In 1978, Mary M. and I saw the movie of the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band starring Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees.
Mary M. was one of those tall, quirky Irish girls with dark black hair who was always into something. She had a bunch of brothers. This gave her a certain mischievous credibility in knowing stuff. I had one gorgeous, shy sister and I knew nothing about anything, yet.
Syosset, a hub for movies, had two theaters—a Triplex (now Marshalls) and the United Artists Cinema 150 theater near the end of route 135 (Equinox gym). People came from all over Long Island to experience movies in these plush theaters.
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Mary M. and I thought we'd be cool and blew 75 cents on a pack of Marlboro Lights at the Exxon gas station, now 7-Eleven, next to McDonald's. We crossed over Jericho Turnpike and walked up to Cinema 150.
As George Burns rattled on and on narrating the movie, we were more concerned with peeling the cellophane wrapper off the pack and ducking from the aisle attendant, hiding our 13-year-old gawkiness trying not to get caught.
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Mary M. taught me how to light a match with it still attached to the matchbook. We lit cigarettes, puffing and coughing smoke into our hands, flicking ashes onto the floor.
As Peter Frampton came out on the screen, the decorative curtains opened further and the film stretched to full, wraparound 120 arc with incredible sound. Frampton ran up onto a gazebo stage wearing white overalls with Billy stitched on his lapel.
"Billy…Shears…." The Bee Gees crooned, as Frampton strapped on an electric guitar and sang Ringo's part to "With a Little Help From My Friends."
"Oh, he's cute," said Mary M.
Wham! In the 17th row, I practically levitated out of my seat. I didn't know what hit me, or what you want to call it—teenage lust! But, it seemed different. Something came at me like an encoded message I was supposed to receive. I was edgy, buzzing like someone plugged me in, and I snuffed out the cigarette.
In 1978 many genres of music that are still in existence today balanced on the head of a pin—The Talking Heads, Sex Pistols, punk in sharp contrast to disco, and Grand Master Flash and rap music. Frampton was my portal to rock 'n' roll.
If you've ever seen Peter Frampton play, he doesn't sneer at you like Billy Idol. He's a talented guitarist with a distinctive lyrical, jazzy style, who owned the voicebox sound and has heaps of fun performing. His manager Dee Anthony and all those guys at A & M records knew it and captured him live in the Frampton Comes Alive album selling, to date, 16 million copies. But, to me, on that day, I fell in love—with the guitar.
We walked home hyped up on adrenaline, not sure what happened. "I want that!" I told Mary M. Whatever that is. "I have to do something with this me that I am, you know—do something with my life." She smiled at me.
I begged my parents for money to buy records: Frampton's Camel, Frampton, and spent hours locked in my room listening.
My mom went back to work and I was alone every day for an hour after school. Peter Frampton kept me company. Rewinding through his previous band Humble Pie, Frampton led me to lead singer Steve Marriott, one of the greatest rock 'n' roll voices ever. And he led me deeper into Bowie, whom he went to school with in England, and all the puzzle pieces of the British Invasion were spelled out before me.
It wasn't enough. I want to know what he knew, play what he played. I begged my parents for a guitar and learned to play.
Without further adieu...
Five Things Frampton Taught Me
- Play Nice With Others—Peter Frampton has collaborated with David Bowie in the Glass Spider Tour, Pearl Jam members Mike McCready and Matt Cameron on a new "Black Hole Sun."
- Learn Your Craft—It is infinitely better to participate in life than to sit on the sidelines. Learn how to do your thing, your way.
- Loyalty – Be good to people and they'll stick by you for a lifetime. Frampton still has many of the same band members—Stanley Sheldon, bass, John Regan, guitars, and sadly, the late Bob Mayo, on the keyboards.
- Research – In 1978, without Google or Facebook or any of that, just Record World and silly Teen Beat or raw Rolling Stone, my inner writer was awoken and began the first investigative reporting.
- Judge of Character—In the top album picks, I check people to see if Frampton Comes Alive is in the lineup, then I know whom I'm dealing with.
A few years ago, my son was ready for his first concert. In perfect timing, Peter Frampton performed at Theater at Westbury (Westbury Music Fair) touring with his instrumental Fingerprints album that later won him a Grammy in 2007.
We bought tickets.
"Mom," Robert leaned over during the concert, "How cool. He's talking to us through that thing."
"Yes he is." Robert heard the message, too, almost four decades later and now plays a mean guitar. Sometimes, we even play together.
(Rest in peace Mary M!)
Mary Ellen Walsh is working on a novel "Till Now," a love story set in rock 'n' roll. Check out Steve Marriott in Humble Pie:
