The Boss

In the 1980’s and 90’s I worked quite a bit as a free-lance pianist. One week an agent booked me at a club on Bay Street in Staten Island. I drove over the Verrazano Bridge in my V.W. Dasher, found the club, parked, unloaded and set up around a little upright piano before starting to play what I thought would be just another gig. After the 4 scheduled hours I unplugged and began packing up when the maître d came by and said:

“Wait! The Boss has really enjoyed your music and would like you to stay and play some more.”

I had another gig in the morning and didn’t want to get home too late, but I plugged back in for the overtime. After the set, I attempted to pack up when I was again approached.

"He wants you to keep playing. It’s ok if you need to take a break."

I thanked him, but said I really had to get going since I had another performance in the morning.

"He’s going to take care of you!"

I thanked him again but graciously said I wasn’t available.

“You don’t seem to understand. The Boss likes your music, and he’ll take care of you. Please do yourself and everyone the favor of setting back up.”

So, I set back up.

During the break the valet who was rather cold when I arrived seemed really interested to talk to me.

“Where did you learn those songs? I think I know how you got so good…I’ve been playing guitar for years.”

I decided it was time to play and started another set. After about 20 minutes the crowd was thinning out and I just assumed that would be that, however when I started unplugging after what was already a long night, the maître d returned :

"Play another set!"

I’m sorry but I‘ve got to go. 

"The Boss will take care of you."

I understand, thank you, but I’m already half packed up and nobody’s here!

“I don’t think you understand, it’s not up to you! Don’t worry he’s going to take care of you.“

I set back up and played another 15 minutes or so as the last few customers left the club. At that point The Boss emerged from the office with a girl half his age and took a seat at the bar near the piano. The maître d then locked the doors from the inside. There were now several drinks and a pistol on the bar. I was worried. The Boss looked like pictures I had seen of Scarface but he really did seem to enjoy the music.  He talked privately with the girl for a while longer and playing it like a full house I thanked the crowd of two and said goodnight.

“Before you go... I want you to play 3 more songs.” not even asking if I knew them. "That Old Black Magic, Lady is a Tramp, and My Way."

I played the first two but didn’t know the words to My Way. After Lady is a Tramp I became the center of attention and heard The Boss say to the girl:

"Now listen carefully to the words of My Way, cause it’s MY life. "

I noticed the revolver on the bar, and thought to myself, ok...

And now, the end is near….

I heard myself singing,

And so I face the final curtain…

Despite the fact I was sure I couldn’t remember the lyric I guess I passed the audition cause he handed me several hundred dollars and I was finally allowed to leave.

The agent called Monday. "What did you do there?!  They want you to play steady weekends!"

I never went near the club again – however I remember not long after that reading in the paper that the place was destroyed and The Boss had been murdered.