The Cliff Hotel
In the late spring of 1970, the five vocalists/musicians that made up the Field of Zaad were gelling nicely. Rehearsing during the day, and playing gigs at night, we were learning a lot of good tunes and getting very tight. We worked on originals and on original arrangements.
We got the call to do a two-week gig in a resort hotel in Scituate, MA called the Cliff Hotel. Scituate is a small town on the Massachusetts Bay side of Cape Cod. The hotel was a very old, large, wooden Cape Cod architecture. And it was right across from the beach. Voila! This was going to be great.
And we found out quickly that it was better than we could have imagined. The owners of the hotel liked the band from the start. They offered the Field of Zaad a gig for the summer. This was truly a summer that is still very special in my mind.

Mike by the Bay at Scituate


Besides a very steady paycheck, we were also given rooms at the hotel. This is something we screwed up in the first couple of weeks we were there. One of the band members (not saying who) had a lack of indiscretion and the band had to find another place to stay. But gosh, Cindy was sweet...
Bob in his favorite beach attire
We had made friends with regular customers that would come and see us. Some of the best friends a band ever had were Wendell and Diane. When they found we needed a place to stay, they rented the Rose Cottage to us. The cottage was an extremely small dwelling that had a living room, a stand-up kitchen, a bedroom upstairs. And the front porch was connected to the sea wall. Bob, Jeff and his girlfriend Pamela (she's still his wife today in 2007) and I were the tenants. Elyse decided there wasn't enough room for her and passed.
Pam and Mike in the Rose Cottage
As I said, it was a summer to remember. The days were as enchanting as the nights. Sure, I'd been to the beach before, but we were LIVING there now.
Three wise humans:
Bob, Elyse, and Jack - behind
the Cliff Hotel at 6 AM
Alas, what goes up must come down. Or something like that. We were feeling pretty good about everything Zaad. But nothing lasts forever. I was lucky enough to invite my mom and dad to see us - on our last night. We thought we were playing well to the room - we had the crowd into the music, we thought we were keeping our volume down enough. Unfortunately, the owner did not see it this way. He came up to the stage while we were playing in our second or third set and said something to Jack. Jack kept playing, but his face was void of emotion.
We finished the song and Jack called a quick huddle on the stage. He told his that Aram (the owner) had said something about turning the volume down, but used language that most civilized folks would think unacceptable. He wanted to know if we'd stand behind him to give our immediate notice. Once everyone got the idea of what happened, we were more than behind Jack. I know that I said much more than was needed.
So goes the music business. You're riding high in April, shot down in May. Actually, this was early August. We packed up our equipment that night, got a U-Haul the next day. And our endless summer ended.
One more footnote to this summer. In May of 1974, just four years after The Field of Zaad were a hit in the lounge, the Cliff Hotel burned down. Here is have the account from the paper.


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