| Detailed History |
KINGS OF CHICAGOLAND
Free Verse was formed in Northwest Indiana in 1972 with great promise. Initially it was a Chicago / Santana
tribute band, before the expression “tribute band” became popular. The eight-piece band featured a brass
section, a percussion section, an explosive drummer, and the best sound equipment available at the time.
With this combination, even wedding gigs had a stadium-rock feel. The band had tons of natural talent and
practiced hard. Its tight, powerful performances of cover and original tunes quickly generated a large local
following.
Fans followed the band every weekend to talent shows, dances, concerts in public parks, neighborhood
festivals, and most notably, battles of the bands. These battles were extremely popular across the U.S. at the
time, and especially-so in Northwest Indiana, where there were dozens of bona-fide bands trying to “make it.”
Other promising area bands were Gypsy, Pretzel, Shades of Time, Odyssey and Together (now the
unofficial/official band of the Chicago Bulls). Each band had its particular strengths and loyal following.
Competition between band members and their fans was fierce. Free Verse was the undefeated king of these
battles in Northwest Indiana.
And the members were treated as kings.
Al remembers: “I was a freshman when some of the guys were seniors at East Chicago Washington High
School. The guys in Free Verse were the coolest guys in the school without question. When someone from
Free Verse walked by, people literally stopped to stare. Crowded hallways opened up as band members
walked through. Girls swooned. Boys stood in line to give “fives” and “soul handshakes” to band members,
who walked with both hands out to receive all the greetings. They lived a real rock star fantasy. Just knowing
someone in the band made you cool.”
The original lineup was: Stanley Serna (vocals), Chris Guerra (vocals, keys), Dan Rodriguez (vocals, bass),
Mario Moreno (guitar), Gerry Magallan (trumpet), Rick Coy (sax), "Peaches" (drums), and Cesar Salinas
(percussion and flute). Each band member was a legend known by every high school kid in Northwest
Indiana.
Then the band broke across the Indiana/Illinois border. In 1973, Free Verse competed against 600 bands in
the FM LOOP Chicagoland Battle of the Bands. They won second prize, and record companies started
showing interest by visiting shows and rehearsals. The band competed again in the 1974 LOOP Battle, and
took first prize running away. One of the judge’s scorecards had written in bold across the page, “MONSTER
RHYTHM SECTION.” As winner, Free Verse recorded four songs in one of Chicago’s top recording studios
and was featured on a one-hour FM LOOP radio special. The band started playing Chicago’s hottest
nightclubs, packing them to overflowing with the old Northwest Indiana following and new fans from Chicago.
Now the band was red-hot. Executives from several record labels, including Columbia Records, took a very
serious look at the band. The labels loved the band's sound, but there was one problem. The average
member was only sixteen years old! If only the band could stick together another year or two, a recording
contract seemed inevitable. Unfortunately it didn’t. As members finished high school, they left for the military,
college, or jobs. The band was finished, at least for awhile.
Says Al, “My parents were strict. I'm not complaining - they were wonderful. But they didn’t allow me to go to
concerts. So I never saw Free Verse perform before they broke up. I was devastated when they broke up. I
mean in real mourning! Looking back, the strangest part of it is that I didn’t start playing guitar until the
summer between sophomore and junior year, about when they broke up. I was a nerdy kid who got
good grades. I couldn’t possibly have imagined that I would end up in the band.”
THE PRACTICING MADMAN
In 1974, Al got his first guitar, bought some guitar books, and started practicing every spare moment of day
and night. Al finished high school and studied engineering for two years, playing guitar a steadily increasing
number of hours per day. How did he do it? “I’ve never slept much,” says Al. “I woke up early every day to
practice. I took my guitar everywhere I went. I practiced while eating. I practiced while going toilet and taking a
bath. No kidding. I spent years during which I held no casual conversation with anyone unless I was poking at
my guitar. I fell asleep practicing, and got up every night in the middle of the night to practice. And I
improved.”
In 1980, Al took the leap. He left engineering to pursue a music career. The first thing he did was tell his
father. Of course, Al’s father was devastated. “The day I told my dad I was leaving engineering to pursue a
music career is the most angry I’ve ever seen him in my life,” recalls Al. “He and my mom didn't get to go to
college, though they were both gifted students. Dad dreamed I would be an architect from the day I was born.
It took years for our relationship to recover. Now my dad is my biggest fan – ha! Mom, bless her sweetness,
was more accepting. I realized that leaving school was an immense decision. My plan was to try music for five
years. If I didn’t achieve superstardom, I would return to college.”
Al got a job in the steel mills of East Chicago and worked hard at forming his own band. But the going was
not easy. “It’s hard to find truly-serious musicians. And that’s what I was looking for. Professionalism.” The
farthest Al got was a four-piece basement band called The Salamanders. They learned five songs completely
and the music sounded great – a real achievement. But not one of them was a strong lead singer. “Like a
billion other basement bands, after a month of playing great music and poor lead singing, it became obvious
we would never get a gig. We just kind of fizzled out.”
But Al was undaunted, and continued to practice intensely. He absolutely believed music was his destiny.
FREE VERSE REFORMED
In 1980, Gerry Magallan, Chris Guerra, and Dan Rodriguez decided they would re-form Free Verse. Gerry
had studied music for three years at Indiana University. Chris had played piano in a jazz combo in the
military. Dan had played in another successful road band. The three had matured, and felt prepared to raise
Free Verse to that next level.
They looked back at mistakes the original Free Verse had made, and came up with a three-step plan. First,
replace certain original members with more-serious players. Second, play in nightclubs on the road for six
months. Going on the road would isolate the band to keep them focused on writing originals and getting tight
onstage. And third, get a recording contract.
Meanwhile, Al had now been practicing guitar day and night for seven years. He started sounding more like a
veteran than a guy who had never played a paid gig. He was still searching for his opportunity. Instead of Al
finding it, it found Al.
One sunny afternoon Al was doing his absolute favorite thing. He was sitting, leaning on a tree in Washington
Park in East Chicago, eyes closed, playing his electric guitar, which he had rigged to play out of a cassette
player speaker. He was playing blues scales from the bottom to the top of the neck and then back down
again. Over and over, in a manic, hypnotic trance. Suddenly a voice came from nowhere: “Yo! Who do you
play for?” Al kept playing, deep in concentration. Eyes still closed, he managed to squeak out an answer,
“Nobody.”
“Nobody!” said the voice. “Nobody? Man, you jivin'!” Al kept playing. Finally, the stranger said, “I’m Mario
Moreno!” Al opened his eyes, stopped playing, and stood up. “Mario from Free Verse!” said Al.
“Hey man,” said Mario as he pressed a finger in Al’s chest, “I know somebody that needs you.”
“I thought he meant some beginner band needed a guitar player,” says Al. Then Mario explained. Free Verse
was going to regroup. But Mario had quit playing pop music. He had dedicated himself to classical guitar. In
fact, Mario Moreno can be seen playing classical guitar in Northwest Indiana restaurants to this day. Mario
said Free Verse had a big problem. They couldn’t find a guitarist to fill Mario’s shoes. Then Mario said, “I’ve
been sitting right here watching you for half an hour man. You practice like a crazy man! I know all the guitar
players around. None of them can handle Free Verse. Free Verse is serious. Free Verse practices seven
days a week. And if you don’t come to practice ready, they’ll kick you right out. And they’re going on the
road. You’ll have to quit your day job. You think you can handle that?”
Al says “I was instantly both ecstatic and terrified. I told Mario, ‘Man music is everything to me. I left college to
start my own band, record, and make it. I broke my parents’ heart by quitting college. I’m serious as a heart
attack. But I don’t know if I’m ready for Free Verse.’”
Mario said, “I can’t believe I never met you. Where have you been hiding? It’s time for you to break out, man.
I’m gonna talk to Gerry, Chris, and Dan about you. You’ve just been discovered. You’re gonna be a rock
star. Do you realize that?”
Al says, “That night I couldn’t sleep, so I just played guitar. The next day Gerry, Chris, and Dan were in my
basement. They asked me to play anything and listened quietly. I played for around half an hour without
stopping. I have never been more nervous. At first I trembled uncontrollably. I played a bunch of scales and
modes in different keys. I showed that I knew all my chords. I played some Journey, Chicago, Santana, and
some of my own rock/blues stuff. They asked if I could play and sing. I played and sang “Cold As Ice” by
Foreigner, which I knew pretty well, so I calmed down a bit. My guitar playing was OK but my singing was
pretty sour. Apparently they saw some things that worked for them, because they didn’t just walk out. They
stayed and chatted for awhile. They explained their plans. They placed the biggest emphasis on the fact that
they were serious, and were looking for someone responsible who was 100 percent dedicated to music. They
said they would call me, and left. The next day, Gerry called. He said they would hire me on a probationary
basis. I remember leaping over my kitchen table ten or fifteen times in a row. To me, this meant guaranteed
superstardom, with no chance of failure. ‘Wait till mom and dad see me on TV,’ I thought.” That thinking was
typical of Al. He’s an extreme optimist. At the time Al had no idea how high, and how low, playing music would
take him.
“I remember walking into Chris Guerra’s garage in Gary for my first practice. It was amazing. Chris and his
dad had built a complete recording studio in their garage. The walls and ceiling were soundproofed. There
were microphones, wires, and speakers all over the place. The control room had two Teac reel-to-reel tape
recorders, sound boards, effects, monitor speakers, and a spaghetti bowl of wires. Chris had a Hammond B-
3 organ, Fender Rhodes keyboard, and Minimoog synthesizer. That was state of the art equipment at the
time. As we set up, we listened to Spyro Gyra on the best sound system I’d heard in my life. It was all very
impressive, and intimidating. But I felt I had been given a rare opportunity, and I wasn’t going to miss it.
