Chapter 6- A Very Funny Thing Happened On The Night of The Gala
January 19th, 1977
The morning before Inauguration Day
30 Rockefeller Plaza, New York City
Today Show- Studio 8G
Freddie Prinze is in a comfy couch chair, sitting near hosts Jane Pauley and Tom Brokaw.
Tom talks to Freddie about some details for the morning's program.
"Now we're kind of still in the process of moving out of 3K downstairs, so things are gonna look a bit rough around here. And they're kinda rushing us to find something to fill the show with that isn't documenting Inauguration Day, some human interest and celebrity gossip here and there, so they need a good back and forth here, so just keep that in mind, okay?"
"Right. This isn't my first time in the interview chair. I've done Carson, I've done that ABC show with Geraldo Rivera, I've done Paar, I've done Dinah Shore. I think I know what I'm doing, Tom. I'll be okay."
"Well, it's a morning show, so you might want to tone down the raunch. Just relax, don't swear too much, and choose your words carefully. People watch Carson to get funny gossip, and all we want is a quiet one on one. Got it?"
"Yeah, don't worry. I know the game."
Jane Pauley walks up on stage, as the show returns from a commercial break and begins the weather forecast.
She speaks a bit.
"They'll have us on in a few minutes. Now you said you have a few new projects in mind?"
"Yeah, and a few things about where I intend to go with TV when I come back."
"Well, that'll certainly be interesting. You mind clearing up the whole SNL thing on here, by the way? Management's still a bit shook."
"Yeah, I know, it was a bit off the wall the thing I did. But I do have an explanation. Just give me some time to form it."
"Well, you better think fast. We're on in a minute or two."
"In that case, I'll improvise a little."
"Alright then. Remember though, be a bit clean. You're on morning TV, so just remember that."
"Tom already warned me, and I'm pretty sure I can handle this. You've seemed to forget I'm on primetime TV."
"Yeah, on Friday nights. The death slot is still the death slot."
"Not while I'm on. Check the ratings the last few weeks, it's looking pretty alive out there to me."
Tom broke up the heated discussion.
"Hey guys, save it for the cameras. We're on in 30 seconds."
Everyone braced themselves.
The cameras went to the couches.
"Well, every tabloid has been restless since his sudden reappearance on last week's episode of NBC's Saturday Night, when the unexpected return of Freddie Prinze to American TV screens caused a wave of speculation. Well, wonder no more, because we have the man himself here to explain everything. The superstar comic joins us today. Freddie, let me just first ask, what's been going on with you?"
"Well, I've been around the New York area for quite a bit. Caught up with some friends around. And I'm getting along with my wife. So, all in all, it's been a solid time to be around."
"Good to hear, you've clearly brightened up since we last heard from you. Now everyone's been wondering about this Saturday Night crash thing, and we want to know personally, how on earth did that happen?"
"Well, it's actually a bit of a funny story. See, I was getting some food from a stand in Manhattan, thinking about what to do, when a lightbulb goes off in my head, and I immediately think dropping down here. I was in the mood for being a troubled spirit that day, so I dropped everything to go up and visit around the studios."
That interview on Today seemed to stretch forever. Freddie explained the entire set of events that happened that Saturday, got into details for what TV shows and specials he'd be working on, with "Chico" being an obvious one to start off with, talked a bit about the whole Carter invitation and examined in rather deep detail through discussion, his appeal to Puerto Ricans for Puerto Rico, getting into one of the most interesting political pieces of the decade at that point, and looking into the civic mind Prinze possessed.
Finally, Brokaw and Pauley decided to ask him about how he's handling things at home.
He handled it well, despite how personal the question ended up being. It really hit the heart.
"Well, my son's almost one year old, and it feels a bit weird. I'm a young father, and being that in this day and age is a rather heavy risk, with the celebrity status making it hard to spend time with him. Tied up with all that Hollywood work makes being there a tough job to crack. At least my wife's still there for both of us. We were hitting a rough patch around the end of last year, and it was really coming to a head, things between us. Then this break happens, and it caught her off guard. She was so relieved. We've been doing better since then. Maybe me and her can come back on the show for another interview. Make visiting this place a habit."
