Nov. 14, 1970: The Penny Farthing

 

Nov. 14, 1970 

The Penny Farthing

Play All Styles of Melody

Vocals and Dance Numbers Are in Plentiful Supply 

        There’s something in South Buffalo that loves the Penny Farthing. Through most of September, various members of that something would call.

        “I just want to tell you about a really great group,” the first one said. “They’re called The Penny Farthing. They have two lead singers and they play all kinds of music. They don’t have horns, but they do a lot of Chicago very well.”

* * *

AT THAT TIME, the South Park Avenue crowd had to drive out to northern Amherst, where the group was making suburban friends. But now they’re back at Russo’s, South Park just below Abbott Road, Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Tuesdays they go to the Landmark in Sloan.

        “Our following started in South Buffalo,” singer Mike Costa says. “They’re mostly girls. They come to see us everywhere. Wherever we play, some of them are there.”

* * *

THE PENNY Farthing started out at The Villa, just down the street, when the owner decided to start a rock club. “He let us go,” guitarist Charlie LoVerme says, “because the place was getting too crowded.”

        Russo’s, the band will tell you, is “just like home to us.” They played a three-month stint there after they left The Villa and now they’re in for the rest of the year.

        “Jimmy Russo is really good to us,” Mike explains. “He built that stage for us, put up that curtain we wanted and he builds us up to other clubowners. He’s almost like a manager.”

        Having the group around has been good for Jimmy Russo, too. Generally, the club is full of people in their early 20s. This particular Wednesday night it’s early. A few of the fans are around – even a guy who used to work with drummer Pete Vitale at the Clinton-Bailey Market – but things are slow.

        The group, however, doesn’t seem to think that calls for leisurely work on stage.

* * *

MIKE AND REGGIE Rowland, the other singer, dance around in their matching outfits, twirl their microphones, dip their mike stands over and then bring them sharply back with their feet as they work through Chicago’s “Doesn’t Anybody Know What Time It Is?”

        Both Reggie and Mike say later they’re taking voice lessons, cultivating those clear tenor voices that walk the line between singing and night club crooning.

* * *

MIKE STEPS down and lets Reggie do “Green-Eyed Lady,” a new song for the group, by himself. The rest of the band, sounds thin in those syncopated parts under the vocals, but returns to normal with a jazz-like interlude.

        Next it’s Mike’s turn, Richard Harris’ “Didn’t We.” Despite his cold, he doesn’t flinch when he gets to that long high note at the end. Incredible. The whole place applauds.

        They follow with their version of Three Dog Night’s version of Neil Young’s “The Loner,” with organist Frank Campanella picking up the extra harmony. And then an original written by a friend, “What Words Can I Use?” It has a samba touch.

* * *

THE SAMBA must feel good, because the instrumentalists go into a lengthy Cannonball Adderly “Jive Samba.”

        “About 95 percent of the time, it’s a vocal group,” Frank says, “but a couple times a night Charlie and Pete and I get a chance to stretch out.”

        Mike and Reggie pretty much pick the group’s songs. They’ll listen to a new one early in the week, pick out parts and rehearse Friday or Saturday, the only days military reserves or Frank’s job won’t get in the way.

* * *

“THE SONG has gotta be danceable,” Mike explains. “We try to keep away from tempo changes. That confuses the dancers. And there’s some songs, like ‘Hi-De-Ho’ with those horn parts, we try and we just can’t cover. It’s not easy to work with just guitar, organ and drums.”

        Still, there are few complaints. The singers praise the instrumentalists and the instrumentalists think the singers are great. In case some problem comes up, they keep their minds together with a meeting once a week.

        “We’ve been trying,” Frank notes, “to work it into a thing where it isn’t a bunch of guys climbing on the bandstand and playing good, but a band with two singers out there entertaining.”

* * *

THEY HAVE IDEAS for improving their show. Mike and Reggie are working up choreography – like the clothes, it’s communication with the people, they feel. Reggie can play trombone, if needed, and Mike can play piano.

        “We want to get things where we can really move around,” Mike explains.

“We’re more into a ‘feeling’ bag than a technical bag, you see,” Frank says.

“We’re not what you’d call a musicians’ group,” Reggie adds. “I mean, musicians might not dig us. But we’re a ‘people’ group.

“I think the more you get away from the people, the harder your music is to understand. That was the problem with The Raven before they broke up. You gotta stay close to the people.” 

The box/sidebar:

Bookshop in Bahamas 

Pertinent and impertinent information about The Penny Farthing:

Mike Costa, 21, singer, Lafayette High School graduate, served in the Marine Corps, single.

Reggie Rowland, 19, singer, Bennett High, National Guard, single.

Frank Campanella, 25, organ, Cardinal Dougherty High, attended Erie Community College, sells insurance, married.

Charlie LoVerme, 23, guitar, Grover Cleveland High, Army veteran, single.

Pete Vitale, 24, drummer, Grover Cleveland, Army veteran, married, two children.

* * *

WHEN FRANK, who is more or less the leader, decided to get a group together about a year ago, the first person he talked to was Reggie, who is his brother-in-law. They called it Sudden Hush.

Frank knew Pete when they both played with Chick & The Diplomats. Pete, who also had drummed for Stan & The Ravens in 1964, knew Charlie since they were kids on Buffalo’s West Side. Charlie had played with The Glass Menagerie.

* * *

MIKE, WHO BECAME the fifth member about four months ago, formerly worked with The Difference and The Society Pages.

The Penny Farthing, incidentally, is the name of a bookshop in The Bahamas. Frank flew back from Nassau with it after an insurance sales convention. “We wanted a different name,” he says, “something that wasn’t like the old-time stuff.”