"From day one I was ready for practice. In fact, I believe I was the most highly-focused member in the band. I
think Gerry and the rest of the guys saw that very clearly from the very first practice. Fortunately, my
probation was never mentioned again. From the start, I was in for good.”
Next they held drummer auditions and hired Pete Galvan, an old rival. Now the lineup was complete, and it
was time for the real work to begin. For a full year the band practiced without playing out, and practices were
locked out to the public, a dramatic change from the old practice-is-party-time approach. Every song was
meticulously chosen, discussed, analyzed, and rehearsed to the smallest detail, over and over. “It was like
going to music school,” recalls Al. “Twenty five years later I remember individual conversations about keys,
modes, transposition, extensions, inversions, harmony, melody, voicing, meter, dynamics, and a hundred
other of the basic elements. It took time. I felt impatient to play out. But I believed in the experience and
success of Gerry, Chris, and Dan.”
Chris was named official band leader, but Gerry and Dan had a heavy influence, each in his own way. Gerry
dominated practice sessions, from choosing what to do next to offering feedback to everyone on how to play.
Dan, normally pretty quiet, was very influential during meetings. In fact, the more important the decision, the
more involved Dan would get. He didn’t bother with the small stuff. But when he cared about an issue, he was
the toughest negotiator in the band. For awhile Pete sat back and let the guys run things. He had competed
with Free Verse a long time and respected their musicianship and dedication. But slowly he started forming
his own opinion of how to change the band’s strategy.
FROM SOPHISTICATED POP TO DANCE MUSIC
One day, Pete stopped the guys in the middle of rehearsing the song “On Broadway.” He called a meeting on
the spot. He said, “It’s time to get a female vocalist and a sax player, learn a few simple dance tunes, and get
some gigs. We’re ready.” Gerry, Chris, and Dan resisted the idea for a hundred reasons. They didn’t want to
be a dance band. They wanted to be the next refined rock band, like Chicago, Steely Dan, or the Doobie
Brothers. They didn’t want a front person who didn’t play an instrument, or a horn player who didn’t sing,
because that was a free ride. But Pete, who also had a great deal of stage experience, influenced them with
plain common sense. Pete’s approach was to start by being a strong dance band. This would guarantee lots
of work. Then the band could get tight on the road. Gerry and Chris were reluctantly persuaded. Dan was
more flexible. Al just sat back and said “yes sir.” He felt uncertain about the best course of action and too
inexperienced to enter a meaningful opinion.
By the end of practice, Pete had called up vocalist Miriam Cancel and saxophonist Dave Johnson. They were
both highly-seasoned. Miriam had been fronting bands from Northwest Indiana and Chicago for years. Dave
had a degree in music performance from DePaul University, the same school members of the Chicago band
had attended.
“It was like meeting music royalty when they walked in for the first time,” says Al. “They were both physically
attractive as well as hugely talented.” Miriam and Dave added a more soulful, jazzy feel to the band’s sound.
“With Miriam and Dave, the sound we cranked out at practice was so awesome, I thought, ‘what am I doing
here?’” says Al. Two weeks later, Free Verse set up to play its first gig at a small club in Highland, Indiana.
Within a month, the band had obtained an agent. Within two months of Pete’s catharsis, the band had
started a ten-year streak playing five nights per week, 52-weeks per year. That is 2,600 gigs!
KINGS OF THE ROAD
In 1981, Free Verse signed a contract with the Al Schultz talent agency out of Madison, Wisconsin. Schultz
had the Midwest nightclub circuit locked, and Free Verse was an ideal band for Schultz. The band had a
deep, highly-danceable song list in a wide variety of styles. Above all, they developed a fantastic stage
presence. Pete proved to be a master of improvisational humor, and the guys all became comfortable joining
the fun onstage. A typical Free Verse gig involved a packed dance floor from the first song to the last, with
the crowd driven to tears of laughter from the never-ending antics onstage. “Pete changed the Free Verse
image on stage forever,” says Al. “The original Free Verse was way, way too self-consciously ‘cool’ to be
showy. Pete taught us to keep things light on stage.”
Just as it had done locally, Free Verse quickly dominated the Midwest nightclub circuit. The next big step
would be getting a record contract. But, ironically, the band's success in clubs prevented it from ever
obtaining a recording contract. Schultz kept the band booked a year ahead. If a band wanted a break,
Schultz would threaten to cut you off for good. In the meantime, after a year of hard practice and no fun, now
the guys were getting a taste of the Bohemian life. The routine was appealing. Ride into a new town and
scope it out. Set up equipment at a new club. Make a crop of new friends for a few weeks. Learn a song or
two a week. Collect a paycheck. Move on to the next town. That was the life on the road. Over time, the guys
talked less and less about originals, until it was almost never brought up.
But two members of the band continued to be extremely interested in writing originals. One of them did so
openly. The other did so secretly.
Gerry Magallan was (and still is) a true all-around music talent. He played trumpet, guitar, and keyboards,
and was a solid lead and background vocalist. But above all, he was a songwriter. When Free Verse won the
1974 FM LOOP Battle of the Bands, it was largely due to its performance of Gerry’s original, “Stay With Me
Tonight.” Stay With Me Tonight is a lighthearted pop tune with a nice brass arrangement that would remind
listeners of a song like “I Love You More Today Than Yesterday” by Spiral Staircase. Al says, “I've now
worked with dozens of musicians. Gerry is the most intelligent of all of us - I think he's a genius. One of the
highlights of my whole musical experience has been the enjoyment of hearing Gerry Magallan tunes created
before, during, and after I worked with him in Free Verse. Many a night after a gig, the whole band stayed up
late listening to Gerry play and discuss originals in all stages of development, from concepts to fully written
and arranged pieces. Gerry understood the importance songwriting plays in the success, or not, of a band.
Stay With Me Tonight is a great, catchy tune. So much so that I’m considering recording it with Samantha.
However, Gerry has written many songs I feel are more worthy of attention than Stay With Me Tonight.
Through the years, Gerry has had various close-encounters with huge songwriting success, but it seems his
tunes are never combined with the right artist at the right time. Gerry continues to dabble in writing and
promoting his material, and I still wouldn’t be surprised if some day we hear a Gerry Magallan song on the
airwaves. Gerry had worked extremely hard to get Free Verse back together. He had been driven every inch
of the way by the dream of recording a successful album. Seeing the band settle for being a nightclub band,
no matter how successful, was an immense disappointment for Gerry."
The “secret songwriter” in the band was none other than Al. Al started writing songs as soon as he started
learning guitar. The whole time he was in the band, he wrote songs. But he was too shy to show them to the
guys. “Because my songs weren’t very good,” says Al. “I wrote one pathetic, sad love song after another.
When I remember them now I cringe. One day I got up the courage to let the guys hear some recordings I
had made at home. They laughed at me. Even Dan, the most polite guy in the band couldn’t hold a straight
face. I was embarrassed. I gave up writing for a long time after that.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a great voice. With the band not doing originals and me not being a great writer
or singer, I saw that my only chance of making it on a bigger scale would be based on my guitar playing. My
hope was that some great band would see or hear about me and I’d be discovered. Kind of like Mario Moreno
had discovered me. So I just floated along with Free Verse for a long time, enjoying the party atmosphere of
nightclubs and hoping to be discovered. The bottom line is that I stopped working hard on originals for a long
time, and of course I shouldn’t have.”
Over time, Chris, Pete, Dan, and Al became increasingly close, enjoying the carefree road life and becoming
more courageous on stage with each passing night. Gerry didn’t go for the stage antics much, but he
continued to work hard with the guys on the band’s sound. Meanwhile, Miriam and Dave grew increasingly
apart from the guys. The split was apparent on stage. Miriam and Dave provided outstanding musical
performances, but did not participate in the band’s repartee with crowds. The time came when the guys
believed they could succeed better without Miriam and Dave. Says Al: “Miriam and Dave were probably the
most-talented musicians in the band. And there were never arguments or tension. But two things led to their
exit. First, they became very close to each other, which is fine. But it also separated them almost completely
from the rest of us. Second, they were really overqualified to play nightclubs. Without them we felt the
atmosphere would improve onstage, and they felt they should move on to bigger, better things.” Miriam and
Dave had made a great contribution to the band. They enabled the band to hit the road with success. And
they gave the band a permanently more soulful, jazzy sound.
The guys quickly found out that club owners didn’t agree with the idea of changing the lineup. They preferred
bands fronted by an attractive female like Miriam, which gave the band a more appealing, professional image
than an all-male band. The band’s contracts with clubs called for the full lineup including a female singer and
sax player. Owners conceded letting go of the sax player, but they threatened to cancel contracts unless the
guys could produce a female singer. Over the next several months, the band hired three different female
vocalists, none of which worked out. The guys finally gave up on female vocalists and convinced one club
owner after another to amend the contract and hire them without a female vocalist. The band had become so
popular the clubs took the risk. And it worked. Says Al, “Now we started doing very goofy stuff like wearing
giant cowboy hats to play ‘Elvira’ by the Oak Ridge Boys, or wearing pots on our heads and walking like
robots while playing ‘Whip It’ by Devo.” Crowds around the Midwest had never seen anything like it on a live
stage, and club owners loved the band’s ability to pack the house night after night.