"Well, we'd love to have you here in New York again."
"Thank you for the invite, I'll take it whenever I feel I got time."
"No problem."
A little after that, the interview ended.
Then, Prinze left for where he was staying in New York.
He got his stuff, his wife and his son.
They were leaving soon enough. First by taxi, then by plane.
They had a destination to get to, and quick.
The president was waiting after all.
January 20th, 1977
INAUGURATION DAY
Washington, D.C.
A TV played footage of the recent inauguration in a hotel room, as Freddie got into a cheap blue tuxedo he bought at a store shortly before his flight.
His wife calls out to him.
"Hey, listen, while you're there, you think you can get the kid an autograph from the President?"
"Honey, assuming they don't mistake me for the janitor, I can probably manage."
"You're an honoured guest of the staff of the President, and you think they'll throw you out?"
"It's Washington, they're not used to seeing a well dressed Hispanic kid in a place like that."
"You might have a point. Just stick with a group, and they might be able to catch on."
"Thanks for the good talk. I'll see you around."
"Alright then. Oh, one last thing, Freddie!"
"Yes?"
"Don't drink too much."
He went to argue about this, but then recognized something important.
Despite his habits of hard drug use and harder alcohol use, the amounts had lowered significantly over the course of his time off Hollywood sets, and had pretty much nearly crashed down as he went over to New York for the winter.
It had reflected in the increased presence he had between being with his wife more often, and finally getting around to raising his son, trying to be a better father.
He had certainly grown, and while he knew the habits could only be held back for so long, he'd managed to regain control of himself for a long period of time, and was proud of himself.
And he damn sure was not gonna throw that all away.
"I'll keep to a classic three martini lunch. How does that sound?"
"As long as it doesn't fill you too much, that'll be great."
They kiss as he gets his room key, his invite envelope, and a hat.
"You think you can handle the kid while I'm gone?"
"Sure. Knowing you, all I gotta do is put on some show with a lot of cars. Maybe one of those action shows you don't stop watching."
"Sounds about right. I'll see you later."
He kisses her on the cheek, then heads out of the room.
He went down to the hotel lobby, meeting up with his friends. Jimmie Walker, Tony Orlando, Jose Feliciano, Gabe Kaplan and that one kid he once fought with, John Travolta were all there. They had arranged a limousine service to pick them all up. Inside the limo, was enough champagne to knock out an entire basketball team.
They had made it, they were some of the biggest young stars in America, and they would spare no expense in showing off their success.
Initially scheduled for the night before inauguration day, the gala was put off for the day of, deciding that the first days Carter had, just before, and right on the big day should be relatively relaxed.
The gala was to be reported on by newspapers, but not televised.
The televised celebrations would go on the next night, as they planned to have a party celebration for that day too. The gala was split in half, reasoning that the wackier shenanigans should stay unviewed until after inauguration happened.
So, that was that.
600 stars would organize there, and stay there, until the morning of the 22nd.
But for now, the party was just getting started.
President Jimmy Carter was there, and he was dying by laughter.
He could barely breathe. His wife, Rosalynn, tried to keep him in his seat, but she could barely stand either.
There they were, some of the funniest young comedians in the land, doing a comedy routine so ridiculous many of the guests were falling out of their seats.
Prinze, Kaplan, Walker, Travolta and Orlando were organized on that stage, essentially doing a short talent show act. It was a routine about a line at a sports game.
The improv was spectacular. Rough around the edges due to the short time it took to think it up, but still rather good for a first time performance.
Despite the gala not being a televised special presentation, a few TV insiders, cameras in hand, were there to record some of the big headline events for either news events later that week, or future variety pieces.
As the audience kept laughing, they kept going. After the routine ended and the applause came in, each performer, with the exception of Travolta, an actor, and one who preferred to stay away from the mic after he went through his bit, did a quick 5 minute piece.
