was in
Pasadena and the
Winchester Club was located in a Houston enclave known as
Bellaire. Throughout the Disco Years... 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977,
1978... to my knowledge not a single new Western club appeared.
Let me say that again. NOT ONCE DID A NOTABLE NEW WESTERN CLUB
APPEAR IN HOUSTON DURING THE FIVE YEAR DISCO ERA.
That changed in
February 1979 when Foxhunter closed and re-opened as
Cowboy. That marked the start of
the Great Mystery. Not a day passed when I did not ask myself
why
a thriving Disco like
Foxhunter would take
a wild gamble on
Western Dancing. At the time, I
assumed Cowboy was a dumb experiment surely to fail. That is because I knew there was
absolutely no interest in Western Dancing.
Therefore, imagine my consternation when Cowboy
initiated the Western Transformation.
In short order
Cowboy was
followed by Rodeo, Bullwhip,
Desperado,
Diamondback, Fool's Gold, Broncos,
Whiskey River, Wild West,
San Antone Rose, Texas, Dallas,
Midnight
Rodeo to name a few.
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Every one of
these clubs took the place of a Disco that had occupied the same location. In addition, there were other
western clubs
springing up in the outlying parts of the Houston area.
One of these newcomers was the Cactus Club.
What the heck
is going on here? How could five years pass without
the appearance of a single Western club only to have over a dozen Western clubs open in less than four months?
This was insane! Even more maddening was the loss of
Disco clubs.
Invariably, a Disco would close and a Western club would
appear in the same spot three weeks later.
Foxhunter
became Cowboy. Rubaiyat became
the
Bullwhip. Ciao became
Rodeo. Xanadu
became Desperado.
Mirage
became San Antone Rose. Nor was there any
sign of abatement to this depressing trend. Each
month, two or three Discos fell and two or three new Western
clubs appeared. Pretty
soon there would be no Discos left.
WHYYYYYY???
Why
were all these Western clubs appearing all of a sudden? The
Western Transformation was driving me crazy because my business sense
was being violated. I always assumed a club owner
opens a club because he senses a growing interest.
Likewise, an owner changes the club
format when there is a drop off in business. For example,
when Saturday Night Fever hit, Houston
nightclubs reacted swiftly with a dozen new Discos appearing
in short order. That made sense, but not the Western
clubs. They were opening despite a total lack of
interest in Country-Western dancing.
The only enthusiasm for Western dancing I knew of existed
in Pasadena, not in Houston. This transformation
violated all the rules. Disco business was good,
interest in Western was non-existent. Why would these
businessmen take such a gamble? There had to be an explanation, but no one I talked to knew
the answer. I simply could not understand why a
successful club like Foxhunter would change its spots
with no apparent reason.
Someone
suggested Cowboy was a way to test for any
interest in Country dancing in the middle of the City.
I snorted with disgust. Hey, it is called "Country"
for a reason! This form of dancing started in the
Country and (in my opinion) needed to stay there. I
cannot speak for every Houstonian, but throughout my
childhood and early adult years I never even heard that
Country-Western clubs existed. We lived in the "City",
not the "Country". We were City Slickers, not Country
Kickers. In the circles I ran in, Houston's interest in Country dancing was
non-existent on the day that Cowboy opened.
But, okay, maybe someone is exploring to see if
there is a market for Country dancing in the heart of the
Big City. However, at the very least, let's take
things slowly. What do you do before you get in the bathtub?
You stick your toe in to avoid scalding or freezing.
As for Cowboy, why bet the farm on an
expensive experiment? You take it slow, you evaluate,
you draw conclusions. Not so with Cowboy.
THREE
MILLION DOLLARS was budgeted for remodeling, a huge risk
considering there was no apparent market. I was
baffled. Where did all this confidence come from?
Then it got worse. Practically overnight all these new
Western clubs began springing up like unwanted weeds in the
garden. These clubs did not even bother to wait for
the results of the
Cowboy experiment, they just plunged right in.
I was stupefied.
Why
would all these successful Discos take this wild gamble
without bothering to see how the Foxhunter-to-Cowboy experiment
worked out before making a commitment? Something had to be going
on behind the scenes!!! But no one had the slightest
idea. And then one day I got my answer. So, Reader, do
you know the answer to the mystery?
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MAY 1979, the
DISCO years
GUESS WHO'S COMING TO TOWN?
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As I continue to
say, none of this
fuss over Country-Western made a bit of sense.
Throughout 1974, 75, 76,
77, 78, I
had watched the gradual build-up of interest in Disco.
There was nothing of the sort for Western.
If there
was a Western Stampede on its way, it must be taking the
subway.
Nevertheless,
I knew these changes were not
idle decisions. Cowboy was rumored to
have cost three million dollars.
A person would have to sell a lot of beer to get a three million
dollar return on their investment. Why would
anyone take a gamble like this considering a lack of discernible demand?
Furthermore, the
clubs who turned their backs on Disco had been making good money.
All that fast Disco dancing definitely worked up a thirst.