Meanwhile Gerry became increasingly disenchanted with the band. He had never agreed with the change in
direction from an originals band to a dance band. The band’s increasing over-the-top antics on stage took it
another step away from Gerry’s vision of a sophisticated pop band. Not surprisingly, he left shortly after
Miriam and Dave. Gerry went on to receive a masters degree in music and teach at a university. Gerry had
left a permanent mark on the band. Gerry’s discipline and devotion to live music performance as serious art
gave Free Verse a highly-polished sound. Gerry was the driver behind the band’s creative song
introductions, transitions, and endings, medleys, accurate chording, dynamics, harmonies, precise starts and
stops, and effortless execution. Gerry trained the guys to play faithfully in each style. When Free Verse
played rock, they blew the walls down. They played country so authentically fans would dance, hoot and
holler. When they played disco, dancers got super-funky. And the band’s Santana covers were so real they
brought audiences to the point of climax. This super-tightness and versatility created a sensational reaction
from fans in even the smallest clubs. Many a Free Verse set ended with the crowd piling up to the stage to
congratulate the band, asking for photos and autographs, and assuring the band that they would soon be
rock stars. This was Gerry’s invisible, permanent contribution to Free Verse.
The remaining lineup of Chris, Dan, Pete, and Al ended up staying on the road a total of almost two years,
playing dozens of clubs spread across North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, Michigan, Iowa, Illinois,
Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee. “It was remarkable how we were welcomed everywhere we went
with open arms,” says Al. “It was an important time of personal growth for me. I had been a shy, nervous kid.
The time on the road, away from the old neighborhood, enabled me to find myself. On and off stage, I gained
confidence that has stuck with me ever since.”
Inevitably, all the guys matured, and their experience of being on stage changed. “We changed from being
manic onstage to being cool and confident,” says Al. “Then gradually the cool confidence turned to boredom.
People change. It’s inevitable.”
They each had reasons to get off the road. Chris wanted to go back to college. Dan wanted to spend more
time with his family. Pete had a cozy union electrician job waiting at the mills. Al thought he might have a
better chance of being discovered by an originals band in the Chicago area than on the road. Schultz had
warned the band: “Chicago is a tough circuit. The bands in Chicago are a higher caliber. You couldn’t
survive there.” So the guys assumed they wouldn’t be able to work full-time in the Chicago area, and the
decision was made to end the band. They drove home from their last road gig in a somber mood. They
unpacked the truck for the last time. They hugged, wished each other luck, and said goodbye.
PETE’S BIG MOMENT
The moment after the guys said goodbye, Pete pulled a surprise. He said he had talked to an agent who said
he could keep Free Verse playing full-time in the Chicago area. The agent said they were willing to give the
band a tryout. Pete asked the guys if they felt it was worth a try. The guys agreed to give the new agent a try.
Intentional or not, Pete’s surprise gave the guys new hope.
That was the moment Pete became the unspoken but very definite leader of the band’s business. And it was
a good thing. With Chris going to college, he didn’t have time and energy to run the band’s business. Al
lacked experience or business instincts. Dan’s role was senior counselor, not business leader. “Pete skillfully
handled all of our business from then on,” says Al.
SWEET HOME CHICAGO
The new agent was Dick Smith. Just as Shultz dominated outside Chicago, Smith dominated the city and its
suburbs. An agent who worked for Dick named Wally (whose last name escapes me) got Free Verse a tryout
gig at Sundancers, a new club in Oak Brook, Illinois. “We walked in and were stunned. Sundancers was the
sharpest, most modern club we had ever stepped into. The DJ ran a huge sound system and controlled lights
in the floor, walls, and ceiling, making the whole room one giant blinking jukebox. The pay was better than we
expected. If this was the kind of gig the Smith agency could consistently get us, we were definitely interested.”
A crowd started filing in and the guys played a very subdued first set. “What was very different about this
crowd was that they were obviously wealthy,” says Al. “These were not the small town friends we made on the
road. Everyone in this audience was well dressed and looked like they worked out all week to look good on
weekends at the club. At first the audience sat and stared at us. I thought perhaps the Chicagoland crowds
were as tough as Shultz had warned, and we were dead.”
In the middle of the second set, Wally walked into the club. Pete motioned toward Wally and whispered,
"That's him." Survival instinct kicked in, and Free Verse responded. As they had done so many times before,
Pete gave a cue, and in the middle of another song, they switched to the intro of “Dancing in the Sheets” by
Shalamar. In ten seconds the dance floor was standing room only. Without stopping, the guys magically
mixed like a DJ into "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson, then Bob Seeger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll,” and next
Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” Al did the Chuck Berry crow-hop, then Al and Chris went nuts trading
solos, taking turns sitting in each other’s laps as they played. Dan pumped the bass like a locomotive and
sang his heart out. Pete snapped the drums hard and fired shotgun shells of jokes at the crowd as he
played. Now no one in the house was standing still. People danced in aisles and along the walls. The DJ,
waiters, and bartenders were all getting down. A half dozen dancers were on the stage, singing the chorus
into the mics. For the last song in the set, they pulled out all stops, playing an old Santana hit that had
torched many a club on the road, “Black Magic Woman.” Everyone in the club just stood in a trance, as if it
were a real Santana concert. Al stood in the middle of the dance floor, closed his eyes, and cringed with
every single note, which he had practiced to album perfection. As the song went into a long percussion solo,
the crowd went jungle-wild, as if they were back at Woodstock. At the climactic ending, Al ripped monster rock
chords out of his guitar with jaws clenched. The crowd exploded. Pete stood up and announced, “WE ARE
FREE VERSE. BACK FROM A WORLD TOUR OF BUMPKINTOWN MICHIGAN.” Now the crowd roared with
laughter, and met the guys as they walked off stage with hugs and handshakes. “That might have been the
best set we ever played,” says Al. “And we picked the perfect moment for it.”
The club owner absolutely loved the band, and so did Wally. Thus began an eight-year partnership between
the Smith agency and Free Verse. The guys proved Al Schultz dead wrong. Free Verse was not merely
tough enough for the Chicago scene. As it had done in Northwest Indiana and on the road, it was dominant. It
quickly gained a following of rock fans (usually males) and fans who loved to dance (usually females), who
followed them from club to club around the Chicago area. Free Verse never had slow nights. Fans lined up
on sidewalks five days a week to see the band with the awesome music and endless pranks onstage. One
night it could be a leg contest. The next night it could be open-mic night, with guests coming on stage to sing
with the band. The next night it could be “stump the band” night, when a guest could win a drink by naming a
song the band couldn’t play. Fans came back many times because no two shows were alike. Club owners
loved the band, and the guys were again kept booked many months ahead.
Says Al, “This was the time when it felt most like real success. We were playing a half-dozen very nice clubs
spread around the city and suburbs, two weeks at a time. So we’d go back to each club three, four times a
year. We made great friends with club managers and employees. Our fans became our close friends. Our
families got to come see us play. My four (extremely beautiful, if I may say) sisters can each dance up a
storm, so when they came it was a real treat. My mom loved the band, but she’s a sweetheart, so that was
not a surprise. The pleasant surprise was that my dad absolutely loved the band. Seeing my dad’s smile in
the audience was a highlight in my whole life, not to mention in the band. We reached the point where we ran
into friends everywhere we went in Chicagoland. In the end, the best part of playing in bands was sharing the
fun with our families and with all the wonderful friends we made around the Midwest and the great city of
Chicago.”
Now the band’s situation had dramatically changed. They were off the road. They were highly-seasoned
onstage. They were booked far ahead at high-quality clubs, earning a better living and enjoying a better
lifestyle. Chris was back in college, and the others had re-settled into the home life. For two years after
getting off the road, the band enjoyed security and stability.
Pete particularly enjoyed the club circuit. It fit his lighthearted, rambunctious personality. “All the guys in the
band were popular with audiences,” says Al. “But Pete gave the audience the most enjoyment, and received
the most attention and enjoyment in return. Pete was the unchallenged king of the Chicagoland nightclub
scene for years.”
CHANGES
After a couple of solid years in the Chicago area, changes started to occur in the guys' lives and in the band
In contrast to Pete, over time, Chris, Dan, and Al felt increasingly that playing in clubs, in fact just being in
clubs, was an unproductive trap that might be hard to escape.
“One day an old high school buddy happened to see me perform at a club,” says Al. “He had become a
doctor. He was complimentary about the band, and how I had blossomed into a seasoned performer. But
when he left, I was devastated. We were in our mid-twenties. He was saving lives, and I was wiggling around
on stage in leather pants. For the first time, I got onstage, looked around, and felt completely ridiculous. It’s
the last time I wore leather pants. That night was, as they say, the longest of my life. I didn’t sleep. I just
paced my apartment all night long. For the first time I accepted that I would probably never be discovered,
which was painful after all those years of hard practice and thousands of shows. The next day I went to
register at Purdue University's Hammond extension, just south of Chicago. This time when I told my father
about my career change, believe it or not he was disappointed. By now he had come to respect all the hard
work I put into my music and had seen how far Free Verse had come. He believed I was going to make it
onto MTV any day. He supported going back to college of course, and reminded me that after I finished
college I might want to give it one more try.
Thus started a two-year period where I took full-time courses while performing five or six nights per week. It
was exhausting but at that age I had the energy, and compared with most working college students, I felt
fortunate to have work I enjoyed so much."
The first of the "final four" to make a move was Chris. As he neared completion of his bachelors degree,
Chris re-discovered his relationship with Christ. In 1984 he left the band and devoted his life to the
International Church of Christ. Now he travels around the world leading the Church’s music program. Chris
was a strong band leader, and an extremely talented vocalist, keyboardist, and showman. His heartfelt
renditions of ballads by Elvis, the Beatles, Elton John, Billy Joel, Hall & Oats, to name a few, added elegance
to the band, and his highly-coordinated two-hand keyboard style gave the tiny four-piece band a huge
sound. His absence was felt both by the band and its fans.
To fill Chris’s shoes, the band tried a couple of keyboard players who didn’t work out. Then they struck gold.
They say that to every dark cloud there’s a sliver lining. The dark cloud was Chris’s exit. The silver lining was
Chris’s eventual replacement, keyboardist Gabe Medina. Gabe brought new life to the band, and a special
gift to Al.
Like Chris, Gabe was a classically-trained musician, a fine vocalist, and a natural showman. He enjoyed the
crowd, and they enjoyed him just as much onstage as off. Gabe had a sense of humor every bit as
spontaneous as Pete’s. When Pete and Gabe were on a roll, watching Free Verse was like seeing Billy
Crystal and Robin Williams host a Van Halen + Prince + Michael Jackson concert! Gabe loved
surprises and props. One typical night, without warning the band, Gabe handed the crowd a bunch of squirt
guns and started a water war that went down in Free Verse history. Gabe gave the old Free Verse crowd
something new and different to enjoy, and attracted new fans as well.
From Al’s perspective, Gabe was much more than just a great replacement for Chris. From Gabe’s first day
in the band, it was obvious Al and Gabe had a great deal in common. Their family experience and upbringing
were similar. They were both playing nightclubs to pay for college, and were both pursuing business
degrees. They shared tastes in music, reading, and fine food when they could get it. They both loved jazz,
Sinatra, and Tom Waits (an exceptionally creative musician as well as successful actor), and were religious
students of Steely Dan. They both loved philosophy. Al took a bunch of philosophy courses and Gabe
received a degree in philosophy. Their lives became a routine of riding together to gigs listening to great
music, having a fantastic time on stage, and enjoying the audience on break. During finals week on break,
right in the middle of a club, they would sit with a beer in one hand and a textbook in the other. “To this day,
twenty years later, Gabe and I talk on a daily basis,” says Al. “I have four sisters and one brother – Gabe.
Gabe’s friendship has been a special gift in my life.”
In 1985, Dan made the next move. He left to marry his beautiful girlfriend, Cindy Moniac, and pursue the
family life. Dan was the last original member to leave. He had played with Free Verse on and off for fifteen
years. From its founding, Dan’s contributions to the band were many. His personality matched his voice and
his instrument. Dan was the solid, reliable musical bottom, had a workhorse voice, and had an eternal-calm
that brought stability to Free Verse through all the highs and lows. “Dan was the oldest member, though he
looked the youngest, ha!” laughs Al. “He was always a bit more mature than the rest of us. We still keep very
close tabs on each other.”
Then Gabe left the band in 1986, having stayed two years. “Gabe came and went relatively quickly because,
even though he and I were great friends, to him Free Verse was a gig for earning decent college money, not
a band to which he felt any great loyalty,” says Al. “Gabe was more a freelance player than the rest of us,
and our friendship has never faded.”
Gabe and Dan were replaced by a string of talented players. Two notable replacements were Chat Gomez
on keys and Nester Gomez (no relation to Chat) on bass.
In 1987, it was finally Al's turn to move on. His five years had stretched into seven years, and he was nearing
completion of his bachelor's degree. "Free Verse played five or six nights per week. Being a senior in
college I wanted to get my first professional day job and perform two or three nights per week. After Gabe
and Dan left, the loyalty factor was not as strong, although Pete and I were, and still are, extremely close. But
like Gabe, our relationship is just based on ourselves, not our music. As for the success of the band, I saw
myself as the musical leader and Pete as the business leader of the band. But Pete is a fine musician with
great crowd-pleasing instinct. I knew Free Verse would be in great hands with Pete running it after I left." Al
worked for the next four years in two other successful top-40 bands, the “Big Apple Band,” and the old Free
Verse rival, “Together.” Al stopped playing in bands upon entering graduate school in 1991. Al received a
masters degree in 1993, and went on to pursue a business career.
Pete kept Free Verse playing clubs full-time with new lineups until 1992, when he shut the band down. One
last-generation band member proposed to keep the Free Verse name going, but Pete said “No way.” Thus,
the Free Verse name was protected from use by anyone who did not come from Northwest Indiana and did
not understand the band’s legacy. Pete went on to pursue marriage and parenthood, and is a successful
restaurateur. Pete’s legacy as a musician is his knack for building a songlist, a steady, highly danceable
drumming style, and knock-you-on-your-behind humor. Pete now devotes his life to Christ.
THE “ORIGINAL” FREE VERSE
In 1994, Al decided that he would make writing and recording originals his life’s hobby. “Free Verse had huge
achievements as a live band, but there was always the sense of incompleteness because the band did not
sign a recording contract and have a hit on radio,” says Al. “So I began recording originals under the Free
Verse name, which no one else was using.” In 1996, Al and Gabe worked together on one original song,
“Reunion.” You can hear Gabe singing high backgrounds, and keyboard bass on it. Other than on Reunion,
Al worked alone on originals.
Al's career led him to Southern California in 1997, a huge change in the family's lives. Energized by
California's music tradition, Al worked harder than ever on his originals. With the development of the
internet, Al’s goal became to distribute his original CDs on the web under his own label, BAM! Over the
years, on quiet weekend nights, Al would go in his garage and poke around, trying to finally write better
tunes. “I guess I’m a super-slow learner,” says Al. “I think each song I’ve written is a little better than the one
before.” Al published an MP3.com web site in 2000 and sold only a few dozen CDs. Al says, “MP3.com was
fun. I didn’t care how many CDs I sold. I just wanted family and friends to be able to check out my music
online, and they enjoyed it. MP3.com shut down, I think it was in 2002. I kept planning to build a new site, but
was busy being a happy husband and daddy. As Samantha showed increasing singing ability, I decided to
feature her voice on my originals and create a new, fully-independent music web site. I finally got around to it,
and I’m glad I did. You're on it!”
MUSIC FOR THE WORLD
While living in California, Al had a unique, beautiful experience. Most weekends after the kids were asleep, Al
would put on old jeans and a sweatshirt, and play guitar for tips at the foot of Newport Pier in Newport
Beach. "Imagine the sound of ocean waves rolling in and tourists from all over the world holding hands and
singing 'Hey Jude' by the Beatles while I played guitar. It was amazing."
Also during this time, Al launched this web site and has enjoyed gaining exposure to listeners all over the
world, including many America fans.
There's a link from America Fans Home Page to the From London to LA song, and to the America covers on
freeverseband.com. The web site has been a thrill to build and maintain for Al.
"Our web site will be at the heart of our global music community from now on," says Al.
THE PRESENT
Al moved the family back from California to the Chicago area in 2005, and he's more excited than ever about
Free Verse. He says, "I've continued to write and record increasingly better material, and Samantha's voice
gets better every day. We added our best song ever in my opinion, 'Crazy Thing,' in March 2007. For the
first time, I think we've recorded a song that could make the U.S. Billboard charts. I'm also excited about the
possibility of the CD selling well overseas. I know our music is not mainstream U.S. pop. But I think it could
have great acceptance in places like Asia and Europe. And one of these days' I'm going to record a good
Santana-style song to interest Latin American fans.
THE FUTURE
What of the future? It seems to be in Samantha’s hands. Or should we say her voice?
Al says, “Samantha is one of the most naturally talented musicians I‘ve met. I‘m so blessed she‘s my
daughter! Our love of music makes our relationship that much more special. I don‘t know if it‘s possible to
express the joy I feel working with her. She’s studying piano and guitar. She's thinking about studying music
in college. Who knows? Over time, I hope she'll take increasing leadership of the Free Verse project. Looking
even further ahead, I hope the Free Verse project will be kept alive endlessly by our descendants. Why not?”
With the sale of their first CD on March 21, 2005, Free Verse is on its way to filling its early promise and
completing the last step in the plan put together long ago by Gerry, Chris, and Dan.
PS - THE FREE VERSE FAMILY
For every band there are people in the background that provide support without which nothing could ever
have happened. Here are a few persons that stick out in Al Mora's mind as he looks back at over thirty years
of making music.
The Guerra Family
When Al joined Free Verse, he saw that the whole Guerra family was a Free Verse support system. Chris's
father John Guerra helped Chris convert the family garage into a recording studio including carpets, heating
and air conditioning, sound booth, soundproofing, security system, and recording equipment. Mrs. Guerra
was the band's number one cheerleader and washed many a water glass after band practices. Chris's sisters
designed a band logo and gave each band member a Free Verse jacket. (Al has his Free Verse jacket
hanging in his closet.) They also ordered boxes of Free Verse matches which the band placed on tables at
gigs. (Al still has a plastic bag full of matches.) Mr. Guerra financed band expenses including a truck and
public address system when the band went on the road. All of the Guerras traveled around the Midwest when
they could to see their brother Chris, whom they had no doubt was bound to be a big rock star.
Sylvia Mora and Rick Escobedo
In the early years of Free Verse Sylvia and her then-husband Rick offered their home to the band as a place
to visit at any hour of day or night. Sylvia cooked many a great meal at 3:00am after Rick had driven the
band around and helped set up and break down equipment.
Barbara Mora
When Barbi and Al first met, Al told her first that he was an accountant, then casually mentioned that he also
played in a band. "I didn't want the bad reputation musicians enjoy to scare her away on our first meeting!"
says Al. When Barbi saw Al play for the first time, she realized that music was much more than a sideline for
Al. Says Al: "Without Barbi's support all these years I could not possibly have continued to play and built the
web site to what it is today. Wifey, you're the absolute best!"
The Fans
Free has played over 4,000 shows. There are countless fans who would go see the band literally hundreds
of times. Many traveled thousands of miles following the band around the Midwest. And on the internet we're
receiving support now from fans all over the world! Al says, "To every sing one of you, you are deep in my
heart. My music is for you!"
Free Verse was formed in Northwest Indiana in 1972 with great promise. Initially it was a Chicago / Santana
tribute band, before the expression “tribute band” became popular. The eight-piece band featured a brass
section, a percussion section, an explosive drummer, and the best sound equipment available at the time.
With this combination, even wedding gigs had a stadium-rock feel. The band had tons of natural talent and
practiced hard. Its tight, powerful performances of cover and original tunes quickly generated a large local
following.
Fans followed the band every weekend to talent shows, dances, concerts in public parks, neighborhood
festivals, and most notably, battles of the bands. These battles were extremely popular across the U.S. at the
time, and especially-so in Northwest Indiana, where there were dozens of bona-fide bands trying to “make it.”
Other promising area bands were Gypsy, Pretzel, Shades of Time, Odyssey and Together (now the
unofficial/official band of the Chicago Bulls). Each band had its particular strengths and loyal following.
Competition between band members and their fans was fierce. Free Verse was the undefeated king of these
battles in Northwest Indiana.
And the members were treated as kings.
Al remembers: “I was a freshman when some of the guys were seniors at East Chicago Washington High
School. The guys in Free Verse were the coolest guys in the school without question. When someone from
Free Verse walked by, people literally stopped to stare. Crowded hallways opened up as band members
walked through. Girls swooned. Boys stood in line to give “fives” and “soul handshakes” to band members,
who walked with both hands out to receive all the greetings. They lived a real rock star fantasy. Just knowing
someone in the band made you cool.”
The original lineup was: Stanley Serna (vocals), Chris Guerra (vocals, keys), Dan Rodriguez (vocals, bass),
Mario Moreno (guitar), Gerry Magallan (trumpet), Rick Coy (sax), "Peaches" (drums), and Cesar Salinas
(percussion and flute). Each band member was a legend known by every high school kid in Northwest
Indiana.
Then the band broke across the Indiana/Illinois border. In 1973, Free Verse competed against 600 bands in
the FM LOOP Chicagoland Battle of the Bands. They won second prize, and record companies started
showing interest by visiting shows and rehearsals. The band competed again in the 1974 LOOP Battle, and
took first prize running away. One of the judge’s scorecards had written in bold across the page, “MONSTER
RHYTHM SECTION.” As winner, Free Verse recorded four songs in one of Chicago’s top recording studios
and was featured on a one-hour FM LOOP radio special. The band started playing Chicago’s hottest
nightclubs, packing them to overflowing with the old Northwest Indiana following and new fans from Chicago.
Now the band was red-hot. Executives from several record labels, including Columbia Records, took a very
serious look at the band. The labels loved the band's sound, but there was one problem. The average
member was only sixteen years old! If only the band could stick together another year or two, a recording
contract seemed inevitable. Unfortunately it didn’t. As members finished high school, they left for the military,
college, or jobs. The band was finished, at least for awhile.
Says Al, “My parents were strict. I'm not complaining - they were wonderful. But they didn’t allow me to go to
concerts. So I never saw Free Verse perform before they broke up. I was devastated when they broke up. I
mean in real mourning! Looking back, the strangest part of it is that I didn’t start playing guitar until the
summer between sophomore and junior year, about when they broke up. I was a nerdy kid who got
good grades. I couldn’t possibly have imagined that I would end up in the band.”
THE PRACTICING MADMAN
In 1974, Al got his first guitar, bought some guitar books, and started practicing every spare moment of day
and night. Al finished high school and studied engineering for two years, playing guitar a steadily increasing
number of hours per day. How did he do it? “I’ve never slept much,” says Al. “I woke up early every day to
practice. I took my guitar everywhere I went. I practiced while eating. I practiced while going toilet and taking a
bath. No kidding. I spent years during which I held no casual conversation with anyone unless I was poking at
my guitar. I fell asleep practicing, and got up every night in the middle of the night to practice. And I
improved.”
In 1980, Al took the leap. He left engineering to pursue a music career. The first thing he did was tell his
father. Of course, Al’s father was devastated. “The day I told my dad I was leaving engineering to pursue a
music career is the most angry I’ve ever seen him in my life,” recalls Al. “He and my mom didn't get to go to
college, though they were both gifted students. Dad dreamed I would be an architect from the day I was born.
It took years for our relationship to recover. Now my dad is my biggest fan – ha! Mom, bless her sweetness,
was more accepting. I realized that leaving school was an immense decision. My plan was to try music for five
years. If I didn’t achieve superstardom, I would return to college.”
Al got a job in the steel mills of East Chicago and worked hard at forming his own band. But the going was
not easy. “It’s hard to find truly-serious musicians. And that’s what I was looking for. Professionalism.” The
farthest Al got was a four-piece basement band called The Salamanders. They learned five songs completely
and the music sounded great – a real achievement. But not one of them was a strong lead singer. “Like a
billion other basement bands, after a month of playing great music and poor lead singing, it became obvious
we would never get a gig. We just kind of fizzled out.”
But Al was undaunted, and continued to practice intensely. He absolutely believed music was his destiny.
FREE VERSE REFORMED
In 1980, Gerry Magallan, Chris Guerra, and Dan Rodriguez decided they would re-form Free Verse. Gerry
had studied music for three years at Indiana University. Chris had played piano in a jazz combo in the
military. Dan had played in another successful road band. The three had matured, and felt prepared to raise
Free Verse to that next level.
They looked back at mistakes the original Free Verse had made, and came up with a three-step plan. First,
replace certain original members with more-serious players. Second, play in nightclubs on the road for six
months. Going on the road would isolate the band to keep them focused on writing originals and getting tight
onstage. And third, get a recording contract.
Meanwhile, Al had now been practicing guitar day and night for seven years. He started sounding more like a
veteran than a guy who had never played a paid gig. He was still searching for his opportunity. Instead of Al
finding it, it found Al.
One sunny afternoon Al was doing his absolute favorite thing. He was sitting, leaning on a tree in Washington
Park in East Chicago, eyes closed, playing his electric guitar, which he had rigged to play out of a cassette
player speaker. He was playing blues scales from the bottom to the top of the neck and then back down
again. Over and over, in a manic, hypnotic trance. Suddenly a voice came from nowhere: “Yo! Who do you
play for?” Al kept playing, deep in concentration. Eyes still closed, he managed to squeak out an answer,
“Nobody.”
“Nobody!” said the voice. “Nobody? Man, you jivin'!” Al kept playing. Finally, the stranger said, “I’m Mario
Moreno!” Al opened his eyes, stopped playing, and stood up. “Mario from Free Verse!” said Al.
“Hey man,” said Mario as he pressed a finger in Al’s chest, “I know somebody that needs you.”
“I thought he meant some beginner band needed a guitar player,” says Al. Then Mario explained. Free Verse
was going to regroup. But Mario had quit playing pop music. He had dedicated himself to classical guitar. In
fact, Mario Moreno can be seen playing classical guitar in Northwest Indiana restaurants to this day. Mario
said Free Verse had a big problem. They couldn’t find a guitarist to fill Mario’s shoes. Then Mario said, “I’ve
been sitting right here watching you for half an hour man. You practice like a crazy man! I know all the guitar
players around. None of them can handle Free Verse. Free Verse is serious. Free Verse practices seven
days a week. And if you don’t come to practice ready, they’ll kick you right out. And they’re going on the
road. You’ll have to quit your day job. You think you can handle that?”
Al says “I was instantly both ecstatic and terrified. I told Mario, ‘Man music is everything to me. I left college to
start my own band, record, and make it. I broke my parents’ heart by quitting college. I’m serious as a heart
attack. But I don’t know if I’m ready for Free Verse.’”
Mario said, “I can’t believe I never met you. Where have you been hiding? It’s time for you to break out, man.
I’m gonna talk to Gerry, Chris, and Dan about you. You’ve just been discovered. You’re gonna be a rock
star. Do you realize that?”
Al says, “That night I couldn’t sleep, so I just played guitar. The next day Gerry, Chris, and Dan were in my
basement. They asked me to play anything and listened quietly. I played for around half an hour without
stopping. I have never been more nervous. At first I trembled uncontrollably. I played a bunch of scales and
modes in different keys. I showed that I knew all my chords. I played some Journey, Chicago, Santana, and
some of my own rock/blues stuff. They asked if I could play and sing. I played and sang “Cold As Ice” by
Foreigner, which I knew pretty well, so I calmed down a bit. My guitar playing was OK but my singing was
pretty sour. Apparently they saw some things that worked for them, because they didn’t just walk out. They
stayed and chatted for awhile. They explained their plans. They placed the biggest emphasis on the fact that
they were serious, and were looking for someone responsible who was 100 percent dedicated to music. They
said they would call me, and left. The next day, Gerry called. He said they would hire me on a probationary
basis. I remember leaping over my kitchen table ten or fifteen times in a row. To me, this meant guaranteed
superstardom, with no chance of failure. ‘Wait till mom and dad see me on TV,’ I thought.” That thinking was
typical of Al. He’s an extreme optimist. At the time Al had no idea how high, and how low, playing music would
take him.
“I remember walking into Chris Guerra’s garage in Gary for my first practice. It was amazing. Chris and his
dad had built a complete recording studio in their garage. The walls and ceiling were soundproofed. There
were microphones, wires, and speakers all over the place. The control room had two Teac reel-to-reel tape
recorders, sound boards, effects, monitor speakers, and a spaghetti bowl of wires. Chris had a Hammond B-
3 organ, Fender Rhodes keyboard, and Minimoog synthesizer. That was state of the art equipment at the
time. As we set up, we listened to Spyro Gyra on the best sound system I’d heard in my life. It was all very
impressive, and intimidating. But I felt I had been given a rare opportunity, and I wasn’t going to miss it.
