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Vance’sAcousticPajamaParty # 205 - WORK

When: Monday nite 4/22 7:30pm ET


Who gets 10%: - (SWOB) offers free and low-cost evening babysitting services to low-income parents attending college in the Greater Boston area.

Order the CD or pay for this web groovery via: or or
VanceFunder P.O. Box 17, Arlington, MA 02476.
Pay what you like

(ok Bethlehem, PA up in there, but still, my agent doesn’t seem to want me to leave New England):

4/20 - HAVERHILL, MA -


4/27 - LEXINGTON, MA -

4/28 - BETHLEHEM, PA -



Sooooo much New England.



Tuesday I'll use some airline miles to go to the funeral of another of the Old White Man. I’d better get used to it. Clocks are ticking.

Allan Schanzle was editor of MaxFax, newsletter for the Maryland/D.C.- based contingency of our Flying Aces model airplane club. I was a nascent model builder, new also to the world of the touring musician, and about to see my two worlds collide.

I’d never played a show outside of New England, so the opportunity to do a Maryland “tour” had me over the moon. It didn’t matter that it was only 2 dates - one on a Saturday, the other the following Friday. It was a tour, dammit. It was also an opportunity to see my mother south of Annapolis. So I loaded my ’82 Datsun wagon, enough money for tolls and tacos, hand-written directions, maps, and drove. The Saturday show was as the opener for the divine and kind James Keelaghan, then it was off to my mom’s to bed down and spend the week before the next show. That planned week with my mom lasted about 16 hours.

Mental illness and alcohol drove me off of that plastic covered couch. It broke me. I left, and started driving. I stopped at a gas station to call Allan and tell him that sure, I’d love to drop by since I was in the area. We’d started some fun back-and-forth correspondence during the year which led to the invite. “Come stay the night” he offered on the spot.

I stayed the week. He gave me a key, stocked his pantry, pointed to the modeling and reading room chair, and said it was mine while he was at work. He came home and made dinner, played beautiful by-ear piano, and we talked. He promised to give me directions to my next show come Friday.

When Friday rolled around, I came down to the car with my stuff expecting some typed-out directions, as would be his way, to the next venue. He guided me by my shoulder to an opening in his hedges and pointed across the adjoining parking lot at a strip mall. “Your show will be in that coffeeshop with the neon sign.” With that and his great too-loud chuff laugh, he took my bag out of my hand and back upstairs to that most remarkable guest room.

That was Allan Schanzle.

Years later I recalled the story of his recent visit to Pearl Harbor where he “got real teary” at its American flag.

"Old White Men
Get teary eyed December 7th
Old white men
Salute every flag they see”

Those are your lines, Allan. Even if I offered you the money and co-write credit you’d just say no and hand me an old aviation magazine to read.

Rest well.

XO to you Verna...