The audience was giving up cheers and standing ovations by the end of all of it.
As the last one ended, Prinze ran back up on stage and gave out a few words to the crowd.
"We've got some interesting stuff cooking up in the back, so we'll be out for a few minutes. We'll be back here, and I swear, we will have a lot more with us. Thank you!"
The crowd broke into thunderous applause.
As the crowd began to dance as the band came back to life, and those who were not dancing chose to converse or drink...
Prinze, Feliciano and Orlando snuck themselves to the back of the venue, as they began to talk amongst themselves.
Prinze brought up the elephant in the room.
"I just got word that our band set is here. Question is, are we really ready to do this?"
Feliciano and Orlando were rather quiet. Then, Orlando, ever the more brave one decided to jump in on a decision.
"Let's do it. We have nothing much to lose. We already have the instruments."
Jose got a bit cynic, as his last time performing anything even close to a national performance like this, nearly ended up in a full blown disaster for his career.
"We're about to perform a bunch of showtunes in Espanol in front of the President. Are we sure we're ready for whatever happens out there?"
They paused for a long moment, as they began to look at the instruments near them. For Tony, a pair of maracas. For Freddie, a drum set. And for Jose, an acoustic guitar.
After a long, slightly heavy period of thoughtful silence, Freddie decided to break it up with a bit of humor.
"Let's just hope they like spiced beef and jumping beans."
The three decided that it was go time or no time.
Before Freddie could join Tony and Jose however, he was tapped on the shoulder by a White House security officer.
"Anything wrong, man?"
The guard spoke.
"We got a strange character saying he knows you. Says his name is Blake? We don't know what to do."
Freddie knew. That was Nat! He came all the way from New York to see him.
He knew what to do.
"Bring him here. I want him on this stage with me."
Fifteen minutes later, and Nat Blake, an unknown trumpet man from the streets of New York City, was gearing up to play a concert for the ages.
He had geared up, and headed out with Freddie, as the four set out to make history.
The crowd cheered as the three stars came back. And quite a few of them began to scratch their heads and turn their eyes towards the newcomer with the trumpet and the bright jacket.
The four each had an instrument in their hands, except Freddie, who rushed to the drum set.
There were microphones across the stage.
Prinze rushes up to one of them, near the drums, and begins to speak to the puzzled crowd.
"Sorry we took so long ladies and gentlemen, and thanks for keeping your seats warm. Now many of you have been wondering what exactly we have planned here. And trust me, we do have an answer. Now you've probably heard at least us three, and for two of us, it's because you hear us singing. Now around Christmas time around the end of last year, me, José and Tony decided to try out singing as a group to a private gig. It worked, so we thought to try it out here. So here we are, trying it again. We just hope you'll enjoy what we're about to do."
The crowd broke into applause, as the four men got their instruments up to speed, finishing their setup. They began to play a familiar piece.
La Bamba, the signature standard of Latino rock legend Ritchie Valens, and a Chicano folk staple.
But with the distinct New York trumpet of Blake, and the three vastly different singing styles of the stars on stage, combined with fast, uptempo, bongo-like jazz-influenced drum playing and solid electric guitar work from Feliciano and a surprising acoustic guitar piece from Orlando, a man widely considered a singer and not much more, all tied up by Prinze getting off the drums due to being tired and using maracas going into the last pieces made a distinct sound the likes of which the crowd had never really heard before, being a particular combination of progressive rock influences, a blues-inspired electric sound, a folk-driven acoustic rhythm, a slight hint of classic rockabilly tastes and a uniquely Latino flavour of pop.
The crowd was floored by the shocking performance by the time it all ended. Then they clapped.
A lot of them didn't know what they had just witnessed. But a lot of them were young, and a lot of them knew new talent quite obviously.
They were impressed. The older folks didn't quite get it, but saw some clear skill.
The performance was a success. And then it got better.
They then moved on to the songs they wanted to go for.
A medley of their choice.
Beatles songs from the latter end of their career, from Rubber Soul to Abbey Road.
Blues rock, mainly stuff from the Rolling Stones and B.B. King.