"From day one I was ready for practice. In fact, I believe I was the most highly-focused member in the band. I
think Gerry and the rest of the guys saw that very clearly from the very first practice. Fortunately, my
probation was never mentioned again. From the start, I was in for good.”
Next they held drummer auditions and hired Pete Galvan, an old rival. Now the lineup was complete, and it
was time for the real work to begin. For a full year the band practiced without playing out, and practices were
locked out to the public, a dramatic change from the old practice-is-party-time approach. Every song was
meticulously chosen, discussed, analyzed, and rehearsed to the smallest detail, over and over. “It was like
going to music school,” recalls Al. “Twenty five years later I remember individual conversations about keys,
modes, transposition, extensions, inversions, harmony, melody, voicing, meter, dynamics, and a hundred
other of the basic elements. It took time. I felt impatient to play out. But I believed in the experience and
success of Gerry, Chris, and Dan.”
Chris was named official band leader, but Gerry and Dan had a heavy influence, each in his own way. Gerry
dominated practice sessions, from choosing what to do next to offering feedback to everyone on how to play.
Dan, normally pretty quiet, was very influential during meetings. In fact, the more important the decision, the
more involved Dan would get. He didn’t bother with the small stuff. But when he cared about an issue, he was
the toughest negotiator in the band. For awhile Pete sat back and let the guys run things. He had competed
with Free Verse a long time and respected their musicianship and dedication. But slowly he started forming
his own opinion of how to change the band’s strategy.
FROM SOPHISTICATED POP TO DANCE MUSIC
One day, Pete stopped the guys in the middle of rehearsing the song “On Broadway.” He called a meeting on
the spot. He said, “It’s time to get a female vocalist and a sax player, learn a few simple dance tunes, and get
some gigs. We’re ready.” Gerry, Chris, and Dan resisted the idea for a hundred reasons. They didn’t want to
be a dance band. They wanted to be the next refined rock band, like Chicago, Steely Dan, or the Doobie
Brothers. They didn’t want a front person who didn’t play an instrument, or a horn player who didn’t sing,
because that was a free ride. But Pete, who also had a great deal of stage experience, influenced them with
plain common sense. Pete’s approach was to start by being a strong dance band. This would guarantee lots
of work. Then the band could get tight on the road. Gerry and Chris were reluctantly persuaded. Dan was
more flexible. Al just sat back and said “yes sir.” He felt uncertain about the best course of action and too
inexperienced to enter a meaningful opinion.
By the end of practice, Pete had called up vocalist Miriam Cancel and saxophonist Dave Johnson. They were
both highly-seasoned. Miriam had been fronting bands from Northwest Indiana and Chicago for years. Dave
had a degree in music performance from DePaul University, the same school members of the Chicago band
had attended.
“It was like meeting music royalty when they walked in for the first time,” says Al. “They were both physically
attractive as well as hugely talented.” Miriam and Dave added a more soulful, jazzy feel to the band’s sound.
“With Miriam and Dave, the sound we cranked out at practice was so awesome, I thought, ‘what am I doing
here?’” says Al. Two weeks later, Free Verse set up to play its first gig at a small club in Highland, Indiana.
Within a month, the band had obtained an agent. Within two months of Pete’s catharsis, the band had
started a ten-year streak playing five nights per week, 52-weeks per year. That is 2,600 gigs!
KINGS OF THE ROAD
In 1981, Free Verse signed a contract with the Al Schultz talent agency out of Madison, Wisconsin. Schultz
had the Midwest nightclub circuit locked, and Free Verse was an ideal band for Schultz. The band had a
deep, highly-danceable song list in a wide variety of styles. Above all, they developed a fantastic stage
presence. Pete proved to be a master of improvisational humor, and the guys all became comfortable joining
the fun onstage. A typical Free Verse gig involved a packed dance floor from the first song to the last, with
the crowd driven to tears of laughter from the never-ending antics onstage. “Pete changed the Free Verse
image on stage forever,” says Al. “The original Free Verse was way, way too self-consciously ‘cool’ to be
showy. Pete taught us to keep things light on stage.”
Just as it had done locally, Free Verse quickly dominated the Midwest nightclub circuit. The next big step
would be getting a record contract. But, ironically, the band's success in clubs prevented it from ever
obtaining a recording contract. Schultz kept the band booked a year ahead. If a band wanted a break,
Schultz would threaten to cut you off for good. In the meantime, after a year of hard practice and no fun, now
the guys were getting a taste of the Bohemian life. The routine was appealing. Ride into a new town and
scope it out. Set up equipment at a new club. Make a crop of new friends for a few weeks. Learn a song or
two a week. Collect a paycheck. Move on to the next town. That was the life on the road. Over time, the guys
talked less and less about originals, until it was almost never brought up.
But two members of the band continued to be extremely interested in writing originals. One of them did so
openly. The other did so secretly.
Gerry Magallan was (and still is) a true all-around music talent. He played trumpet, guitar, and keyboards,
and was a solid lead and background vocalist. But above all, he was a songwriter. When Free Verse won the
1974 FM LOOP Battle of the Bands, it was largely due to its performance of Gerry’s original, “Stay With Me
Tonight.” Stay With Me Tonight is a lighthearted pop tune with a nice brass arrangement that would remind
listeners of a song like “I Love You More Today Than Yesterday” by Spiral Staircase. Al says, “I've now
worked with dozens of musicians. Gerry is the most intelligent of all of us - I think he's a genius. One of the
highlights of my whole musical experience has been the enjoyment of hearing Gerry Magallan tunes created
before, during, and after I worked with him in Free Verse. Many a night after a gig, the whole band stayed up
late listening to Gerry play and discuss originals in all stages of development, from concepts to fully written
and arranged pieces. Gerry understood the importance songwriting plays in the success, or not, of a band.
Stay With Me Tonight is a great, catchy tune. So much so that I’m considering recording it with Samantha.
However, Gerry has written many songs I feel are more worthy of attention than Stay With Me Tonight.
Through the years, Gerry has had various close-encounters with huge songwriting success, but it seems his
tunes are never combined with the right artist at the right time. Gerry continues to dabble in writing and
promoting his material, and I still wouldn’t be surprised if some day we hear a Gerry Magallan song on the
airwaves. Gerry had worked extremely hard to get Free Verse back together. He had been driven every inch
of the way by the dream of recording a successful album. Seeing the band settle for being a nightclub band,
no matter how successful, was an immense disappointment for Gerry."
The “secret songwriter” in the band was none other than Al. Al started writing songs as soon as he started
learning guitar. The whole time he was in the band, he wrote songs. But he was too shy to show them to the
guys. “Because my songs weren’t very good,” says Al. “I wrote one pathetic, sad love song after another.
When I remember them now I cringe. One day I got up the courage to let the guys hear some recordings I
had made at home. They laughed at me. Even Dan, the most polite guy in the band couldn’t hold a straight
face. I was embarrassed. I gave up writing for a long time after that.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a great voice. With the band not doing originals and me not being a great writer
or singer, I saw that my only chance of making it on a bigger scale would be based on my guitar playing. My
hope was that some great band would see or hear about me and I’d be discovered. Kind of like Mario Moreno
had discovered me. So I just floated along with Free Verse for a long time, enjoying the party atmosphere of
nightclubs and hoping to be discovered. The bottom line is that I stopped working hard on originals for a long
time, and of course I shouldn’t have.”
Over time, Chris, Pete, Dan, and Al became increasingly close, enjoying the carefree road life and becoming
more courageous on stage with each passing night. Gerry didn’t go for the stage antics much, but he
continued to work hard with the guys on the band’s sound. Meanwhile, Miriam and Dave grew increasingly
apart from the guys. The split was apparent on stage. Miriam and Dave provided outstanding musical
performances, but did not participate in the band’s repartee with crowds. The time came when the guys
believed they could succeed better without Miriam and Dave. Says Al: “Miriam and Dave were probably the
most-talented musicians in the band. And there were never arguments or tension. But two things led to their
exit. First, they became very close to each other, which is fine. But it also separated them almost completely
from the rest of us. Second, they were really overqualified to play nightclubs. Without them we felt the
atmosphere would improve onstage, and they felt they should move on to bigger, better things.” Miriam and
Dave had made a great contribution to the band. They enabled the band to hit the road with success. And
they gave the band a permanently more soulful, jazzy sound.
The guys quickly found out that club owners didn’t agree with the idea of changing the lineup. They preferred
bands fronted by an attractive female like Miriam, which gave the band a more appealing, professional image
than an all-male band. The band’s contracts with clubs called for the full lineup including a female singer and
sax player. Owners conceded letting go of the sax player, but they threatened to cancel contracts unless the
guys could produce a female singer. Over the next several months, the band hired three different female
vocalists, none of which worked out. The guys finally gave up on female vocalists and convinced one club
owner after another to amend the contract and hire them without a female vocalist. The band had become so
popular the clubs took the risk. And it worked. Says Al, “Now we started doing very goofy stuff like wearing
giant cowboy hats to play ‘Elvira’ by the Oak Ridge Boys, or wearing pots on our heads and walking like
robots while playing ‘Whip It’ by Devo.” Crowds around the Midwest had never seen anything like it on a live
stage, and club owners loved the band’s ability to pack the house night after night.
