Listen ...A Different Drummer

A DIFFERENT DRUMMER by K.D. Richardson
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Chapter 1

A Sour Note

And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand,

When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

— John Rzeznik- Goo Goo Dolls’ Iris

He was born Ross Taylor. Early in his career, he flipped his first and last names and became Taylor Ross. He thought it would advance his career. As you will find, it obviously must have worked.

To my way of thinking, the word ‘legacy’ is reserved for those who make a significant positive difference while on this plane. Such was the case with Taylor. He was one of those individuals, rare as they may be, that crosses our paths and leaves behind a notable footprint upon our souls. It’s been said that as a man acquires wisdom, he can positively change his life. The truly wise man can change ours in the process.

Throughout life, certain people are called to do certain things, and Taylor answered the call. Now, I wouldn’t say that Taylor was the greatest or most important man who ever lived. He was, however, the most interesting individual I ever met.

Upon most people’s passing, a headstone is placed to mark the final resting place of that individual, and on it is recorded a beginning and ending date. In between the two is a hyphen. That small dash represents the most important part of a soul’s existence, for it’s what happens between the opening and closing of a person’s life that typically defines their character.

‘Once upon a time’ wouldn’t do Taylor’s life justice. Actually, his story didn’t take place that long ago.

I grew up with Ross Taylor, or Taylor Ross as he was known professionally. We attended the same Ohio schools from kindergarten until he eventually dropped out after our junior year in high school. It was the sixties, and there was a lot of that going on. Some left the academic world to enlist in the army— to assist in the military conflict in Southeast Asia—while others fled the area to avoid the same fracas. I served, and things worked out well for me afterwards when I utilized my G.I. Bill and eventually found employment in the business offices at the local paper mill. I retired after getting my twenty-five years in. I had to. My wife was ill and needed me. Taylor, as some would argue, went on to bigger and better things.

As I mentioned earlier, Taylor left high school in late 1967. He hitched a ride out to the San Francisco area the day after school ended and engaged in the whole hippie thing during the so-called ‘Summer of Love.’ He frequented the traditional hip gathering sites like Haight-Ashbury, Winterland, and so on.

It was just after the fourth day of July during that year when Vincent ‘Vinnie’ Vaughn, a well-known experimental drummer in the area, introduced Taylor to John Winston, a guitarist who led the daily pick-up band in the area. His group was performing an outdoor impromptu concert in one of the area parks. While Taylor didn’t play with John’s band that evening, he joined the small audience and took it all in. He became hooked on the music, the crowds, and the whole performing atmosphere. Afterwards, he asked Winston if he could sit in with the band at their next practice; John agreed, and things rolled from there.

When the whole ‘Summer of Love’ thing started, it was all very cool, as Taylor put it—but this little peaceful happening grew like wildfire, and before long, there were thousands and thousands of people in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood and the surrounding vicinity. Despite the compassionate efforts of the sympathetic do-gooders, services for the masses became exceedingly stretched. Taylor and the boys quickly realized that if they wanted to survive, they would have to sing for their supper, as the old adage goes. In this case, that saying was right on the money. They were eventually able to land a few weekend gigs at some of the area gathering places, and that provided them with enough money to eat on during the week. They stayed at one of the many flop-houses for shelter, and practiced in the park during the day. What else did they have to do? Through it all, Taylor said that never once did he ask himself, “What in the hell am I doing out here?”

Anyway, it was at one of these weekenders, on October 7, 1967— specifically, at a dive called Rudy’s—where they got their big break. They were spotted by a promoter and asked to join Pink Floyd and Sopwith Camel in a benefit later that month at the Fillmore for radio station KPFA, and needless to say, they were beside themselves. It didn’t get any bigger than that. The rest, as they say, is history.

Actually, that isn’t too far from the truth, in their case. Their counter-culture band, Vulture, wowed the radio audience that evening, and was signed within the week to a record deal. Over the next nineteen years, they went on to sell something like seventy-five million albums in the US alone. That’s comparable to groups such as KISS or Van Halen in their prime. That, mind you, was when the listening audience was a bit smaller, and that was also back when they still made albums.

During their formative days, Taylor ‘Rocks,’ as he came to be known by his fans during his playing days, along with Ernie ‘Red’ Huber, John Winston, or J-Dub as they called him, Pete ‘Pops’ Dixon, and ‘Clueless’ Joe Paxton were referred to as street pickers by some of the regulars out in the Bay Area. The group accepted that idiom, and after a combination music and pot-smoking session, settled on the name Vulture for their group. They liked it, it stuck, and it made them all millionaires.