Disco, in the form of the songs of Earth, Wind and Fire, the Jackson 5 and the Bee Gees.
They played it all.
It was effectively a near completely improvised hour and a half concert show. Prinze's drum playing baritone, Tony's solid multi-talented soprano, and José's tenor being combined with an electric backtrack, combined with the surprising trumpet talents, with jazzy undertones, by the young up and comer that happened to be Nat Blake, proved to be an impressive combo that shocked the ballroom.
It ended with effectively a salute to the biggest counterculture acts of the hippie generation, with the music of Carlos Santana and his eponymous band, the Grateful Dead and the Jimi Hendrix Experience being played.
When it was all said and done, the crowd was amazed.
Despite this being a White House-related events, many of the guests there were young campaign volunteers, young political prodigies, and young celebrities, thanks to the rather youth-driven campaign the honest and moderate Carter managed to drive. Thanks to this, despite insiders and old, rather establishment stars showing up, the field was mostly a lot of young guys, and many of them fans of the type of music that Prinze and company just provided.
Almost immediately after their final salute and concluding thanks, they rushed off the stage to a lot of handshakes and congratulations and praise.
TV cameras caught everything. What they didn't catch, tape recorders did.
Some celebrities questioned if this would be the start of a new group and when they should expect an album. Others asked if they were going to go on tour.
One guest of the ball in particular, had a few choice words to say.
Prinze and Orlando were walking to find a place to sit, or at least a place to drink, when they bumped into a familiar looking man, with round glasses, long straight hair and a distinct wit.
"Easy there fella, my other suit's still in London!"
"Oh, no issue, we're just trying to find a place to get a-"
Tony stopped dead in the middle of his sentence. There, in the middle of a ballroom in Washington, stood arguably the biggest musician in the world.
"Hey, I know you two! You're the guys that played that band bit out there! You lads did a good set out there."
Tony could just barely muster out a "thanks, thanks a lot".
Prinze was distracted with finding his ID to make sure he'd be served at the bar, when he stopped to recognize that Orlando, his friend, freezed up for quite a bit.
He was going to ask what exactly was wrong with him when he suddenly noticed a familiar looking face. A square face with a stone jaw, and round glasses to contrast.
He stopped and decided to say hi, going in for a wave and then a handshake.
"Hey, hello, hi there. I'm Freddie, this guy near me is Tony. It's a pleasure. So you enjoyed our stuff?"
The Liverpudlian legend decided to comment on the performance a bit further.
"Yeah, it was quite interesting. See you guys went the route of my old band of mates, with all the experimentation on the floor. Although I will admit it sounds more like the Dead than it does us fab guys."
Tony then decided to acknowledge the obvious, and give thanks.
"Well, it's a rather high amount of praise coming in from the leader of the greatest band to ever do it himself. It's a great honour, Mr. Lennon."
The Englishman laughed a bit.
"Please, we're at a party, just call me John."
And there Tony and Freddie stood. At a party. At the president's team's request. Talking with John Lennon.
José came in not too long after, and they all got to conversing about life and such, celebrity statuses, contract deals and artistic pressures being notable pieces of convo.
As the conversation got thicker, another figure came in to surprise Prinze.
Muhammad Ali came in with a hell of an entrance, hitting Prinze in the arm.
"Ow!"
"Got to have your reflexes up, Fred!"
After a play fight bit, the two greeted each other and he joined in with the singers as they all talked.
Yoko eventually showed up, since Lennon pretty much never went anywhere without Ono by his side.
Nat finally decided to come around, after he was done making friends with campaign staffers and the odd celebrity model, to join Prinze and company, plus their other celebrity guests in the circle.
Eventually, word must've spread about the concentration of talent in a corner, as the bunch managed to find themselves greeted by the man of the hour himself.
Rosalynn was the first to show up, followed shortly thereafter by the peanut farmer, the governor of Georgia, the great moderate, and now the chief of the land. Oh, and her husband too. She's the First Lady after all, and First Ladies don't tend to show up anywhere without their loving husbands in tow.