Meanwhile Gerry became increasingly disenchanted with the band. He had never agreed with the change in
direction from an originals band to a dance band. The band’s increasing over-the-top antics on stage took it
another step away from Gerry’s vision of a sophisticated pop band. Not surprisingly, he left shortly after
Miriam and Dave. Gerry went on to receive a masters degree in music and teach at a university. Gerry had
left a permanent mark on the band. Gerry’s discipline and devotion to live music performance as serious art
gave Free Verse a highly-polished sound. Gerry was the driver behind the band’s creative song
introductions, transitions, and endings, medleys, accurate chording, dynamics, harmonies, precise starts and
stops, and effortless execution. Gerry trained the guys to play faithfully in each style. When Free Verse
played rock, they blew the walls down. They played country so authentically fans would dance, hoot and
holler. When they played disco, dancers got super-funky. And the band’s Santana covers were so real they
brought audiences to the point of climax. This super-tightness and versatility created a sensational reaction
from fans in even the smallest clubs. Many a Free Verse set ended with the crowd piling up to the stage to
congratulate the band, asking for photos and autographs, and assuring the band that they would soon be
rock stars. This was Gerry’s invisible, permanent contribution to Free Verse.
The remaining lineup of Chris, Dan, Pete, and Al ended up staying on the road a total of almost two years,
playing dozens of clubs spread across North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, Michigan, Iowa, Illinois,
Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee. “It was remarkable how we were welcomed everywhere we went
with open arms,” says Al. “It was an important time of personal growth for me. I had been a shy, nervous kid.
The time on the road, away from the old neighborhood, enabled me to find myself. On and off stage, I gained
confidence that has stuck with me ever since.”
Inevitably, all the guys matured, and their experience of being on stage changed. “We changed from being
manic onstage to being cool and confident,” says Al. “Then gradually the cool confidence turned to boredom.
People change. It’s inevitable.”
They each had reasons to get off the road. Chris wanted to go back to college. Dan wanted to spend more
time with his family. Pete had a cozy union electrician job waiting at the mills. Al thought he might have a
better chance of being discovered by an originals band in the Chicago area than on the road. Schultz had
warned the band: “Chicago is a tough circuit. The bands in Chicago are a higher caliber. You couldn’t
survive there.” So the guys assumed they wouldn’t be able to work full-time in the Chicago area, and the
decision was made to end the band. They drove home from their last road gig in a somber mood. They
unpacked the truck for the last time. They hugged, wished each other luck, and said goodbye.
PETE’S BIG MOMENT
The moment after the guys said goodbye, Pete pulled a surprise. He said he had talked to an agent who said
he could keep Free Verse playing full-time in the Chicago area. The agent said they were willing to give the
band a tryout. Pete asked the guys if they felt it was worth a try. The guys agreed to give the new agent a try.
Intentional or not, Pete’s surprise gave the guys new hope.
That was the moment Pete became the unspoken but very definite leader of the band’s business. And it was
a good thing. With Chris going to college, he didn’t have time and energy to run the band’s business. Al
lacked experience or business instincts. Dan’s role was senior counselor, not business leader. “Pete skillfully
handled all of our business from then on,” says Al.
SWEET HOME CHICAGO
The new agent was Dick Smith. Just as Shultz dominated outside Chicago, Smith dominated the city and its
suburbs. An agent who worked for Dick named Wally (whose last name escapes me) got Free Verse a tryout
gig at Sundancers, a new club in Oak Brook, Illinois. “We walked in and were stunned. Sundancers was the
sharpest, most modern club we had ever stepped into. The DJ ran a huge sound system and controlled lights
in the floor, walls, and ceiling, making the whole room one giant blinking jukebox. The pay was better than we
expected. If this was the kind of gig the Smith agency could consistently get us, we were definitely interested.”
A crowd started filing in and the guys played a very subdued first set. “What was very different about this
crowd was that they were obviously wealthy,” says Al. “These were not the small town friends we made on the
road. Everyone in this audience was well dressed and looked like they worked out all week to look good on
weekends at the club. At first the audience sat and stared at us. I thought perhaps the Chicagoland crowds
were as tough as Shultz had warned, and we were dead.”
In the middle of the second set, Wally walked into the club. Pete motioned toward Wally and whispered,
"That's him." Survival instinct kicked in, and Free Verse responded. As they had done so many times before,
Pete gave a cue, and in the middle of another song, they switched to the intro of “Dancing in the Sheets” by
Shalamar. In ten seconds the dance floor was standing room only. Without stopping, the guys magically
mixed like a DJ into "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson, then Bob Seeger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll,” and next
Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” Al did the Chuck Berry crow-hop, then Al and Chris went nuts trading
solos, taking turns sitting in each other’s laps as they played. Dan pumped the bass like a locomotive and
sang his heart out. Pete snapped the drums hard and fired shotgun shells of jokes at the crowd as he
played. Now no one in the house was standing still. People danced in aisles and along the walls. The DJ,
waiters, and bartenders were all getting down. A half dozen dancers were on the stage, singing the chorus
into the mics. For the last song in the set, they pulled out all stops, playing an old Santana hit that had
torched many a club on the road, “Black Magic Woman.” Everyone in the club just stood in a trance, as if it
were a real Santana concert. Al stood in the middle of the dance floor, closed his eyes, and cringed with
every single note, which he had practiced to album perfection. As the song went into a long percussion solo,
the crowd went jungle-wild, as if they were back at Woodstock. At the climactic ending, Al ripped monster rock
chords out of his guitar with jaws clenched. The crowd exploded. Pete stood up and announced, “WE ARE
FREE VERSE. BACK FROM A WORLD TOUR OF BUMPKINTOWN MICHIGAN.” Now the crowd roared with
laughter, and met the guys as they walked off stage with hugs and handshakes. “That might have been the
best set we ever played,” says Al. “And we picked the perfect moment for it.”
The club owner absolutely loved the band, and so did Wally. Thus began an eight-year partnership between
the Smith agency and Free Verse. The guys proved Al Schultz dead wrong. Free Verse was not merely
tough enough for the Chicago scene. As it had done in Northwest Indiana and on the road, it was dominant. It
quickly gained a following of rock fans (usually males) and fans who loved to dance (usually females), who
followed them from club to club around the Chicago area. Free Verse never had slow nights. Fans lined up
on sidewalks five days a week to see the band with the awesome music and endless pranks onstage. One
night it could be a leg contest. The next night it could be open-mic night, with guests coming on stage to sing
with the band. The next night it could be “stump the band” night, when a guest could win a drink by naming a
song the band couldn’t play. Fans came back many times because no two shows were alike. Club owners
loved the band, and the guys were again kept booked many months ahead.
Says Al, “This was the time when it felt most like real success. We were playing a half-dozen very nice clubs
spread around the city and suburbs, two weeks at a time. So we’d go back to each club three, four times a
year. We made great friends with club managers and employees. Our fans became our close friends. Our
families got to come see us play. My four (extremely beautiful, if I may say) sisters can each dance up a
storm, so when they came it was a real treat. My mom loved the band, but she’s a sweetheart, so that was
not a surprise. The pleasant surprise was that my dad absolutely loved the band. Seeing my dad’s smile in
the audience was a highlight in my whole life, not to mention in the band. We reached the point where we ran
into friends everywhere we went in Chicagoland. In the end, the best part of playing in bands was sharing the
fun with our families and with all the wonderful friends we made around the Midwest and the great city of
Chicago.”
Now the band’s situation had dramatically changed. They were off the road. They were highly-seasoned
onstage. They were booked far ahead at high-quality clubs, earning a better living and enjoying a better
lifestyle. Chris was back in college, and the others had re-settled into the home life. For two years after
getting off the road, the band enjoyed security and stability.
Pete particularly enjoyed the club circuit. It fit his lighthearted, rambunctious personality. “All the guys in the
band were popular with audiences,” says Al. “But Pete gave the audience the most enjoyment, and received
the most attention and enjoyment in return. Pete was the unchallenged king of the Chicagoland nightclub
scene for years.”
CHANGES
After a couple of solid years in the Chicago area, changes started to occur in the guys' lives and in the band
In contrast to Pete, over time, Chris, Dan, and Al felt increasingly that playing in clubs, in fact just being in
clubs, was an unproductive trap that might be hard to escape.
“One day an old high school buddy happened to see me perform at a club,” says Al. “He had become a
doctor. He was complimentary about the band, and how I had blossomed into a seasoned performer. But
when he left, I was devastated. We were in our mid-twenties. He was saving lives, and I was wiggling around
on stage in leather pants. For the first time, I got onstage, looked around, and felt completely ridiculous. It’s
the last time I wore leather pants. That night was, as they say, the longest of my life. I didn’t sleep. I just
paced my apartment all night long. For the first time I accepted that I would probably never be discovered,
which was painful after all those years of hard practice and thousands of shows. The next day I went to
register at Purdue University's Hammond extension, just south of Chicago. This time when I told my father
about my career change, believe it or not he was disappointed. By now he had come to respect all the hard
work I put into my music and had seen how far Free Verse had come. He believed I was going to make it
onto MTV any day. He supported going back to college of course, and reminded me that after I finished
college I might want to give it one more try.
Thus started a two-year period where I took full-time courses while performing five or six nights per week. It
was exhausting but at that age I had the energy, and compared with most working college students, I felt
fortunate to have work I enjoyed so much."
The first of the "final four" to make a move was Chris. As he neared completion of his bachelors degree,
Chris re-discovered his relationship with Christ. In 1984 he left the band and devoted his life to the
International Church of Christ. Now he travels around the world leading the Church’s music program. Chris
was a strong band leader, and an extremely talented vocalist, keyboardist, and showman. His heartfelt
renditions of ballads by Elvis, the Beatles, Elton John, Billy Joel, Hall & Oats, to name a few, added elegance
to the band, and his highly-coordinated two-hand keyboard style gave the tiny four-piece band a huge
sound. His absence was felt both by the band and its fans.