Could the same be said Texas Twostep, a dance that moved
slightly faster than a snail?
Each club owner
was destroying a booming, profitable Disco business to
remodel their club in Western motif. They were
deliberately throwing away their profitable Disco clientele
for what??? This decision was
so undeniably risky, I believed these
club owners had to know something. There had to be some sort of Insider Knowledge. No one would spend that kind of money unless they were sure
that Disco was doomed. If
so, this was bad news for me. Without
Disco dancing, I was out of a job. Don't forget, I was a
one-hit wonder. I bit off every fingernail
because there was no other type of dancing for me to teach.
Ballroom dancing? No way. Country dancing?
I decided it was called Twostep because there two steps to it and
it could be taught in two minutes. The reason no one
asked me to teach Country was the absurd simplicity of the
dancing.
May 1979 was the
heyday of the Saturday Night Fever Disco Era.
I had countless Disco
students, somewhere around 400.
This
was ridiculous! Houston's Disco Era was simultaneously
thriving and theoretically disintegrating before my very eyes.
Left completely
in dark, I was filled with a constant sense of dread.
I finally got my
answer in mid-May. A lady named Carol was talking to me at
Camelot. She mentioned a rumor about some movie project called
Urban Cowboy.
Carol saw it on the
news last night.
The
movie would be filmed starting this summer here in Houston and
Pasadena.
I yawned.
Big
deal. Who cares? However, when Carol
mentioned the
movie would star John Travolta, I snapped to attention and my
heart stopped beating.
John Travolta was the biggest movie star
on the planet!
Barely able to
breathe, I whispered, "Carol, you have
to be kidding."
"No,
Rick, I'm
serious. That's what they said on the news.
Urban
Cowboy is supposed to be a
sequel to Saturday Night Fever.
Not only that, John Travolta will be kicker dancing in the
movie. They say John Travolta is going to do the
same thing for Country Dancing that he did for Disco
Dancing."
My heart pounded
so hard in panic, I thought I was having a heart attack. Only news of the Second Coming could have shocked
me more. This was the strangest thing I had ever heard
in my life. No wonder all these clubs are turning
Western. As for the
dancing, uh, good luck with that. The thought of Travolta shoving some poor woman backwards for an
entire song was utterly ludicrous. On the other hand,
maybe there was more to Country dancing than I knew. I
crossed my fingers. Let's hope so.
But it still made no sense!!!
The
word 'Sequel' threw me for a loop. Sequel?
Sequel to what? What
kind of Sequel are we talking about? I was really confused. What script writer would
dream of moving Saturday Night Fever Superstar Tony Manero from Brooklyn to Texas?
This was absurd. A more logical sequel trajectory would have the
Travolta Disco character move from Brooklyn to New York City and continue
his dancing on Broadway. Good grief. I've heard of
'creativity' and 'thinking outside the box', but
this was ridiculous. What weird plot twist would explain why Tony Manero
decided to become a
dancing cowboy in Texas no less? Hmm. I
tried to imagine a plausible plot. Let's say Tony Manero witnesses a Mafia hit
in the Disco. He identifies the perp, testifies, gets put in
witness protection, hides out as a refinery worker in
Pasadena, Texas, and learns the Texas Twostep on his lunch
break. Does anyone want to see this movie?
I don't think so. The outrage I felt was unbearable.
My dance career has to die for this? This had to be
the stupidest movie Sequel I had ever heard of. What kind of
Hollywood idiot thought this one up?
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At least I
finally understood the strange mystery
of the Western Club Transformation. The smartest guys in
the room figured Travolta would do the same for Western that
he had done for Disco.
Ironically, at this
very moment the 'Disco Sucks' country crowd was busy burning 'Ravolta'
images in effigy and stomping on Disco
records. What would these
haters think
when they discovered John Travolta had gone country?
John Travolta arrived in Houston
in late May
to prepare for the filming of what the media described as
the Country-Western
sequel to Saturday Night Fever. No one
(but me)
seemed to object to the absurdity of the Sequel claim.
Apparently I was the only person on earth who thought the idea was preposterous. Everyone else was
too excited about 'John' to give it a second thought. I decided
the world had flipped on its axis.
Overnight Houston went nuts over John Travolta sightings. Indeed, one night Travolta nearly
created a riot. The Bee Gees were on a national tour.
They were riding the
Disco Express created by Saturday Night Fever.
When the Bee Gees played here in Houston, Travolta showed up with a full beard.
The Bee Gees invited him up on stage whereupon Travolta did an
impromptu disco
routine. The girls fainted and the crowd went wild.
While the Bee Gees played, the Disco clubs continued to die right and
left. The count was well over a dozen now with no
signs of abating. I was still baffled by the
suddenness of it all, but at least I had my explanation.
The presence of John Travolta
explained why the club owners were so confident about making
these expensive changes. What else could it be?
Urban Cowboy
was the answer to the mystery of the Western Transformation. But that did not mean I was happy. Disco was in serious
trouble here in Houston and there was not a damn thing I could do
about it.
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