"Fellow men. Fellow gentlemen. Welcome to DC."
They turned to find their eyes directed at the White House's big couple themselves.
Tony decided to speak first.
"Mr. President. Mrs. Carter. Good evening. Thanks for having us over."
Prinze was stunned. He now officially had the bragging rights of saying, and could give the story of, how he met the president of the United States of America.
And so did Tony and José. For the three, they were various degrees of floored, honoured and blessed. For John, he was just thankful that the commander in chief in now this time didn't hate his guts or wanted him deported.
The good fortunes continued all night.
The names kept showing up, and the conversations kept going.
Prinze met and saw a lot of people. Talked to them, drank with them, danced with them.
He got a lot of signatures in a book for his young son, with notes in hand.
And true to his word, he got the signature of the president inked out in that same book.
That night, going to and crossing through to morning, he returned to his hotel room.
He placed his things, gifts from the event included on whatever he could find.
He decided to wake his wife up in his own charming way. A kiss on the forehead.
"Hi there."
His wife looked up at him.
"What now?"
"I'm back from the gala."
"You're late coming back."
"The party didn't end until 2:30. I took a bit getting signatures."
She stopped, then realized what that meant.
"There's no way you actually got the-"
Freddie cut her off.
"Yes, yes I did. The president's signature is in my notebook. And it's not the only one."
He shows her the book's inside, revealing signatures and notes from President Jimmy Carter, John Lennon, some of Prinze's celebrity friends, more than a few Hollywood stars such as Bacall and Davis, baseball star Hank Aaron, boxing legend Muhammad Ali. It was like a get well card from the Hollywood galaxy.
She obviously stumbled to figure out the right words to give to such an event.
"How did- why did- where did you- how could you- when did you- what?"
"It's a long story, very long. Beside it's late, I'm tired, you're barely awake and we have to be at the White House tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow? What do you mean by tomorrow?"
"They're doing another party for the president, but instead of being an informal gala, it'll be some mix between a formal ball and a TV special. We've been invited, so you might want to bring the kid."
She paused for a moment's notice.
She finally just sighed and sort of giggled a bit.
"And here I thought going back home to LA would be stressful. I'll find a dress and see what I can do, but just promise me something before I do."
Freddie half twitched his eyebrows up, in confusion.
"What would that be?"
"When it comes to sudden surprises, just stick to being allowed to host the Tonight Show."
He thought about it for quite a bit.
He finally spoke on the comment.
"I'll try. Thanks for the look in."
She smiled a little.
"No problem. Good night."
"See you in the morning."
Before he went to sleep however, he thought about something back at home.
While he was in New York, his interest towards the late President Kennedy peaked during semi-regular visits to the Public Library.
He finally caved, and bought a few books. Profiles in Courage, A Thousand Days, A Nation of Immigrants, Why England Slept- he got into the works, words and history of Kennedy hard in New York. He stopped watching the Zapruder film as much to analyze the assassination, as he did read about the man that became the president of popular myth. He got into the policies, the behaviours, the ideas.
And it didn't really stop. He didn't want to. He was openly interested. It had already made his already quite political self a bit more informed and was in the process of refining itself into a more progressive man and a more active player in political action.
So when he had time to himself, he began reading these books before bed. Just for curiosity's sake.
Tonight, in the early morning, in that Washington hotel room would be no different.
Except he invited his wife to join on in.
She rather quite reluctantly accepted.
And so there they sat, reading A Nation of Immigrants.
It piqued their interest.
They then decided they weren't going to sleep yet.
Freddie was interested, and now so was his wife.
The Prinzes had some time to kill, and they decided sleep would not stop them.
Besides, they have like a day or two left in DC, then it's back home to California on the west coast, and all the celebrity madness and TV schedules
and gossip junk and star action that came with it.
Hollywood lights and LA stresses were waiting for them back home, so why really worry about what might happen here?
They can figure it all out in the morning. It'll be fine.
The White House might understand.
The man already did, so why not the White House?