To fill Chris’s shoes, the band tried a couple of keyboard players who didn’t work out. Then they struck gold.
They say that to every dark cloud there’s a sliver lining. The dark cloud was Chris’s exit. The silver lining was
Chris’s eventual replacement, keyboardist Gabe Medina. Gabe brought new life to the band, and a special
gift to Al.
Like Chris, Gabe was a classically-trained musician, a fine vocalist, and a natural showman. He enjoyed the
crowd, and they enjoyed him just as much onstage as off. Gabe had a sense of humor every bit as
spontaneous as Pete’s. When Pete and Gabe were on a roll, watching Free Verse was like seeing Billy
Crystal and Robin Williams host a Van Halen + Prince + Michael Jackson concert! Gabe loved
surprises and props. One typical night, without warning the band, Gabe handed the crowd a bunch of squirt
guns and started a water war that went down in Free Verse history. Gabe gave the old Free Verse crowd
something new and different to enjoy, and attracted new fans as well.
From Al’s perspective, Gabe was much more than just a great replacement for Chris. From Gabe’s first day
in the band, it was obvious Al and Gabe had a great deal in common. Their family experience and upbringing
were similar. They were both playing nightclubs to pay for college, and were both pursuing business
degrees. They shared tastes in music, reading, and fine food when they could get it. They both loved jazz,
Sinatra, and Tom Waits (an exceptionally creative musician as well as successful actor), and were religious
students of Steely Dan. They both loved philosophy. Al took a bunch of philosophy courses and Gabe
received a degree in philosophy. Their lives became a routine of riding together to gigs listening to great
music, having a fantastic time on stage, and enjoying the audience on break. During finals week on break,
right in the middle of a club, they would sit with a beer in one hand and a textbook in the other. “To this day,
twenty years later, Gabe and I talk on a daily basis,” says Al. “I have four sisters and one brother – Gabe.
Gabe’s friendship has been a special gift in my life.”
In 1985, Dan made the next move. He left to marry his beautiful girlfriend, Cindy Moniac, and pursue the
family life. Dan was the last original member to leave. He had played with Free Verse on and off for fifteen
years. From its founding, Dan’s contributions to the band were many. His personality matched his voice and
his instrument. Dan was the solid, reliable musical bottom, had a workhorse voice, and had an eternal-calm
that brought stability to Free Verse through all the highs and lows. “Dan was the oldest member, though he
looked the youngest, ha!” laughs Al. “He was always a bit more mature than the rest of us. We still keep very
close tabs on each other.”
Then Gabe left the band in 1986, having stayed two years. “Gabe came and went relatively quickly because,
even though he and I were great friends, to him Free Verse was a gig for earning decent college money, not
a band to which he felt any great loyalty,” says Al. “Gabe was more a freelance player than the rest of us,
and our friendship has never faded.”
Gabe and Dan were replaced by a string of talented players. Two notable replacements were Chat Gomez
on keys and Nester Gomez (no relation to Chat) on bass.
In 1987, it was finally Al's turn to move on. His five years had stretched into seven years, and he was nearing
completion of his bachelor's degree. "Free Verse played five or six nights per week. Being a senior in
college I wanted to get my first professional day job and perform two or three nights per week. After Gabe
and Dan left, the loyalty factor was not as strong, although Pete and I were, and still are, extremely close. But
like Gabe, our relationship is just based on ourselves, not our music. As for the success of the band, I saw
myself as the musical leader and Pete as the business leader of the band. But Pete is a fine musician with
great crowd-pleasing instinct. I knew Free Verse would be in great hands with Pete running it after I left." Al
worked for the next four years in two other successful top-40 bands, the “Big Apple Band,” and the old Free
Verse rival, “Together.” Al stopped playing in bands upon entering graduate school in 1991. Al received a
masters degree in 1993, and went on to pursue a business career.
Pete kept Free Verse playing clubs full-time with new lineups until 1992, when he shut the band down. One
last-generation band member proposed to keep the Free Verse name going, but Pete said “No way.” Thus,
the Free Verse name was protected from use by anyone who did not come from Northwest Indiana and did
not understand the band’s legacy. Pete went on to pursue marriage and parenthood, and is a successful
restaurateur. Pete’s legacy as a musician is his knack for building a songlist, a steady, highly danceable
drumming style, and knock-you-on-your-behind humor. Pete now devotes his life to Christ.
THE “ORIGINAL” FREE VERSE
In 1994, Al decided that he would make writing and recording originals his life’s hobby. “Free Verse had huge
achievements as a live band, but there was always the sense of incompleteness because the band did not
sign a recording contract and have a hit on radio,” says Al. “So I began recording originals under the Free
Verse name, which no one else was using.” In 1996, Al and Gabe worked together on one original song,
“Reunion.” You can hear Gabe singing high backgrounds, and keyboard bass on it. Other than on Reunion,
Al worked alone on originals.
Al's career led him to Southern California in 1997, a huge change in the family's lives. Energized by
California's music tradition, Al worked harder than ever on his originals. With the development of the
internet, Al’s goal became to distribute his original CDs on the web under his own label, BAM! Over the
years, on quiet weekend nights, Al would go in his garage and poke around, trying to finally write better
tunes. “I guess I’m a super-slow learner,” says Al. “I think each song I’ve written is a little better than the one
before.” Al published an MP3.com web site in 2000 and sold only a few dozen CDs. Al says, “MP3.com was
fun. I didn’t care how many CDs I sold. I just wanted family and friends to be able to check out my music
online, and they enjoyed it. MP3.com shut down, I think it was in 2002. I kept planning to build a new site, but
was busy being a happy husband and daddy. As Samantha showed increasing singing ability, I decided to
feature her voice on my originals and create a new, fully-independent music web site. I finally got around to it,
and I’m glad I did. You're on it!”
MUSIC FOR THE WORLD
While living in California, Al had a unique, beautiful experience. Most weekends after the kids were asleep, Al
would put on old jeans and a sweatshirt, and play guitar for tips at the foot of Newport Pier in Newport
Beach. "Imagine the sound of ocean waves rolling in and tourists from all over the world holding hands and
singing 'Hey Jude' by the Beatles while I played guitar. It was amazing."
Also during this time, Al launched this web site and has enjoyed gaining exposure to listeners all over the
world, including many America fans.
There's a link from America Fans Home Page to the From London to LA song, and to the America covers on
freeverseband.com. The web site has been a thrill to build and maintain for Al.
"Our web site will be at the heart of our global music community from now on," says Al.
THE PRESENT
Al moved the family back from California to the Chicago area in 2005, and he's more excited than ever about
Free Verse. He says, "I've continued to write and record increasingly better material, and Samantha's voice
gets better every day. We added our best song ever in my opinion, 'Crazy Thing,' in March 2007. For the
first time, I think we've recorded a song that could make the U.S. Billboard charts. I'm also excited about the
possibility of the CD selling well overseas. I know our music is not mainstream U.S. pop. But I think it could
have great acceptance in places like Asia and Europe. And one of these days' I'm going to record a good
Santana-style song to interest Latin American fans.
THE FUTURE
What of the future? It seems to be in Samantha’s hands. Or should we say her voice?
Al says, “Samantha is one of the most naturally talented musicians I‘ve met. I‘m so blessed she‘s my
daughter! Our love of music makes our relationship that much more special. I don‘t know if it‘s possible to
express the joy I feel working with her. She’s studying piano and guitar. She's thinking about studying music
in college. Who knows? Over time, I hope she'll take increasing leadership of the Free Verse project. Looking
even further ahead, I hope the Free Verse project will be kept alive endlessly by our descendants. Why not?”
With the sale of their first CD on March 21, 2005, Free Verse is on its way to filling its early promise and
completing the last step in the plan put together long ago by Gerry, Chris, and Dan.
PS - THE FREE VERSE FAMILY
For every band there are people in the background that provide support without which nothing could ever
have happened. Here are a few persons that stick out in Al Mora's mind as he looks back at over thirty years
of making music.
The Guerra Family
When Al joined Free Verse, he saw that the whole Guerra family was a Free Verse support system. Chris's
father John Guerra helped Chris convert the family garage into a recording studio including carpets, heating
and air conditioning, sound booth, soundproofing, security system, and recording equipment. Mrs. Guerra
was the band's number one cheerleader and washed many a water glass after band practices. Chris's sisters
designed a band logo and gave each band member a Free Verse jacket. (Al has his Free Verse jacket
hanging in his closet.) They also ordered boxes of Free Verse matches which the band placed on tables at
gigs. (Al still has a plastic bag full of matches.) Mr. Guerra financed band expenses including a truck and
public address system when the band went on the road. All of the Guerras traveled around the Midwest when
they could to see their brother Chris, whom they had no doubt was bound to be a big rock star.
Sylvia Mora and Rick Escobedo
In the early years of Free Verse Sylvia and her then-husband Rick offered their home to the band as a place
to visit at any hour of day or night. Sylvia cooked many a great meal at 3:00am after Rick had driven the
band around and helped set up and break down equipment.
Barbara Mora
When Barbi and Al first met, Al told her first that he was an accountant, then casually mentioned that he also
played in a band. "I didn't want the bad reputation musicians enjoy to scare her away on our first meeting!"
says Al. When Barbi saw Al play for the first time, she realized that music was much more than a sideline for
Al. Says Al: "Without Barbi's support all these years I could not possibly have continued to play and built the
web site to what it is today. Wifey, you're the absolute best!"
The Fans
Free has played over 4,000 shows. There are countless fans who would go see the band literally hundreds
of times. Many traveled thousands of miles following the band around the Midwest. And on the internet we're
receiving support now from fans all over the world! Al says, "To every sing one of you, you are deep in my
heart. My music is for you!"
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