The year was 1969. And, like every other city and town in the United States, a garage band existed in almost every neighborhood throughout Wichita. We had all watched the Beatles on Ed Sullivan with our older siblings and we had all combed our hair down over our foreheads. And, those of us who lacked the ability to play varsity sports learned to play electric guitar/bass/drums.  

The bands had fabulous names – Gold Plush Blues, Velvet Rainbow, Smoky Bear, and my band, The Cambridge Experiment (VERY British-sounding, indeed!). The venues varied – church basements, school cafeterias, neighborhood swimming pools. Oh, the swimming pools. Envision “Beach Blanket Bingo” in the suburbs. Man, it got no better than that. Remember, we were 14 – 15 years old. And, WE GOT PAID to do this. The going rate was $60. We were a 4-piece band and $15 would buy two extra large Angelo’s pizzas and two pitchers of pop. Yes, we were living large.

After we had built a small fan base, The Cambridge Experiment ventured out of the safe environs of our home neighborhoods in southeast Wichita. Eventually, we got our nerve up and entered several “Battle of the Bands” events which were typically held at roller rinks. BIG MISTAKE! We suffered our worst humiliation at The Roller Haven Skate Rink on West Street near 13th Street. What were we thinking?!?! Our friends/fans had never ventured past downtown. Besides, we all knew that those who lived on the Wild West Side were known to not be all “peace and love” just yet.  

We were massacred at the Battle of the Bands . . . Not one single vote was cast for the Cambridge Experiment. We played artsy-fartsy stuff by Procol Harum and pseudo-Americana tunes by The Band. The other bands rolled over us by playing hits by The Rolling Stones and The Who. What’s more, the lead singer of Smoky Bear 1) had longer hair than us (strike one); 2) lived on the west side and had packed the rink with his buddies (strike two), and 3) worst of all - his voice had fully changed (steerike three!).  We never had a chance.

We stayed together for a few years until our singer/piano player graduated early and left for college. We were forced to move into a new direction. We expanded our horizons.  We added two girls. Genius move!  By 1971, we had come to realize the difference that cute teenage girls in hot pants could make when dealing with both booking agents and the jocks we usually encountered at our gigs at local high school dances. The band was re-named SHINE – The Midwest’s Male and Female Revue. We were 17 – 19 and had progressed musically. But, more importantly, we were cute! Booking agents just loved us. The venues had changed to colleges, country clubs and lounges. Our pay per gig was in the range of $200 - $400. Weekends were spent driving a trailer of musical equipment to Lawrence, Hutchinson, Wellington, Lyons, Arkansas City, Salina, and Dodge City. Man, we had fun.

SHINE moved to the next level in 1972. We added a good-looking lead vocalist, Bobby,  whom the ladies loved. He could schmooze the audience like no one else. SHINE had an honest-to-goodness front man who looked like a young Neil Diamond and who could sing like Elvis. Hell, even my mother came out to the garage to watch when we rehearsed. And, that had NEVER happened before Bobby! We shifted our music from Jethro Tull to 3 Dog Night. We traded Traffic for Chicago. We dropped “Long Distance Runaround” and added “Burning Love.” We were shamelessly  commercial. And, man, it worked!!

In August, 1972, Shine auditioned for a “house band” gig at the Camelot Club which was located on the upper level of a strip center on Roanoke just SE of Harry and Edgemoor. They hired us for a four-week trial at $450 per week. We got better because we worked our asses off. We bought coordinated/matching outfits which looked like a cross between SuperFly and Starsky & Hutch. And, yes, with the girls still in hot pants. It was a magical combination — Pop/rock dance hits played by cute college kids who rehearsed four times each week in addition to performing together for four hours six days a week.  We packed the joint. We were re-hired at a higher weekly wage. By the end of January, 1973, Shine was paid $700 per week. 

The most important thing to come out of the gig at the Camelot Club was that although we were just teenagers, we had joined the ranks of actual working “house” bands. It was a unique time when each club had its own house band which had a contract which kept them at one venue for 3 – 6 months. There were also numerous beer bars where 18-year olds could buy cheap 3.2 beer for $1/pitcher and hear good live music. There were also several jazz clubs where adults would sip over-priced martinis and ignore the VERY talented jazz musicians. But, being in a band of teenagers and playing at a 21 club was nirvana. 

The Camelot Club was closed only on Monday. So, every Monday, we went to see the bands at the other 21 clubs where we were admitted free because we were the house band at the Camelot Club. Our heads exploded! We saw Lotus at The Fireside Club on the east side, and, then, at the Scene Seventies on the west side. We revered the Soul Survivors who stayed on the top of the rock pile at the Sound Sircus on South Seneca.  We caught The Hard Road or Headstone when they came off the road and landed a stay in Wichita. And, when the clubs closed at 2:00 AM, all of us carnival freaks would meet for breakfast at Denny’s. It wasn’t real healthy; but, it WAS real fun!

Then, it ended. Some band members were recruited to go on the road with bigger acts who toured. Some quit and went to college. Some got married and got real jobs. Others went to Viet Nam.

The clubs changed hands.  The audiences were no longer in the habit of going to “their” club to hear the same house band two or three times each week. Disco arrived. But, life-long friendships were formed and wonderful memories were made. I miss the Camelot Club. But, I still don’t like roller rinks.

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